Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-two
The echoing call of a horn cut through the air, halting Eadlyn’s work.
She looked up from the garden, her fingers still tangled in the roots of a stubborn weed.
Around her, the other women paused as well.
Trygg, who had been galloping up and down the rows swinging his wooden sword, stopped mid-battle cry.
“That’s from the southern lookout.” Ranvi shielded her eyes and scanned the horizon.
Inga squinted toward the trees. “Might be travelers from one of our other settlements.”
Eadlyn, too, peered out over the village but found nothing amiss. “Is it cause for concern?”
Inga shook her head. “No. If it were a threat, the signal would’ve been different. And everyone would be armed by now.”
The moment settled back into weeding and chatting, but Eadlyn kept glancing toward the road with growing curiosity and maybe a little apprehension despite Inga’s reassurance.
The air carried a faint tension, like the hush before a storm.
Whatever group warranted a signal horn would surely bring some excitement.
Several minutes later, the sound of riders approaching rose above the hum of the village.
Shouts echoed. Eadlyn stood and followed Inga and Ranvi out of the garden as a group appeared.
Aevar, Runar, and a few huskarls marched at the head, guiding them toward the longhouse.
Eadlyn scanned the strangers behind them, realization striking her.
These men were not Nords; they were Essian.
Then the man in the center captured her attention.
She gasped, her heart leaping. “Galen!”
Aevar and the others parted to let her pass as she rushed to meet him.
Galen was already dismounting, and she flew into his arms the moment his boots hit the ground.
His embrace wrapped around her in an instant, strong and familiar.
Worn leather and the tang of mail enfolded her like home.
For a moment, she pressed her face to his shoulder and just breathed, fighting back an onslaught of tears.
When she stepped back, Galen’s piercing gaze swept over her from head to toe as if expecting bruises or heartbreak. No doubt he noticed the moisture still pooling in her eyes, but she met his examination with a smile.
“You’ve turned into a Nord,” he said at last. She couldn’t tell whether he was impressed or dismayed.
She laughed, brushing the garden dirt from her apron. “I guess I have.” She took in the other riders—Essian guards and a line of wagons behind them. “What are you doing here?”
“We brought some of your belongings from Kenwich, as well as the first shipment of grain.” He gestured to the wagons, and his attention shifted to Runar standing close by. “There are also merchants interested in trade now that an alliance has been established.”
“Your merchants are welcome. My men will show them where they may set up.”
Runar issued instructions to two of the huskarls. As the main caravan rolled away, his attention returned to Galen and the remaining guards. “You may stay with my huskarls during your visit. Ingvald will show you to the men’s quarters. We have thralls to tend your horses and unload the wagons.”
At the mention of his name, Ingvald stepped forward. At least he was one of the few who knew passable Aerlish.
As the men prepared to follow, Eadlyn turned to Runar. “If it’s all right, I’d like Galen to stay here at the longhouse as my guest.”
He nodded without complaint. “Of course.”
But Galen hesitated. “Oh, that’s not necessary.”
He always grew uncomfortable with anything that elevated him above his station as a guard, yet Eadlyn insisted. “I’d really like for you to be here and get to know Aevar and his family.”
He relented with a grunt. “Very well. Thank you.”
Once everything was settled, they led him inside the longhouse, where Inga welcomed him with the graceful hospitality Eadlyn had come to admire. Galen scanned the interior, his focus drawn to the carved pillars and rafters before snagging on the weapons displayed near the entrance.
“It’s impressive,” he said.
They showed him to a chamber across the hall from the family rooms. Meanwhile, Aevar and his brothers carried Eadlyn’s things inside from the wagon.
Galen watched them closely, and his eyes narrowed when they brought the chests into the room she shared with Aevar.
His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he wanted to step between them and the door.
As soon as they finished, Eadlyn made formal introductions. Leeriness lingered on both sides, but she had confidence it would fade with time. Once that was done, she turned to Galen and motioned to the doors.
“Would you like to take a walk with me?”
“Of course, my lady.” She sensed his shared eagerness for a chance to talk privately.
They turned to leave, and Eadlyn traded a glance with Aevar.
Something protective rested on his face.
His gaze shifted, growing more guarded, and Eadlyn realized Galen was giving him the same impenetrable glower he reserved for untrustworthy nobles and overeager suitors.
She stifled a laugh. These two would take work.
Outside, she led Galen along the path she and Aevar often walked in the mornings.
The familiar crunch of gravel beneath their shoes mingled with the low murmur of village life.
Now that they were alone, Galen’s shoulders relaxed, and his stride eased as the tightness in his jaw faded.
Still, his eyes flicked from face to face as they passed, a familiar habit of measuring threats.
A woman tending dyed wool paused to eye them curiously, her hands stained crimson to the wrists.
Galen offered a polite nod, though his fingers brushed instinctively toward the sword at his side.
“Any word or threats from Waelon?” Eadlyn asked, drawing his attention. So much could have happened in the weeks since she’d left her brother and Essix behind.
“Not a peep, and our spies haven’t reported any suspicious activity. Sounds like they’re too busy trying to fend off Nord raids.” He gave her a pointed look.
A quiet confirmation settled deep inside Eadlyn. “So the alliance was the right choice then.”
Galen’s expression remained keen. “Was it?”
“Yes.” No doubt or hesitation tugged at Eadlyn, only a comfortable surety in her answer.
He continued to watch her as if waiting for her to break down with the truth. She didn’t blame him. She’d spent so many years putting on a brave face when things were hard. But being able to share the truth of her life here brought deep joy and thankfulness.
“I hardly dared hope for such an outcome, but I am happy here. Truly. Happier than I ever was in Kenwich.”
A fisherman passed them, a bucket sloshing at his hip, and the pungent odor hit them both. Galen wrinkled his nose but refocused on her, clearly not convinced.
“And your husband?” He said the word as if it left a foul taste, shooting a glance over his shoulder like he expected to find Aevar skulking in the shadows behind them. “How is he treating you?”
“Very well. Honestly, I think he’s treating me better than most Essian lords I might have married would have.” She paused, trying to be delicate. “He has not forced me into the role of a wife. He’s been nothing but honorable since we wed. We are friends right now…becoming more.”
She thought of Aevar’s growing affection toward her, and the way his fingers had traced along her arm after the knattleikr game the other day. Her heart fluttered even now and drew a smile to her lips. She tried to dampen it, Galen’s gaze resting heavily on her, but failed miserably.
After a long moment of observation, his brows rose, shock edging his tone like an accusation. “You’re actually falling for him.”
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she ducked her head. “Yes.”
He appeared caught between relief and disappointment. “So I don’t need to find a way to sneak you out in the night?”
“No, you don’t.”
He grunted somewhat unhappily. “I was looking forward to that.”
She laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”
They rounded a bend in the path, the fjord becoming visible.
Galen sighed in resignation. “Well, I guess I’m glad to be disappointed and proven wrong in this instance. I did not think you would find such care.”
“A lot of notions we had about Nords back in Essix I’ve found to be wrong, at least here amongst Aevar’s family and people.
There have been those who’ve shown opposition to the alliance and to me, but the majority have treated me kindly and with respect.
Aevar’s family has been wonderful from the start.
” Happiness welled up in her chest. “And Aevar even lets me read Scripture to him every night.”
Galen’s brows shot up. “How did you convince him to do that?”
“I didn’t. He asked me to. I think it was idle curiosity at first, but now…I hope he is at least intrigued by it. It has given me much hope that God is working in his heart. So, I would like you to give him a chance and get to know him while you’re here.”
He hesitated, though Eadlyn could tell it was more for show. “We shall see.”
Now that she’d assured him of her wellbeing, Eadlyn shifted the conversation to other important matters. “How is Edward?”
If only her brother were here too. For a brief heartbeat, a dart of pain pierced her.
There would likely never be a reason for Edward to visit Nordra, so unless she traveled to Essix, she would probably never see him again.
But she pushed the thought away. Now was not the time to mourn such things. Not with Galen here.
“He misses you. That much is certain. Oswin keeps him busy with matters of state. He balks at the responsibility…but he’ll get there.”
Though not the glowing report she had hoped to receive, as long as he was well, she was thankful. After all, she’d only been gone a couple of months. He still needed time to adjust to her absence and his throne.
“Did he send any letters?”
Galen’s mouth twitched in something like a wince. “Sorry, no.”
“Oh.” Disappointment sank into her, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. Edward had always hated sitting still long enough to write anything. “Well, I’ll write a letter of encouragement for you to take back to him.”
He needed it more than she did at this point.
“I’m sure he’ll be eager to read it. He did send along silver for you. Since there was no agreed-upon bride price, he wanted to make sure you had something should you need it. It’s hidden under a false bottom in the largest chest.”
Though she did not need the silver, she appreciated the gesture. “Make sure to thank him for me.”
“And—” Galen reached into his jerkin and pulled out a thick bundle of folded and sealed parchment. “I know it’s not from Edward, but I do come bearing a letter.”
When he handed it to her, she recognized the script on the outside, and her earlier disappointment faded. “Brother Winstan!”
“He said it was a long one. Full of blessings and wisdom and all that.”
She laughed. “That sounds like him.”
She held the letter close to her chest. It might not be her brother’s words, but these would be even more encouraging.