Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-five
Eadlyn sighed as she slipped from beneath the covers, the soft sounds of morning greeting her. Under the hum of life in Fjellheim, something heavier tugged at her.
Galen was leaving today.
Though happy here—undeniably so—the ache of those she’d left behind would always linger. There was no telling how long it would be before she saw him again. Despite his promises to return, the road between kingdoms was long and often treacherous.
Aevar shifted near the door, preparing to leave the room. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s hard to think of saying goodbye. I don’t know when or if I’ll see Galen again.”
He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying her. “I think he’d still rather kill me than see me married to you, but we’ve all liked having him here.”
Eadlyn snorted softly. “I don’t think he wants to kill you. Maybe see you vanish mysteriously into the woods.”
Aevar’s laugh rumbled through the room, low and warm, and for a moment the weight in her chest eased.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice softening. “He’ll be back. A man doesn’t stay away when he cares that deeply. And he’ll always be welcome here.”
She appreciated his confidence.
Once he left, she dressed quickly, not wanting to miss a moment of Galen’s last morning in Fjellheim.
By the time she stepped into the hall, the warmth of fresh bread and milk clung to the air.
Galen stood with the other men as Trygg rattled off a tale about a giant.
Erik translated bits here and there while Galen listened solemnly as if Trygg were delivering a military briefing.
A week ago, the image seemed impossible.
But somewhere between the sparring matches, meals, and fireside stories, Galen had carved a space for himself here.
Even Trygg had decided he was interesting enough to keep around.
They lingered longer over breakfast than usual, laughter easing the sadness none of them spoke aloud. When the dishes were cleared and the moment could stretch no longer, Eadlyn caught Galen’s eye and tilted her head toward the door.
“One more walk?”
“Of course.”
They slipped outside, walking at an unhurried pace through the village. The sun had already begun its climb, casting long streaks of gold across the rooftops. Dust stirred around their feet.
As they passed one of the nearby houses, Galen asked, “You’re absolutely sure you wish to remain here?”
Eadlyn looked up at him with a smile. “Are you trying to talk me into returning to Essix?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
There was no weight behind the word, but Eadlyn answered seriously anyway. “I’m sure. This is my home. And you may not want to admit it, but I know you’ve seen how good Aevar and his family are to me.”
He exhaled. “I have.”
Just two words, but they meant everything.
They passed a woman brushing out a rug, her children chasing a goat nearby. A man hauling a basket of kindling waved at them, and Galen gave a small nod. The village had folded him into its ways without asking.
“Jarl Runar is a good leader,” he said after a moment. “His people respect him. I wasn’t sure we could trust him with this alliance…but I see now the choice was a wise one.”
Satisfaction swelled within Eadlyn.
His tone shifted, faintly rough. “As for your husband…I still reserve judgment. He’d better behave until my next visit.”
Eadlyn laughed. “I’m sure he will. He’s earned my trust.”
Galen grunted, the closest he’d come to agreement.
When they reached the fjord, their steps slowed.
The lapping of water against the shore filled the silence.
No one else was in sight. For a breathless stretch of time, it was just them.
A question stirred inside her, one that had rested in silence for years, buried deep, waiting for the right moment.
She fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, steadying herself. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
His brows lifted, calm but alert.
“I never dared bring it up in Kenwich. Too many ears. But here…I think it’s safe.
” She drew a breath, slow and deliberate.
Her heart beat hard, as though it already knew what the answer might mean.
It could change everything. The way she saw her past. The way she remembered her father.
What she thought she knew about herself.
“I know there were rumors. About you and my mother. About my birth. Is there any truth to them?”
Galen stilled. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze drifted across the fjord, far away as if haunted, maybe, by a version of the past that might have been.
“I loved your mother,” he said at last. “I believe she felt the same.” He paused. “But we never acted on it.”
Her chest constricted. She had imagined this moment more times than she could remember. Rehearsed his answers, feared them, hoped for them. But nothing prepared her for the ache of hearing it aloud.
“So the rumors about me…”
“Just rumors.” His voice carried a sigh, tinged with regret. “I know it would’ve been wrong, but part of me has always wished they weren’t.”
A lump formed in her throat. For years she had carried a desperate hope that the one man who had always stood between her and the cruelty of her father was her father. The ache of that hope swelled and ebbed all at once.
“You’ve always been the only true father I’ve ever known. Blood or no blood. It makes no difference.”
Something both gentle and fierce filled his eyes. “No. It doesn’t.” He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And you’ve always been like a daughter to me.”
Her vision blurred, but she blinked the tears back. “Thank you. For everything.”
He nodded once, and no more needed to be said. They stood together a little longer, the fjord stretching out before them, until the wind shifted and the moment faded. Then they turned back toward the longhouse, their silence filled with quiet understanding.
After instructing Edgar and the other stable thralls to prepare the Essians’ horses for departure, Aevar walked the line of stalls, his boots thudding against the packed dirt.
He stopped at Vega and Eydis’s stall. The filly whinnied when she spotted him, ears flicking, nose nudging at the wooden door.
Aevar scratched her forehead, brushing his fingers over her soft coat. She was growing fast.
He still hadn’t taken Eadlyn riding like they’d talked about. A certain place came to mind, drawing a smile to his face. Maybe it was too soon… But things were progressing between them.
Heavy footsteps drew his attention. Galen approached, clad in mail like when he arrived, his expression unreadable. He paused at the stall. His attention settled first on the horses, then shifted to Aevar, measured and unflinching.
“Eadlyn seems genuinely happy here. And she cares for you.”
It wasn’t a compliment, but it wasn’t an accusation either. Just a truth he seemed to wrestle with aloud.
Aevar leaned back against the stall door, meeting the older man’s gaze. He didn’t respond. Not yet. He could sense more coming.
Galen’s jaw tightened. “She’s endured much hurt and mistreatment in her life. I’m warning you; do not add to that hurt.”
The threat carried weight, but Aevar didn’t take offense. Instead, something flared inside him, resolute and protective. “I won’t. You have my word. She told me about her father. Were he still alive, I might’ve broken the alliance to see him answer for it.”
That earned him the faintest twitch of a grim smirk. “I may end up liking you yet.”
Aevar gave a huff. “You’ve already threatened to kill me less than I expected. That’s progress.”
Galen didn’t laugh, but the stiffness in his posture eased. He looked at Aevar again, not like he saw him as a threat, but as someone who might understand the weight of what he was being entrusted with.
“Just take care of her.” This time, his voice wasn’t hard. It was quiet. Almost a plea.
Aevar nodded firmly. “I will.”
They held each other’s gaze. No more words, just silent accord.
Galen turned to leave. He took a few steps before glancing back over his shoulder. “If you ever take her riding and she insists on racing you, don’t take the bait. You’ll lose, and she’ll never let you forget it.”
Aevar chuckled. “Duly warned.”
The stable fell still again, save for the shift of hooves and the soft creak of old wood. Vega butted her head against his arm, insistent. Aevar rubbed her ears, letting his attention linger on the empty doorway.
“I will take care of her,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone.
And he would.
The yard outside the longhouse bustled with motion as the Essians prepared to depart. Eadlyn waited as Galen moved from person to person, offering parting words. His posture was relaxed now, no longer rigid with suspicion. He even joked with Braan, who laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
And then he turned to her.
For a breath, neither of them moved. The reluctance on his face mirrored her own. But she smiled, even though her throat ached with the weight of unshed tears. She refused to let them fall. Tears would only make him worry, and he didn’t need to. Not anymore.
“Thank you for coming to check on me.” She kept her voice light despite the pain.
“I promised I’d get you out if I had to.” He glanced back toward the longhouse, to the people standing behind her. “But I’m glad you’re happy…even if it means leaving you here.”
A thousand memories passed between them. Lazy afternoons of tafl, walks through the city when she needed an escape, his steady hand shielding her from the worst of her father. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him with all her strength.
“I’ll return as often as I can,” he promised as they pulled apart. With the smallest smirk, he added, “I actually think I might like it here.”
“Good.”
He lingered a heartbeat more before turning to mount his horse.
From the saddle, he gave her a final nod.
A wordless farewell. Before he turned toward the road, his attention shifted past her, straight to Aevar.
They shared a brief look, heavy with unspoken meaning.
Then he gave the order to move, and the group rode out.
Eadlyn stood motionless, watching them go. The pain swelled in her chest, but not as paralyzing as the first time. As the sound of hooves and wheels faded down the road, she pressed her hands together and prayed—for Galen’s safety, for Essix, and for the day he might return.
She sensed Aevar join her. The gravity of his presence beside her was unmistakable. When she turned, he was already watching her.
“Do you wish you were going back with him?”
His voice was calm, but beneath it, something heavy rested. He was offering her a choice. No resistance. No persuasion. If she said yes, if she so much as hinted at wanting to leave, he would not stop her. He would let her go.
She looked once more at the empty road, dust still floating in the morning light, and turned back to him.
“No. I wish he could stay, but I have no desire to return to Essix.” She reached for his hand, slipping her fingers into his. “My place is here. With you.”
The truth of it settled over him, easing his posture, and the uncertainty in his eyes gave way to something deeper. Something a lot like hope.