Chapter 7 #2
The woman was taller than Erik’s wife, with strength in the set of her shoulders and a calmness in her manner. Not a warrior, but not someone to be underestimated. Eadlyn shrank a little. Would she be accepted here? Welcomed?
Suddenly, Aevar stood at her side, closer than she’d realized.
His presence was solid, yet uncertainty weighed on his stance and in the slight tilt of his brow.
Maybe he didn’t know what to do either. His mother greeted Erik and Braan with upbeat, rapid words Eadlyn couldn’t hope to understand, but then the woman turned and spotted her.
The smile on her face shifted to one of curiosity.
A question followed in that unfamiliar tongue.
For a heartbeat, no one answered. Then Aevar’s hand rested lightly against Eadlyn’s back, the first intentional touch since they’d held hands during their wedding. She wasn’t sure if it steadied her or made it harder to breathe.
At last, Aevar spoke in Aerlish. “This is Princess Eadlyn, King Edward’s sister.” A pause. “My wife.”
The change in the women’s expressions was immediate, surprise rippling across their faces. Smiles faded, and Eadlyn fought the urge to flinch beneath their stares. If her brother had returned home unexpectedly married, she wouldn’t know what to think either.
Aevar’s mother turned to Runar with a questioning look. He rested a calming hand on her shoulder, also speaking in Aerlish.
“We made the alliance with Essix. To bind it, we agreed to a marriage between Aevar and Eadlyn.”
Eadlyn wasn’t sure what emotions flickered across the woman’s face. Distress? Resignation? Hope? They came and went too quickly to name. Eadlyn glanced at Erik’s wife, who met her husband’s gaze. He shrugged, lifting his brows.
Aevar’s mother turned back to Eadlyn, and a smile bloomed once again, softer than before. Gentler. “Princess Eadlyn, I’m very pleased to meet you. I’m Inga, Aevar’s mother.”
Her Aerlish was slower and less practiced, but Eadlyn sensed the sincerity beneath the careful words.
The younger woman stepped forward. “I’m Ranvi, Erik’s wife. These are our children. Alvir,” she bounced the toddler on her hip, “Trygg, and Katla.”
Eadlyn greeted them each, though she wasn’t sure the children understood her words. Trygg eyed her with tentative curiosity, while little Katla was more shy, hiding her face against Erik’s neck.
Before anyone said more, a third woman slipped into their midst as if she’d materialized there.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
She stood at Braan’s side, her dark hair falling to her waist and ornamented with small braids and silver beads.
Her eyes were darker than most Eadlyn had seen among the Nords.
Like a few of the other women, she wore trousers and a leather coat trimmed with fur.
Two axes hung from her belt. This woman was a warrior.
There was no doubt about that. While her Aerlish was fluent, Eadlyn detected a subtle difference in her accent.
Braan draped an arm around the woman’s shoulders, and Aevar motioned toward her.
“Eadlyn, this is Heida, Braan’s betrothed.”
She greeted her politely. Heida nodded in return, watchful and quiet.
Eadlyn did not know what the other woman thought of her, but she detected no hostility.
Only a reserved, mysterious air. The kind that no doubt drew Braan’s attention in the first place.
She hoped her instincts were right. So far, no one seemed to harbor any outright dislike toward her.
It was as good a start to her new life as she could have hoped for.
Inga took over, slipping into what Eadlyn recognized as hostess mode. “Let’s get everything inside.”
The men turned back to the horses to unload their supplies. Before Eadlyn even realized it, Aevar had her belongings in hand. Kian, Braan, and Heida led the horses away, and Eadlyn followed the others into the longhouse. Trygg scampered ahead, a bundle of excited chatter.
Giant pillars carved in winding patterns rose overhead, drawing Eadlyn’s attention upward to a vaulted roof that curved like the hull of an overturned ship.
A wide balcony lined each side of the hall, likely used for storing food and other household goods.
Wood smoke clung to the air, mingling with something savory.
When she lowered her gaze again, she studied the layout of the longhouse.
Two long tables stretched parallel to a central hearth, their surfaces scarred and marked by many years of use.
At the far end, atop a raised dais, rested a third table—a place of honor.
It wasn’t the palace in Kenwich, with its stone halls and gilded fixtures, but it held its own kind of majesty.
Colorful tapestries hung along the walls, their bold, swirling patterns softening the rough timber with comfort and artistry.
To the left, two broad platforms were built against the wall, raised a little off the ground.
Cushions dotted the surface, and a pair of standing looms sat nearby to create a space for working and for resting.
Near the hearth, a trio of women worked.
One, older and gray-haired, stirred a blackened pot that released the mouthwatering scent of meat and vegetables.
The younger two sat with spindles in hand, wool twisting between their fingers.
They wore clothing like the Nords, but their hair was cut short. Slaves, most likely, taken in raids.
Eadlyn’s attention shifted away from them as Aevar veered toward the left wall, disappearing with their things through one of several wooden doors that broke the line of the hall. Four on the left and four on the right.
Private bedchambers.
Eadlyn exhaled long and low, the tension in her limbs loosening.
Thank you, Lord.
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind, with Eadlyn at the center of many questions and curiosity.
Her first impression of Aevar’s family was one of genuine warmth.
They were louder and more rambunctious than anything she had ever known, their laughter bouncing off the smoke-darkened beams overhead, the children always running about.
The chaotic nature was a stark contrast to the hushed, brittle formality and constant dread of her childhood.
She suspected this was what a true family was like.
The kind she had only ever glimpsed from a distance.
The evening meal of venison stew cooked over the hearth had been everything she hoped for. Though not as fancy as a dinner prepared by the cook at Kenwich, after days of cold trail fare, it tasted heavenly.
Eadlyn said little as they sat around the table, and the family often slipped back into Nordric before catching themselves. She didn’t mind. Weariness clung to her, and she was content to listen and observe. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one ready for rest.
“Well, I’m going to call it a night,” Erik announced, pushing back from the table with a stretch of his arms. “After all those days on the trail, I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight.”
His declaration began a chain reaction. They exchanged goodnights, and one by one, the family disappeared into the small rooms branching off the longhouse.
Everyone except Eadlyn and Aevar.
Unsure, Eadlyn remained seated, folding her hands tightly in her lap. Her heart drummed her ribs, each beat growing louder as the inevitable approached. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, afraid of what might already be written across Aevar’s face.
Without a word, Aevar took a small soapstone oil lamp from the table and rose. His voice, when it came, was low and unreadable. “Come. I’ll show you our room.”
Eadlyn stood, her legs wobbling beneath her, and followed him.
They entered the room she had seen him carry their belongings into earlier.
The dim circle of lamplight illuminated a bed set against the far wall, piled with blankets.
Aevar moved about the room without haste, lighting a few more lamps placed in the corners.
The glow spread across the timber walls, softening the harsh lines of the room into something almost welcoming. Almost.
Then he closed the door behind them. The lump in her throat climbed higher, choking her. Now her heart hammered so violently it was a wonder he did not hear it. She locked her hands together to keep them from trembling.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncertain. Eadlyn forced herself to face him and found him watching her with a slight furrow to his brow. Her cheeks flamed. Surely he read every frantic thought as clearly as if she had spelled them out.
Then, at last, he spoke. “I will sleep on the floor.”
For a moment, she thought she must have misheard him over the wild pounding in her ears.
He continued, and his tone softened almost gently. “You may take the bed. I will not force you to share it. That is by your invitation alone.”
A shuddering breath left her lungs, and she sagged. In one way she felt she had failed in her duty as an alliance bride, but a bigger part of her was so thankful she could have cried. She’d never expected this kindness from him. Blinking to keep the tears in check, she met his gaze again.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, a simple gesture that somehow made her feel as though he truly understood the level of her gratitude, and turned to a pile of furs in the corner she hadn’t even noticed before.
He must have carried them in during the day, which meant he’d had no intention of sleeping with her tonight.
Her respect for him deepened, twining itself through the wary knots in her chest.
As he busied himself arranging a bed on the floor, Eadlyn gathered her frayed composure. Only now did she realize how badly she trembled. She pressed a hand to her stomach, drawing slow breaths until the tremors eased.
Watching him, she hesitated, then took a tentative step closer. “This is your room. You should keep your bed. I will sleep on the floor.”
He peered over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. “No. You are a lady. You will have the bed. My mother would skin me alive if she found out I let you sleep on the floor.”
Despite herself, a small, breathless laugh broke free. “Your mother seems to be a very formidable woman. I suppose she would have to be, to raise three sons.”
He smiled—not the tight, guarded smile he usually wore, but one touched with genuine fondness.
“She is.” He paused as if contemplating, something like regret taking over his expression.
“I would have prepared you a room of your own, but if this alliance is to work, we must at least give the appearance you and I are fully joined in marriage. Not all the jarls will be pleased my father agreed to the alliance. If they think there is any weakness in it, they will exploit it.”
His words caught her off guard. Not the warning, but the candid way he shared it with her.
They’d said so very little of anything important to each other since meeting, and she realized she had even less knowledge of what sort of man he was than she’d imagined.
And he’d given their situation much more deliberation than she’d given him credit for.
“Yes, of course, I understand.” She knew full well what sort of political ramifications might result in opponents having reason to believe their marriage wasn’t binding.
It could jeopardize the whole alliance. So, for her foreseeable future, she would share this room with him, the man who at this time was her husband in name only.
But she would not complain. The situation could be far, far worse, like it had been for her mother.
The agreement might be awkward, but at least he treated her with respect and far more honor than she’d expected considering the Nords’ reputations.
“You can change for bed if you want,” Aevar said, his voice lighter, almost teasing. “I won’t look.”
Heat spread into her cheeks again. Yes, this was an awkward arrangement indeed, but she had to get used to it. At least now she knew he posed no danger.
She retrieved a linen shift from her pack by the bed, hardly fresh after the journey, but better than the one clinging to her now.
Casting a glance at Aevar’s broad back, she turned her own and changed swiftly.
True to his word, he did not so much as peek her way.
Not quite comfortable with him seeing her in only a shift, she crawled into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin.
When Aevar finished, he glanced at her. Though she did not fear he’d change his mind, having him see her in his bed made her squirm. But he said nothing and doused the lamps, plunging the room into darkness. Eadlyn lay and listened as he rustled around in the corner before settling.
And there, in the hush of the strange room, with her heart finally slowing, she lifted a prayer of gratitude, of hope, and a plea for the strength to meet whatever tomorrow brought.