Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-two
Eadlyn breathed deeply as the fjord opened before them, its silver-blue surface rippling beneath the light of the late afternoon sun.
Fjellheim came into view, the wood-and-thatch buildings nestled along the shore and silhouetted against the forest and hills beyond.
The sight pulled a smile to her lips. After almost three weeks away, it soothed something deep inside her.
Not even Kenwich had ever filled her heart with such joy and feelings of home.
Their longship glided toward the dock, the creak of timber mingling with the soft splash of oars and the distant cries of gulls overhead.
As the ship slowed, ropes sailed through the air, caught by waiting hands along the dock.
Once secured, Aevar took her hand and helped her out of the boat.
When her feet touched solid ground again, a strange mix of relief and unreality washed over her.
This was home, and yet she was no longer quite the woman who had left it.
The others came ashore, and a group of huskarls met them, greeting Eadlyn with warm welcomes.
One of them turned to Runar and bowed. “Jarl. We received your message about Oda.”
“And?” Runar asked, his voice clipped.
The huskarl shook his head. “Gone. When we went to arrest her, she was not at her house. Shortly after, her horse went missing. It seems she caught wind of our plans and fled the village.”
Braan’s face twisted in a scowl. “Ran to Staegar, no doubt.”
A knot tightened in Eadlyn’s stomach. The thought of Oda still out there, free and unrepentant, slithered through her mind like a snake.
Runar cast a dark glance over his shoulder toward Ormvik. “If she’s fled, then she knows what will happen if she returns.”
He turned back to the huskarl and ordered him and a couple of others to secure Asfrid and Dagr while they awaited his final judgment. A judgment that would no doubt be severe, probably fatal. If only Asfrid had listened to Eadlyn and brought her back to Fjellheim.
Then they trekked through the village. All the familiar sights wrapped around Eadlyn, drawing her in like a quiet embrace.
Near the longhouse, a sound broke through the shuffle of boots and low chatter—children’s laughter and hurried footsteps.
Eadlyn looked up as Ranvi, Inga, and the children rushed toward them.
She had little time to brace herself before Trygg barreled into her and threw his arms around her waist. Katla was right behind him, clutching her good arm fiercely.
Emotion swelled, and all the pain and terror Eadlyn had experienced melted in the light of their joy.
She blinked hard, but couldn’t hold back tears.
A couple slipped down her cheeks, but these were tears of return and reunion.
Ranvi reached her next, arms wrapping around her, careful but strong, and filled with the depth of the bond they had formed.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Eadlyn nodded against her shoulder. “So am I.”
They pulled apart, and she found her own tears mirrored in Ranvi’s eyes.
Inga stepped in, embracing Eadlyn with all the warmth of a mother.
As the others shared greetings, Eadlyn spotted two familiar figures among the growing crowd.
Halbjorn and Gorum. But she knew they had not come simply to celebrate her safe return.
They, like Gudrik, were here for what followed.
This wasn’t over.
The joy of the moment shifted like a sudden wind. She saw it in Erik’s expression as he turned from Ranvi to Runar. “Staegar will know we’ve returned. He’ll have had someone watching the fjord.”
The celebration stilled, smiles and laughter fading.
Runar’s gaze cut toward the shore. “Then we move now. He’s had too much time already. If he knows we found Eadlyn, he’ll be prepared for us.”
Gorum stepped up beside him, quiet but firm. “You will not face him alone. We came to stand with you.”
Halbjorn strode forward, his tone thunderous. “Aye, and to see justice done!” He ran his thumb along the edge of the large battle axe he carried as if testing to make sure it was sharp enough to cleave Staegar’s skull.
“Staegar will not stand down without a fight,” Runar warned.
“Good,” Gudrik growled. “Then we can just kill him.”
They stood together, four of the ten jarls united to oppose Staegar.
But Eadlyn’s heart sank as her gaze found Aevar.
The strength of him. The steady weight of his presence.
The love in his eyes that had helped sustain her through her recovery.
And now he had to leave again. She wanted to cling to him and refuse to let him go, but she could not do that.
He was a warrior, and this must be done.
All at once, the men moved with swift purpose, gathering their weapons and sending for their warriors.
It all happened so fast. Eadlyn’s steps carried her to Aevar as if drawn by a string.
He already held his shield in one hand, the other resting near his sword.
His face was the mask of a warrior, focused and resolved, but it changed for her, his expression softening.
She put her hand on his chest. “I know when you see him you will remember everything that has happened to me, but don’t let it drive you to do anything you’ll regret. Justice must be done, but please, let it be justice and not vengeance.”
They’d fought so hard to get to where they were, and his faith was so new. She wanted to protect it if she could.
His jaw clenched, and his throat worked. “I will do my best.”
Heaviness pressed on Eadlyn with the weight of everything she wished to say, but no words were enough. Not when he might not come back.
Aevar reached for her, pulling her close. His mouth found hers, the kiss deep, slow, and desperate. When they parted, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you,” she breathed. Tears burned, and she blinked them back. She would not send him away with the memory of her crying. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her voice from wavering. “Please come back to me.”
“I will.”
With that promise, he turned to join the others. Eadlyn stood with Ranvi and Inga at her sides, the children watching from behind them as the men marched away. She knew he needed to go, and she needed to stay, but her prayers went with him.
Please, God. Bring him back. Bring him home.
The keels of the two ships ground against the shore with the sound of wood scraping sand.
The men disembarked into the shallows in a wave of splashing boots and bristling weapons.
Aevar dropped into the knee-deep water beside the hull and cast one final look back across the fjord.
Fjellheim was a dim smudge on the far horizon.
Home. Where Eadlyn waited. Watching. Praying.
His ribs pressed against his lungs, but he turned back toward the tree line ahead.
The forest swallowed the road to Ormvik in thick, shadowed silence.
Nothing moved. No smoke or banners. No eyes watching from the trees.
It was almost as if Staegar didn’t know they were coming, but Aevar knew better.
He fell into step beside his father and brothers as they entered the woods, shields and swords at the ready for anything.
His heart pounded, the blood in his veins already running hot.
It had been years since he’d marched to true war, but never had a battle felt so personal.
He prayed silently. Not for blood or vengeance as he might have once, but for strength and for justice. For the lives of the men beside him.
They marched in grim silence until the trees thinned and gave way to a clearing.
There, across the open field, a line of warriors waited.
Blades gleamed. Red and black shields blazed in the afternoon sun.
Right in the center of it stood Staegar.
His hatred scorched even at a distance, and Aevar’s stomach turned at the sight of him.
He scanned their number. Seventy, maybe eighty. About the same as their own force.
They halted thirty feet from the enemy line, the air between them pulsing with a long-brewing fury. The silence stretched out until Fathir stepped forward, his voice clear and powerful.
“As king, I command you to throw down your weapons and surrender.”
Staegar’s lip curled. “You bring an army onto my land, making demands. For what purpose do you march against your own people and dare to threaten me?”
“For having Princess Eadlyn kidnapped, for planning to trade her to the Kalgorans to gain their favor, and for plotting to make yourself king, though we both know if you ever clawed your way to the position, you’d never hold the title.
Not even with Kalgora backing you. The other jarls would never be satisfied, and they know you can be beaten because I’ve done it.
Twice. I will do it again today if need be. ”
Staegar shot a fiery glare at Halbjorn and the others before returning it to Fathir. “You make many accusations. What proof do you have?”
“We have witnesses to your treachery. The words of your own heir condemned you.”
“And where is he?” Staegar snapped, glancing past them. “I don’t see him supporting your claims.”
“In the bellies of wolves up north.”
A flicker of something passed over Staegar’s face. Fury or shame. Perhaps both.
“Nords have not fought each other for generations. You would come here and start a war all for an Essian princess and an unnecessary alliance? You would divide Nordra over a woman not even of our people?”
Aevar stepped forward, flames rising in his chest. “Eadlyn is my wife. And she is more Nord than you’ll ever be. You are the coward scheming behind the backs of all Nords, letting others do your dirty work instead of issuing an honorable challenge.”
Staegar bared his teeth, his sword twitching as though he were thinking of calling the charge right then and there.