Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Aevar woke early, as he always did. The light through the narrow window was dimmer than yesterday, and the steady drum of rain pelted the roof. For a moment, he stayed still, listening to it, letting the soft grayness of morning wrap around him.
His thoughts turned to Eadlyn. Móthir had spoken well of her yesterday, of how she had worked without complaint, eager to help and willing to learn. Admirable traits and not what he had expected from a southern princess.
He swept his blankets aside. Best to get moving. He dressed and lit a lamp, its small flare of light chasing the gloom from the corners of the room. He had hoped the noise or brightness would rouse Eadlyn, but she only shifted once under the covers, sighed, and settled again.
Aevar glanced at her. And regretted it.
Her dark hair spilled across the pillow and over the blankets, a few fine strands resting across her face. It would be far too easy to reach out, brush that hair aside, and let his fingers trace the curve of her cheek…
No.
He clenched his jaw. This was not what he wanted.
He took a step closer, forcing himself to focus. “Eadlyn.”
She didn’t stir.
Frowning, he hesitated a moment before reaching out and resting his hand on her shoulder. Warmth seeped from her skin through the linen of her shift, soft and inviting beneath his touch. It ignited something in him he didn’t want to name.
He shook her gently. “Eadlyn.”
This time her eyes fluttered open, widening in momentary confusion. She stiffened under his touch, and he withdrew his hand at once, stepping back as if burned.
“It’s morning.”
With a yawn, she pushed the hair from her face and sat up, her expression soft and vulnerable from sleep. For one reckless moment, he let himself look—really look—at her. The way her hair now draped over her shoulders, the lamplight turning her skin to warm gold.
He tore his gaze away before the pull deepened. Having fulfilled his promise, he left the room, closing the door behind him to give her privacy. And to give himself the space he needed.
Eadlyn brushed through her hair, managing a simple braid despite how the morning chill stiffened her fingers. Outside, rain beat against the thatch. Though she had hoped for signs of spring, the morning felt no different from the last—cold, gray, and biting.
The hall was quieter today when she entered. The men sat together at the long table, voices low in conversation. Inga stood near the hearth, giving instructions to Alys, Nesta, and the cook. Ranvi and the children were absent for the moment.
Drawn to the fire, Eadlyn made her way over and held her hands toward the glowing embers.
“Good morning,” Inga said kindly.
Eadlyn echoed her and asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”
Inga shook her head. “The girls have everything well in hand.”
Before long, Ranvi entered, ushering in the children, who tumbled through the doorway like a gust of fresh wind, their bright laughter filling the hall.
Breakfast was a lively, if brief, affair.
Afterwards, the men slipped outside into the rain and mist, leaving the hall to settle into its pattern of chores and conversation.
Eadlyn busied herself where she could, but despite the heat of the fire, the chill stuck to her bones. By midmorning, she found herself once again at the hearth, teeth chattering no matter how she tried to hide it.
Ranvi appeared at her side, Alvir perched on her hip. “You’re not used to the mountain air.”
“No.” Eadlyn offered a thin smile.
Ranvi eyed her gown. “Come with me.”
Eadlyn followed her across the hall to a private chamber.
While it resembled Aevar’s, it had a softer, more feminine touch.
Woven hangings adorned the walls, and a cradle sat tucked into a corner where Ranvi now settled Alvir, handing him a pair of wooden rings to play with.
She then opened a large chest and pulled out various garments.
“Put these on instead.”
Without hesitation, Eadlyn shed her gown and pulled on the brown dress Ranvi handed her—simple, practical, and lightweight.
A second dress followed, heavier and made of deep red wool.
Then came a dark blue apron dress, fastened in place with two round, brass brooches.
She let out a soft breath, the heat returning to her limbs.
“These will help if you need them.” Ranvi draped a thick coat and a woven shawl across the chest. “We’ll make you new dresses soon. Until then, we’ll share.”
“Thank you. I truly appreciate it.” Eadlyn smoothed her hands down the sturdy fabric. “Had I known I wouldn’t return to Kenwich, I would have packed more appropriately.”
Ranvi gave her a sympathetic smile and opened a small wooden box on a shelf. From it, she withdrew a strand of silver and red jasper beads, which she fastened between the brooches perched near Eadlyn’s shoulders.
“There. Now that is more befitting a princess.”
Eadlyn brushed her fingers over the smooth stones. “They’re beautiful.”
She glanced at the twin strands Ranvi wore, and at the intricate braids adorning her head. Without quite meaning to, she asked, “Maybe you could show me how to do my hair? Though I don’t think I’ll ever manage anything as lovely as yours.”
Ranvi’s answering laugh was light. “Of course. Come, sit.”
She guided her to a chair and loosed Eadlyn’s simple braid, brushing out her hair with a bone comb.
Her fingers worked swiftly, weaving and twisting strands, explaining each step with patient clarity.
Eadlyn tried to memorize the pattern, though she anticipated many mornings of tangled fingers before she could recreate it on her own.
As Ranvi worked, curiosity welled up inside Eadlyn. “When did you learn Aerlish?”
“Shortly after I married Erik. As the wife of a future jarl and king, if the gods will it, I should know, especially since the Talts primarily use it now. Most of the jarls learn it.”
To learn another language, and so well, took far more discipline than southerners gave these people credit for. How little they knew.
“I know that if I want to communicate well, I must learn your language,” Eadlyn said. “I admit, though, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Don’t worry. We will help you.”
Aevar shook the rainwater from his cloak as he entered the longhouse for a brief respite from the downpour. Behind him, Kian hurried in, his own cloak waterlogged and leaving a trail.
“Every year,” his friend muttered, shoving his hood back, “it dumps rain right as we prepare for the Gathering.”
Aevar gave a low grunt of agreement. “Could be worse. At least it’s not snow like last year.”
The blizzard had delayed the Gathering by nearly a full week.
“I’ll give you that.”
They stepped farther inside, and Aevar was about to say more when movement near the hearth caught his eye. He blinked. Was that…?
He had to look again to be sure.
It was Eadlyn.
She stood by the fire in conversation with Móthir.
At first, he didn’t recognize her. Gone was the elegant southern gown, so at odds with the chill and wilderness here.
Instead, she wore a simple layered dress in rich tones and an apron pinned with brass brooches.
Her hair, too, had been transformed, woven into fine, intricate braids.
She looked…right. As if she belonged in this hall. As if she belonged to them.
Something shifted uncomfortably inside his chest. She caught sight of him, and their gazes met. Her smile was tentative, as if unsure whether he would welcome it. Aevar forced himself to nod, brisk and impersonal. He didn’t even realize he’d stopped walking until Kian had already reached her.
“Look at you!” His friend grinned. “Only three days here, and you already look more Nord than I do.”
Eadlyn laughed, tipping her head. She’d never smiled like that at Aevar.
He told himself to turn away, to go back to work.
But he didn’t. He stood and watched her—the ease with which she spoke to Kian, the way the firelight caught in the braid over her shoulder.
For one selfish moment, he wished she’d interact with him in such a manner, but he shook it off.
He could admire her resilience and her willingness to adapt, but letting his guard fall was not an option.
“She’s made quite a transformation, hasn’t she?”
The voice beside him made him flinch. Ranvi had joined him, her eyes sparkling as if she knew his thoughts.
“She wears it well,” Aevar said after a pause, keeping his voice low.
“She’ll need more clothes. Her gowns aren’t suited to the cold.”
Her voice held a question, unspoken but palpable. Aevar didn’t answer, and after a moment, she said, “Inga and I will make her some.”
She turned to go, but Aevar stopped her. Eadlyn was his wife and his responsibility. Whether by alliance or not, as her husband, it was his job to provide for her needs.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said at last, the words rougher than he meant for them to be.
Ranvi studied him, something unreadable in her eyes, before she moved toward the hearth.
As soon as she was gone, Kian reappeared at Aevar’s side and elbowed him, grinning like a boy who had caught him in a secret. “I hope you’ve noticed how beautiful your wife is.”
He had.
That was the problem.
He turned away. “Come with me. I need your help.”
They crossed the hall to a ladder that led to the upper balcony. Aevar climbed first, the wood slick under his wet boots. At the far end, pushed deep into a dark corner, sat the chest. He hadn’t touched it in three years. Hadn’t even looked at it. But he always knew it was there.
He cleared his throat. “Help me get it down.”
Kian didn’t ask questions. His usual easygoing manner faded into something more careful as he helped Aevar heave the heavy trunk toward the ladder. The wood groaned under the shifting weight. They wrestled it down carefully and carried it into the room Aevar shared with Eadlyn.