Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-three
Hearty laughter and good-natured insults echoed through the hall as Eadlyn stepped from the bedroom, drawn by the cheerful din.
The men were gathered around the tables awaiting breakfast. Even Galen, who had seemed so stiff and wary only yesterday, stood among them, listening to Kian exaggerate a story with dramatic gestures while the others jeered and laughed.
Eadlyn paused for a moment to watch, smiling to herself. The slow melting of mistrust over the past day and night had taken time and effort, but the results spoke for themselves. The alliance wasn’t just holding; it was growing roots.
A chorus of good mornings greeted her as she joined them, standing next to Aevar.
His fingers grazed the back of her hand.
She found his smile warm and relaxed. His gaze settled on the long, simple braid over her shoulder.
He wouldn’t get to watch Ranvi fix her hair this morning.
But he didn’t seem to mind as he reached up and took the end of her braid between his fingers, running his thumb over the woven strands.
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she looked away to hide it only to find Galen watching them. His expression was unreadable, though less severe than the day before. Maybe grudging acceptance was the best she could hope for. At least for now.
Just then, Trygg clambered onto the table and brandished his wooden sword at Galen like a tiny warlord. “You look like a troll!”
Laughter erupted, and Galen eyed them suspiciously before focusing on Eadlyn.
“What did he call me?”
She coughed into her hand to hide a grin. “He said you look like a troll.”
Galen considered Trygg for a long beat and turned to Erik. “Well, you can tell him he looks like a baby rat.”
Erik’s laugh boomed out, and he relayed the insult with great delight.
Trygg’s eyes rounded, his mouth falling open. “I do not!”
Erik smirked, tousling his son’s hair. “You kind of do. Now off the table.”
Trygg hopped down in a huff, muttering about trolls and rats and promising vengeance.
He was still giving Galen dirty looks when they sat for breakfast, much to everyone’s amusement.
The men dominated the conversation, and Eadlyn was happy just to listen.
If Galen grew to trust and see Aevar and his family the way she did, he would take that understanding back to Essix, and that would only strengthen the alliance.
Then, inevitably, the conversation shifted to combat. Sword styles, sparring mishaps, the time Aevar’s cousin had knocked himself out by tripping over a chicken.
Eventually, Galen leaned across the table and pinned Aevar with a steady look. “You know, we never established whether you were worthy of Eadlyn.”
Aevar sent him a lazy smile. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.”
“Very well. Challenge accepted. Swords and shields?”
Galen nodded.
Eadlyn set her cup down and shook her head. At least this time, she didn’t have to worry they’d actually try to maim each other. Hopefully.
Braan slapped the table. “Ten pieces of silver on the Essian.”
Aevar gaped at him as if wounded. “Betting against your own brother?”
“He’s bigger than you.”
“And older and slower.” Aevar smirked at Galen.
“Keep talking, Nord,” Galen responded with a scowl as the others chuckled.
Kian leaned toward Braan. “If Galen wins, I’ll eat my belt.”
“I hope it’s well-seasoned.” Braan turned to Erik. “What about you? Where are you putting your money?”
Erik sighed as if the entire exchange pained him deeply, but Eadlyn knew him well by now. He was just as invested as everyone else. “I suppose I’ll be the supportive older brother and bet on Aevar.” He pointed a stern finger at him. “Don’t lose my money.”
“I won’t,” Aevar replied, casting Galen a dismissive glance.
“I’m in,” Kian said. “My silver’s on Aevar.”
“This is going to be fun.” Braan grinned like a man already counting his winnings.
Eadlyn wasn’t sure what to make of it. She’d seen both Aevar and Galen spar before. Both were fierce, competent warriors.
The moment breakfast ended, the men filed outside to prepare for the match. Eadlyn lingered behind with the women as they cleaned up the children and turned to her sister-in-law.
“What is it with men trying to beat each other senseless to prove something?”
Ranvi laughed. “You’ll get used to it. They’re all just overgrown boys.”
Once the children were wrangled and wiped down, they headed out to the training field.
The morning sun filtered through the drifting clouds, casting a soft light over the packed earth.
Huskarls and Essian guards had already gathered in a wide circle, exchanging coins and grins.
More wagers. Hopefully, no bruised egos followed.
As the women drew near, Aevar stepped away from the crowd. He already carried his shield and a wooden sword and met Eadlyn’s eyes, searching her face.
“Who will you be cheering for?”
She glanced at the ring, then back at him. “I’ve never cheered against Galen before.”
He nodded with a look of resignation, dropping his gaze, and something in his posture seemed to droop. Before he turned away, she reached out, letting her fingers rest on the leather rim of his shield.
“But you’re my husband,” she said softly. “I want you to win.”
A smile broke across his face, wide and boyish. He stood taller in that instant, pride straightening his spine like armor. That her words and support held such power over him thrilled her.
They rejoined the others, and Aevar and Galen stepped into the ring.
Cheers rang from both sides. Eadlyn stood beside Ranvi, her pulse quickening as the men circled each other.
It didn’t seem right to pray for one to win over the other, so she prayed neither would get hurt. At least they were using wooden swords.
The match began at a measured pace. Aevar shifted his weight from foot to foot, watching Galen’s stance with a practiced eye.
Galen moved as he always had, efficient and calculating.
No unnecessary movement, no wasted energy.
They traded light strikes at first. Taps meant more to test and provoke than to land.
After a minute or two, Kian called out, “You two going to fight or just flirt with your swords a while? Remind me to bring a chair next time.”
Laughter rippled through the spectators.
Galen aimed low. Aevar knocked it aside and went high. Galen stepped back. Their shields clapped together with a jarring thud, then separated. Neither of them smiled now.
Then, as if by silent agreement, the pace shifted.
Swords sliced through the air, meeting and hammering each other’s shields.
The crowd gasped as the tempo surged. They fought like warriors used to the chaos of actual battle, not the rules of sport.
Eadlyn’s breath caught as they locked shields, twisted, and broke apart again, the smack of wood-on-wood echoing off the houses nearby.
Aevar landed the first real blow, striking Galen’s shoulder with a solid thunk.
Galen grunted but didn’t falter. He responded with an attack aimed at Aevar’s ribs, but Aevar caught it with his shield.
The shock of it jarred his stance, and he staggered half a step before regaining control.
Eadlyn’s heart pounded, adrenaline rising even though she wasn’t the one fighting.
They circled again. Aevar lunged and shifted at the last moment to strike Galen’s side.
Galen turned with him and met the blow head-on, driving it away with a grunt of effort.
He pressed forward. Aevar parried and stepped back under the force of Galen’s attacks.
They were both sweating now, breathing hard, faces flushed with exertion and focus.
Around them, the crowd shouted and cheered, urging them on.
Galen slammed his shield forward, harder than before.
Aevar slipped in the loose dirt. Galen didn’t hesitate.
He swept Aevar’s legs from beneath him and drove him to the ground with a thud.
Even as Aevar tried to scramble up, Galen followed through, planting his shield against Aevar’s chest. His knee dropped onto Aevar’s arm to pin his sword hand, and he pressed his blade to Aevar’s throat.
Silence fell.
Eadlyn raised a hand to her throat. She had never seen Aevar bested in single combat before.
Would he be angry? Humiliated? She struggled to read his face at first. He lay still for a moment, chest rising and falling with harsh breaths.
Then he let his head fall back against the earth with a breathless laugh.
“You’re faster than you look.”
She exhaled in relief.
Galen gave a crooked smile, tucking his sword beneath his arm and offering a hand. Aevar took it without hesitation, and Galen hauled him up in one smooth pull. They stood shoulder to shoulder, sweat-streaked and breathing hard.
Aevar dusted off his tunic and rolled his shoulder. “I guess Essix does have warriors after all.”
“It does indeed. I make sure of it.”
Aevar sent a glance toward Eadlyn. “So, am I worthy of your princess?”
Galen looked at her too, and she dipped her chin.
“I suppose. For now. Just keep it that way or next time I’ll bring a real sword.”
“Fair enough.”
Down the line, Braan smacked his hand against Erik’s chest with a smug grin. “Pay up.”
Erik rolled his eyes but slapped a handful of coins into his palm.
Braan turned to Kian next. “You too. And you’ve got a belt to eat.”
Kian grumbled something about not eating his favorite belt, but Eadlyn barely heard. Aevar approached her, still catching his breath, his expression sheepish.
“I hope you still consider me worthy even in defeat.”
A fierce warmth swelled in her chest. “It was how you handled defeat that proved you’re worthy. Like I said back in Essix, battle prowess does not determine the strength of a man’s character.”
He leaned in close, tracing his eyes over her face as he spoke in a low voice. “You showed your own strength that day. I’ve never forgotten it.” His gaze dropped to her lips…
“All right,” Galen’s voice rang out. “Who’s next?”
Eadlyn jumped, peering past Aevar. Galen still stood in the ring as if he hadn’t just fought a hard bout. Then she looked back at Aevar, and his attention lingered on her a moment more before he turned to see who would take up the challenge.
Braan slapped Erik on the back. “Get in there, big brother, and show us how it’s done.”
Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Planning to bet against me too?”
“Nah. I made my money. Besides, I like your odds.”
Erik shook his head at him but stepped into the ring with eagerness in his movements. Aevar handed him the sword and shield.
This match was fast and hard-hitting like before, but this time, Erik claimed victory, and the huskarls roared their approval.
After that, the Essian guards took turns against Runar’s warriors.
Most of them lost, but they took it well enough.
Despite the struggle with communication, they exchanged plenty of jokes and laughter, as well as enough bruises to last a week.
Eadlyn stood on the edge of the crowd, watching the result of the alliance she had helped forge with a quiet joy.