Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-nine
Eadlyn hunched on the bench, fingers knotted white in her lap. She pressed harder until a dull tingling crawled up her arms. It was the only way to keep them from shaking. She prayed—fervently—but still the fear coiled inside her, burning like acid.
She had never known terror like this. Not even under her father’s wrath. That fear had been close and cutting, aimed straight at her. This was colder. Feral. It grabbed at her with icy claws. Not the fear of pain—of cuts or bruises—but the gnawing dread of the unknown.
She lifted her head slowly, as though moving through water.
The air tasted of stale sweat and panic.
Next to her, Ranvi sat with Alvir in her lap, the child limp with sleep or exhaustion.
Trygg nestled beside her, his small hands gripping her waist. Inga cradled Katla on the other side, the girl’s face hidden in her shoulder.
Eadlyn watched them, envy cutting through her. Ranvi stroked Alvir’s hair as she rocked him, and Inga’s calm seemed unshakable. How could they appear so composed? So strong amidst the chaos?
She wiped her sticky palms against her skirt and scanned the longhouse. A hush pressed in from all sides. Women huddled with their children in tight knots, some whispering, others staring at the door as though death might walk in at any moment.
Heida still stood at her post, no longer pacing, but her axe tapped against her leg in a restless beat. Though the sounds of battle had faded some time ago, the silence that followed was worse.
What if it meant defeat?
What if the next face through the door was an enemy?
A muffled voice echoed outside. Eadlyn’s heart slammed against her ribs. Murmurs swept through the women as they stood, eyes wide, but Heida didn’t hesitate. She threw the bar aside and yanked the door open.
Braan stepped in. Blood splattered his tunic, a fresh stream cutting down the side of his face.
He barely made it through the door before Heida caught him in a fierce embrace.
Relief rolled through the room like a wave, loosening the tension in the air, but not in Eadlyn’s chest. She focused on the doorway, still open.
One by one, the others entered. Runar. Erik. Kian…
And then Aevar.
Her breath caught. At first glance, he appeared whole, but blood, bright and glaring, seized her attention. It soaked one side of his tunic, trailing down his leg. His sleeve was torn, the skin beneath smeared with red. Her vision narrowed, black prickling at the edges.
So much blood.
Around her, the women rushed to meet their men, blocking her view.
Eadlyn pressed forward and wove her way to the front with Inga and Ranvi.
When they broke through the crowd, Aevar’s gaze met hers.
His expression softened for a heartbeat, but the haze of battle and pain in his eyes dulled everything.
“You’re wounded,” she said, not even aware she’d spoken until the words reached her ears.
He shifted, wincing. “Not mortally.”
Kian appeared and guided Aevar toward a bench. “Let’s have a look.”
Eadlyn followed, her legs numb. She snatched a towel from a nearby basket and handed it to Kian. Aevar sat stiffly, bracing himself as Kian pressed the cloth against his side. He groaned, his head dropping forward, jaw locked.
Inga joined them a few minutes later with a basket and a bucket of water.
Kian pulled back the towel that was now soaked with Aevar’s blood and stepped aside for her.
Eadlyn moved closer to help. As they peeled away his tunic, the gash across his ribs came into view, deep and angry.
Too close to things that mattered. She looked away before her knees gave out.
Inga motioned to the table. “Sit up here where I can see better.” She gestured to Kian. “And bring a lamp closer.”
Aevar climbed up with a hiss, his knuckles white against the edge of the wood. Kian fetched the lamp, setting it nearby. The light illuminated the torn skin and muscle. Inga dipped a cloth in water and cleaned around the wound.
As she prepared to stitch it closed, Erik handed Aevar a horn of ale.
Aevar caught eyes with Eadlyn before tipping it back.
She said nothing. If it dulled his pain, she welcomed it.
She stayed close, ready if Inga needed help, but when she began stitching, Eadlyn found herself unable to watch for long.
Not the bite of the needle. Not Aevar’s flinch. Not the way his hand gripped the wood.
He had almost been killed.
For her.
For all of them.
When Inga finished, she wrapped his wounds in clean bandages and passed Eadlyn a fresh cloth. “Here. Clean the rest. I need to tend to the others.”
Eadlyn hesitated, clutching the cloth, but then took Inga’s place. She caught Kian giving her a questioning look.
“You got this?”
No. Not even close.
But she nodded anyway. “Yes.”
Kian shifted his attention to Aevar. “I’m going to find Ingvald and see if anyone needs help.”
As he strode away, Eadlyn wet the cloth, wiping blood from Aevar’s arm. Then she moved to his face and the blood that wasn’t even his. Her hand trembled as she reached to rinse the rag.
Aevar caught her wrist. “You’re safe now. No one will harm you here.”
His touch helped still the tremor. She licked her dry lips, resuming her task and gathering her resolve one breath at a time.
When she finished, she scanned the hall. Inga and Ranvi moved between the men, tending wounds and giving orders to the thralls. Several men still waited for care. The tang of blood coated the air, thick and coppery. Nausea bubbled, but Eadlyn pushed through, grabbing a fresh basin to help.
Time blurred. An hour passed. Maybe more. Eadlyn’s head throbbed and pounded in her temples. She set down a bowl of pink-tinged water and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, blinking away dizziness.
Most of the men had left, though several huskarls lingered just outside. Aevar now wore clean clothes, standing with his father and brothers in low conversation. A fierce, irresistible pull tugged at her. She washed her stained hands and crossed the room.
He noticed her right away and reached for her arm. “Are you all right?”
The contact warmed her chilled skin. She nodded now that she was beside him.
Runar placed a hand on Aevar’s shoulder. “You and Eadlyn, go to your room and try to rest.”
Aevar motioned toward the door. “I can stand guard.”
“We have men for that. You’re wounded.” Runar glanced meaningfully at Eadlyn before giving Aevar a prodding look.
With an understanding nod, Aevar turned to her and ushered her toward their room. But after only a few steps, her insides lurched, and her head grew light. She stopped, swallowing hard as her heartbeat elevated.
“Eadlyn?”
“I need…” She couldn’t finish. She bolted for the door.
Outside, she stumbled past the threshold and doubled over.
Her stomach convulsed and emptied itself onto the grass.
Spasms racked her body, her muscles wringing themselves out.
The night air was cool, but the stench of battle clung even here.
Her knees wobbled. She braced a hand against the longhouse wall, trying not to retch again.
She sensed Aevar behind her. His hand pressed against her back, rubbing slow circles. She sighed at the soothing motion, but shame pricked at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
She straightened away from the wall and peeked up at him. “For being so weak.”
“What makes you think you’re weak?”
“I don’t see your mother or Ranvi out here emptying their stomachs.”
Aevar reached out, cupping her face and tilting her chin until she looked at him.
“You’re not weak. This was your first battle.
Your body reacts. It’s not something you can fight.
” He gave her a crooked smile. “After my first battle, I didn’t even make it to a tree.
I ended up spilling my guts all over Braan’s shield. ”
A weak laugh cracked from her lips and helped ease the tension in her body.
His thumb brushed her cheek. “No one here thinks you’re weak.”
“Except maybe Oda.”
He smirked at her attempt at humor.
Footsteps approached. Kian handed Eadlyn a cup of water with an expression that conveyed understanding. She thanked him and tried not to think of how many had seen her get sick. Maybe they’d all done the same at some point.
She rinsed her mouth and took a careful sip. Her stomach still rolled, but it no longer revolted. She drew a fortifying breath. “Do attacks like this happen often?”
“Not here. Raiders rarely make it this far south, and never in numbers like this.”
She looked towards the village. “Do you think there are more?”
Aevar followed her gaze. “It’s hard to say. We’ll search at first light. But if any survived, they’ve likely fled.”