Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The distant crow of a rooster woke Aevar. Dim light seeped through the oiled cloth covering the window across the room. He lay still, listening. In the hush, he picked out the sound of Eadlyn’s deep, even breathing.
He pushed aside his blankets, the chilly air prickling his bare chest and chasing away the last remnants of sleep. Though he couldn’t see much in the dimness, he didn’t want to disturb her with a lamp. Groping for yesterday’s tunic and jerkin, he slipped them on and tugged on his boots.
When he stood, he let his gaze drift to the bed.
In the faint light, he made out the gentle rise and fall of the blankets draping Eadlyn’s body.
His throat squeezed, a deep ache tightening in his ribs.
He could far too easily imagine a different woman lying there, and for one torturous moment, he let himself do just that.
Giving his head a sharp shake, he blinked away the sting in his eyes. He couldn’t dig up the past. Not now. That life and the longing that came with it had to stay buried where he had fought so long to put it. He wouldn’t survive this otherwise.
With a deep breath, he slipped from the room. The low murmur of his brothers’ voices by the hearth helped dispel the lingering ache. He crossed the hall and dropped into a seat across from them. They nodded in greeting.
“How was your night?”
Aevar narrowed his eyes at Braan’s question. His brother just stared at him, and Erik, for his part, did a terrible job of hiding his curiosity.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Aevar said dryly, “but I slept on the floor. I will not force her to be a wife. If I’m going to be married, I want it to be pleasant for both of us at the very least.”
He had seen the panic on her face last night and the way she’d fought to resign herself.
Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have ignored it.
Other men might not care they were strangers, but he did.
And if he was honest, part of him would have felt unfaithful even if only to a memory.
Judging by the way his chest still ached, that wouldn’t change any time soon.
Braan bumped Erik with his elbow. “Look at that, our little brother has wisdom.”
Heida appeared behind him. Aevar hadn’t noticed her approach, as usual. She had an uncanny way of slipping in without anyone ever seeing her coming. An ability he suspected was natural more than learned.
She leaned into Braan’s shoulder. “Something you could learn from.”
Braan glanced up at her, then leveled Aevar with a cool stare. “Yes, dear.”
Aevar smirked, but his attention returned to Heida as she slid onto the bench beside Braan.
“You’re doing right by her, Aevar,” she said, her voice lower now. “It’s not easy leaving everything you’ve ever known behind. It will take her time. She doesn’t just have to learn to trust you; she has to trust all of us.”
Eadlyn startled awake, blinking against the light that filtered through the window above her. Beyond the door, muffled voices drifted across the room. Laughter. A child’s shriek. The sounds of a family already deep into their day.
She sat up and looked to the corner of the room.
Aevar’s bed of furs lay empty. She let a slow breath seep out and sat there a moment longer, the coolness of the air biting against her skin.
Today was the first day of her new life.
Not as a guest, but as part of this household, somehow.
She had to find her place here, and she could not do that by hiding.
Shivering, she slipped out of bed and lit a lamp, the small flame flickering.
She rummaged through her packs. There wasn’t much.
Far less than she would have brought had she known she would not return to Kenwich.
Edward had promised to send more of her belongings, but that might take weeks, perhaps months. For now, she had to make do.
She pulled out a red gown; one Aevar had not yet seen her wear. Not that it mattered. Until her things arrived, she would have to cycle through the couple of gowns she had.
Once she’d laced up the dress, she brushed out her hair.
She wasn’t sure what more to do with it beyond pulling some of it back.
Ranvi and Inga wore their hair braided into beautiful, intricate styles, but that was a skill she had never learned.
This was one small moment she wished Mildred were here to help.
Tucking the rest of her clothing back into her pack, she ran her fingers over the bundle of Scriptures at the bottom.
She hesitated. There had been no time for reading on the journey.
It tugged at her now, a longing for the familiar comfort of the words.
But she didn’t know the household’s routines yet, nor the hour.
She didn’t want to keep anyone waiting on her.
Instead, she closed it away again and bowed her head for a brief prayer. She thanked God for His grace last night with Aevar and for the kindness shown to her here. When she whispered amen, she blew out the lamp and walked to the door.
Stepping into the hall, the central hearth drew her attention. A bright fire crackled there, the smoke curling up to the smoke hole in the roof. Voices rang more clearly now. She turned toward the tables and found Aevar’s family gathered, their laughter and conversation filling the space.
Aevar straddled a bench, laughing as little Trygg clung to his back.
The boy shouted something triumphant and wrapped his arms around Aevar’s neck like he was trying to wrestle him to the ground.
Aevar twisted, feigning a struggle, and a grin lit up his face, wide and unguarded.
She had never seen him like that—truly smiling, eyes bright and full of life.
A knot of uncertainty tightened low in her stomach.
Everyone was kind to her yesterday, but kindness to a stranger was easy.
Where did she fit once the novelty wore off?
She lingered near the doorway, unsure whether she should approach or wait.
Aevar looked up, catching her eye. He was hard to read, as always, except for last night, when he’d let something real slip through.
“Good morning.”
The simple words caught the others’ attention. A handful of cheerful greetings followed, and just like that, they drew her into their circle.
Inga and Ranvi bustled near the hearth alongside the other women, who were tending a large pot.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” Eadlyn said, her voice a little too formal in her own ears.
“No, we are just finishing,” Inga assured her.
The woman turned to give the children quick instructions. Trygg hopped up from where he was still half-hanging off Aevar. Then, rather than walking around, he scrambled over the tabletop, earning a scolding word from Erik.
Aevar’s brother sent an apologetic glance toward Eadlyn. “Excuse him. He can be a bit wild.”
“Like his father at that age.” Inga sent him a wry smile as she set the pot on the table.
Erik shook his head, sighing. “As you so often remind me.”
Laughter rippled as everyone settled into their seats.
Eadlyn slipped onto the bench beside Aevar, accepting a bowl of porridge and berries he passed to her.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“I did, thank you.” And she had. Once she had fallen asleep, she hadn’t stirred all night.
Before she took a bite, she hesitated. Would it offend them if she prayed before she ate?
She knew so little of the customs and beliefs here.
Regardless, she bowed her head and silently thanked God for the food and the protection He had given her.
When she finished, she lifted her spoon and blew across the steaming porridge.
The heat spread through her with the first bite, chasing away some of the morning’s chill.
Around her, the family fell into lively conversation, mostly in Nordric unless they addressed her directly. She listened, trying to catch the shape of the words, but everything still felt strange.
As soon as Aevar emptied his bowl, he shifted toward her. “After you finish, we should visit the silversmith and see if he can craft our rings before the Gathering.”
Rings. She had almost forgotten since she’d returned the borrowed one during the journey, not wanting to risk losing it.
She nodded and scooped another spoonful of porridge, eager not to keep him waiting.
By this time, most of the family had finished, and Trygg had already wriggled free of his seat, chattering at Heida.
Aevar exchanged a few words with his father, then rose and turned toward the entrance.
Eadlyn gathered her cloak before following him outside.
The sky was overcast, thick fog swallowing the peaks of the mountains in the distance.
A damp, chill breeze blew off the fjord, sweeping through the streets and setting Eadlyn’s teeth on edge.
Still, she drank in the strange, beautiful sights around her.
The rugged tree-covered slopes vanishing into the mist, the sheer cliffs along the fjord, and the sturdy timber houses braced against the cold.
So different from the stone halls and crowded, dirty streets of Kenwich.
They passed several villagers along the way. Aevar offered short greetings, receiving nods or brief words in return. Eadlyn caught curious looks darting toward her as they passed. No doubt word had already spread among Runar’s people. Aevar had brought home a foreign wife.
Near the center of the village, they stepped into a low, broad building.
The hot, acrid air inside made her blink.
The forge at the heart of the workshop glowed, its smoke leaving the space thick with burning coals and hot metal.
Along the walls, sturdy workbenches bristled with hammers, tongs, molds, and other tools Eadlyn could not name.