Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-six
Eadlyn smiled to herself as she gathered her clothing for the day.
She thought of her new blue dress, but it still needed more stitching for the trim.
She hoped to have it ready in time for the Midsummer celebration everyone had been buzzing about all week.
It would be a perfect opportunity to wear something new.
Yet, a different dress was bound to turn heads today.
“What’s that look for?”
She snapped her head up. Aevar stood near the door, watching her. So much for stealth.
“Nothing.” She answered too quickly.
He peered at her. “You’re hiding something.”
“I am not hiding anything.” But the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
He tilted his head skeptically.
She lifted her brows. “Are you going to leave so I can get dressed, or just stand there?”
A slow, roguish grin curved his mouth as his gaze flicked to the clothes in her arms before meeting her eyes again. He probably would stand there if she let him. A little heat crept up her neck.
“Will leaving get me answers any faster?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“Then I guess I’ll leave.”
He took his time, letting his attention linger on her one final moment before slipping out. As soon as the latch shut, she fanned her cheeks. If he kept looking at her like that, she would melt faster than butter left near the hearth.
When she stepped into the hall, she found no sign of Ranvi or the children besides Trygg, who was already bouncing between the benches like a rabbit.
Aevar stood with his brothers and Kian, but the moment she entered, his attention locked on her.
She kept her face neutral, doing her best not to react under his scrutiny.
A few minutes passed before anyone else noticed Ranvi’s absence.
“Is Ranvi feeling all right?” Runar asked.
Erik shrugged. “She was fine when we got up. Maybe Alvir is fussing.”
A moment later, the bedroom door opened.
Ranvi emerged with Alvir toddling beside her and Katla close behind.
She wore the deep green gown she’d chosen from Eadlyn’s collection, trimmed in black and gold silk, with a matching sash.
Her hair was styled in the Essian fashion Eadlyn had taught her yesterday.
Erik glanced at her and looked again. “What’s this?”
She crossed the hall with graceful ease. “A new dress. From Eadlyn. What do you think?”
A slow grin claimed Erik’s face. “I think if a stranger walked in right now, they’d mistake you for an Essian princess.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, voice dropping as he leaned close. “Will you wear it all day?”
“Would you like me to?”
“I would.”
“Then I will.”
He bent to kiss her, and Eadlyn smiled, pleased with the result.
“So, you and Ranvi like to scheme.”
She jumped, Aevar’s voice brushing her ear. He stood beside her, one brow lifted.
“I wouldn’t call it scheming. Just a little fun.”
“How many dresses like that do you have?”
“Why?” She tilted her head. “Would you like me to wear them?”
His eyes dipped to the pale green linen she wore before rising to meet hers again. “I like seeing you dressed like a Nord,” he said, his voice low and rough around the edges. “But I’d also like to see you dressed like a princess sometimes. Like when we met.”
The way he stared at her, as if he wanted to close the space between them, left her breathless.
“I’m starving!” Trygg’s voice cracked through the moment like the collision of training swords.
Everyone moved toward the table. But before Aevar stepped away, he reached out and brushed his fingers over hers in a brief, meaningful touch that lingered like a promise.
Eadlyn pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to calm the flurry of nerves and hope blooming there.
She had married him for duty. And yet…the idea of his kiss stirred something deeper than she’d ever expected.
Eadlyn lifted her head as Aevar left their room without a word, and her heart sank.
Since the day she thought he might kiss her, she’d been waiting—hoping—for him to try again.
But something had shifted yesterday out of nowhere.
While he wasn’t cold or distant as he’d once been, he’d gone quiet and reserved.
She’d noticed it last night when he’d hardly spoken before bed.
And now, this morning. No lingering glances, no teasing comments. Just a silent exit.
She sat up, blinking against the rising tide of emotion.
Disappointment twisted with confusion. And then something sharper flickered to life.
Hurt. And anger. She couldn’t do this. She could not go one day thinking he might want a life with her, only to question it all the next.
Her heart would never survive that. She would rather they remain only friends.
Tears slid down her cheeks. She scrubbed them away, furious with herself for being this vulnerable. She should have been more careful.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Lord,” she whispered. “He’s my husband, but…”
She let her voice trail off. Shaking her head, she got out of bed, forcing herself to move. She would not wallow.
Once dressed, she paused at the door to gather her strength and hide her emotions behind the mask she’d perfected over her life. When she stepped out into the hall, she expected to find Aevar with the others, but he was absent.
She approached Inga and Ranvi. “Where is Aevar?”
Inga’s expression softened. “He left as soon as he got up. Today marks three years since he lost Thora and the baby.”
Oh.
The realization sank in, followed by a sharp pang of guilt.
Her anger withered. Compassion bloomed in its place, aching in her chest. Yet, beneath the sympathy, a thorn still pressed.
Would she always be second to a memory? She had accepted that when she’d first learned of Thora, but now, after everything, she’d let herself hope for more, and that hope hurt.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For all of you.”
Breakfast passed in unusual quiet. They spoke of Thora in soft tones, recalling memories and small details.
Eadlyn listened and allowed herself to learn more about the woman Aevar had once loved.
She had no right to envy her. The woman was gone, but her memory was honored here.
That was something Eadlyn had to respect.
Still, when the meal ended and Aevar had not come back, the ache inside her returned. After helping clear the table, she slipped back into their room and buckled the knife Heida had given her to her belt.
“I’m going for a walk,” she told Inga. Though she spoke calmly, her thoughts churned.
She hadn’t gone out alone since Sig’s threats, but today she needed space to think, and pray, and search for something she couldn’t name.
Apprehension prickled along her skin at first, but she walked with confidence.
The village and its people were familiar now.
People she trusted and who cared about her wellbeing.
When she reached the fjord, part of her hoped to find Aevar there.
But he wasn’t.
Only fishermen, their nets catching the morning light.
She walked to the edge and stood in silence, letting the lapping water soothe her. Here, she prayed for strength, for peace, and for wisdom. She didn’t want their slow-blooming closeness to slip through her fingers. But she also didn’t know how to reach him through the weight he carried.
After a while, she turned back toward the village.
She could return to the longhouse and wait for him to show up.
Go about her day as if nothing was wrong.
But her heart resisted. He was her husband.
His burdens were hers now, whether he saw it that way or not.
If they could not face things together, their marriage would always be strained and lacking anything more than the surface-level interest that had been growing between them.
With another whispered prayer, she veered toward the far edge of the village.
Since he wasn’t at the fjord, she had one other guess where he might be.
She slowed when she reached the stable but gathered her courage and walked inside.
The familiar and comforting musk of straw and horses greeted her.
Sure enough, halfway down the center aisle, Aevar stood at Vega’s stall, leaning against the door.
As she approached, he looked up. No tears streaked his face, but they glinted in his eyes, and the pain behind them stole her breath.
Her earlier frustrations melted. He was the one who had lost. She could not blame him for his pain.
And he had not asked to marry her. She had sought this marriage, and she had to accept whatever came with that.
“I’m very sorry about Thora and your daughter.”
His jaw flexed. “Her name was Brenna.”
“It’s a beautiful name.”
Silence fell again. He stared at the stall door, unmoving. Then his gaze lifted, hard now, and laden with grief.
“You say your God is loving and merciful. If that’s true, why did He kill them?” Anger and aching loss gave his voice a harsh edge.
Eadlyn swallowed past the lump welling in her throat.
“We live in a world that’s been broken by sin.
God didn’t create it to be this way, but it is, and death is part of that.
” She paused, searching for the right words.
How did one comfort someone who did not have the hope of salvation to cling to in tragedy?
“I don’t know why He allowed them to die.
I don’t have the answer. But I believe He holds all things, even the ones that break us.
Like a child trusting a good father, even when they don’t understand… I trust Him.”
Aevar scoffed and turned away. The sound of it cracked something inside her.
Her words didn’t matter.
Her faith didn’t matter.
And maybe…she didn’t matter.
The thought struck like a stone, crushing her breath before she even braced for the impact.
Maybe it had been wishful thinking. The walks, the soft glances, the gentle touches.
They’d meant something to her, but perhaps to him, they had been no more than a passing fancy or obligation.
Because that’s what she was, wasn’t she?
A duty. A burden forced on him in place of the woman he’d loved.
Tears blurred her vision. She had offered the deepest part of herself—her belief, her comfort, her heart—and he had turned his back without even looking. She blinked the tears away with desperate force, angry with herself for letting them come.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.” Her voice trembled. “I know you’d rather have Thora and Brenna. If there were a way I could give that back to you, I would.”
She hung her head and turned to leave, her heart breaking piece by piece. Maybe she’d been wrong to think she could stand beside him in his grief. Maybe she didn’t belong in this part of his life.
“Eadlyn.”
His voice stopped her, softer now. She hesitated but turned back. Gone was the anger. Only grief remained. He approached, his expression full of sorrow but no longer closed off.
“I am not stuck with you.” His hands found her waist, gentle and sure. “I chose to marry you. I do not regret it.”
Her breath caught. She grasped his arms, clinging to the truth in his eyes. “Neither do I.”
He sighed, remorse thickening his voice. “I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. I do want you. But sometimes…remembering what I lost…I fear living through that again.”
The words pierced deep. It wasn’t the past he was clinging to. It was the fear of losing what he had now. Losing her.
She held his gaze steadily. “I understand. And you can tell me when you’re hurting. Or afraid. Whatever it looks like, I’m your wife. I’m here to help you carry it.”
His eyes shone, and he pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. She felt his breath ease and the tremor fade in his chest.
When he raised his head, his lips brushed her forehead so lightly she almost wondered if she imagined it, but the heaviness she’d carried all morning lifted. He slipped his hand into hers as they stepped out of the stable, into the sunlight.
Here, Aevar spoke again, something in his voice searching. “Do babies go to your heaven when they die?”
She studied him for a moment. “Yes. They do.”
He nodded, his eyes distant but thoughtful. Though he said nothing more, it was enough. It meant he had been listening.
And maybe—just maybe—her faith meant something to him after all.