Chapter 38 #2
Svein happily complied, excitedly chattering away as Kalfr thanked the smiling teachers — Kesst’s bulky brother, whose name Raye couldn’t even recall, now arm in arm with a lovely brown-skinned woman.
And when Gaelfr announced they needed to take their leave, Svein didn’t argue, though he did ask Kalfr when he could come back again — a question, Raye’s tired brain noticed, Kalfr didn’t answer, but instead returned with a question of his own.
Raye barely remembered how they got out of the mountain again, let alone how they ended up walking outdoors, under a rapidly darkening sky.
But the air was fresh and clear, and the sky was high and wide, and they were free of Orc Mountain again.
Raye had gone to Orc Mountain, and survived.
She’d done what she’d come to do. She’d kept her vow, and helped to gain Kalfr that war-band.
So why did she feel so tired, so empty, so defeated?
Why could she scarcely look at Kalfr, without thinking of how he’d pulled away, how he hadn’t been able to stand her kiss, even after everything she’d tried to do?
After all her best efforts to help him, at the cost of her own body, her own dignity?
But she forced herself to keep walking, her head down, her swimming eyes fighting to focus on following Kalfr and Svein along the narrow uneven path, while Gaelfr walked behind her.
Until at some point she tripped over a root, and Gaelfr’s strong hand caught her arm, while his other arm circled around her.
“You are weary, saeta,” he said, quiet. “Mayhap I could carry you, also?”
Raye’s bleary eyes blinked up, toward where at some point Svein had ended up in Kalfr’s arms, fast asleep on his shoulder. But she shook her head, though she didn’t pull her arm away. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Just tired.”
If Gaelfr noticed it was essentially the same thing he’d just told her, he didn’t comment, but instead held his hand to her arm, and began walking alongside her.
Not seeming to notice the branches catching on his legs and torso, and when Raye tried to move over, to give him more room, he stubbornly held her in place.
Making sure she was in the middle of the narrow path, safely away from any kind of hindrance.
“We ought to have left long ago,” he muttered to Kalfr at one point, to which Kalfr tiredly sighed and nodded, and hoisted Svein’s sleeping body higher on his shoulder.
And then he said something back in the orcs’ language, along with an inscrutable glance toward Raye, and Gaelfr grunted and nodded, and noticeably slowed his steps beside her, guiding her along slower, too.
But finally, they headed back down into the long tunnel they’d left through. And after an indeterminate stretch of darkness, they climbed back up into the familiar byrgi, and Gaelfr ushered Raye across the room, and toward the sofa by the fireplace.
Raye barely heard Kalfr murmur something about putting Svein into the back bedroom, because the sofa was so soft, and she was finally still.
And once Gaelfr had done something with the fireplace, he came back to her, settling close beside her on the sofa, his arm circling around her shoulder — and oh, she could just collapse into his warm solid bulk against her, and gulp in the familiar richness of his scent.
Shove away all the exhaustion, all the mess from this endless day, all the ways she’d failed.
At some point the fire had begun crackling, its warmth pooling gentle against Raye’s skin, and she’d perhaps fallen asleep when Gaelfr shifted beside her, his head rising from where it had been resting against her hair. “Svein is asleep, then?” he murmured. “He did not wake, or ask for aught else?”
He was speaking to Kalfr, and despite Raye’s exhaustion, and the heaviness of her still-closed eyes, she was listening far too closely, waiting for Kalfr’s answer. “No, naught at all,” came his reply. “And how is she?”
She. Raye. She probably should have stirred, made herself open her eyes and proclaim her wakefulness, but she couldn’t manage it, even when Gaelfr’s hand gently squeezed at her shoulder. “She is weary, but it is not only this,” he replied flatly. “I am sure it is the bond again, also.”
The bond? If Raye hadn’t been so exhausted, she might have frowned at him, because how could the bond still be affecting her whatsoever, after what she and Kalfr had done on that altar today?
But there was no answer from Kalfr, no protest, and then she was acutely aware of his slow sigh, and then the feel of his weight, sinking down beside her on the sofa.
“She granted you much today, ástin mín,” Gaelfr’s voice continued, lower. “You could have granted her that kiss she longed for, if naught else.”
Kalfr sighed again, so heavy Raye could feel it shudder through the sofa beneath her. “I did,” he replied. “I kissed her.”
“You did not,” Gaelfr snapped back, sharp again. “Not the way she wished for. Not the way she deserved.”
The words twisted and echoed through Raye’s foggy awareness, strange and surprising. Gaelfr really thought she’d deserved that? Or was he only saying it because he knew she was half-awake, knew she was still listening?
“You would not have gained that band without her, today,” Gaelfr continued. “Silfast may have claimed this was due to his mistrust toward her, and toward me — but his rage was all toward you, ástin mín.”
It was? Raye’s consciousness stirred higher, closer, and she waited, listening, until Gaelfr spoke again. “I should not have expected to find him so set against you, or scenting of such fury upon the sight of you. Not after all your fealty and service toward him, and the clan.”
His voice had softened again, surely seeking the truth of Kalfr’s answer, and Kalfr’s weight shifted on the sofa, perhaps leaning forward toward the fire.
“No, Silfast has been wroth with me, ever since I set myself to this,” he replied, sounding muffled, tired.
“I wielded his own honour and kindness against him, you ken. He vowed before all the clan to grant me full command over this byrgi as its voreur, and amidst this, he claimed his deep trust in my wisdom and fealty and good judgement. And then I turned about and chose… this.”
He surely meant his plan to sacrifice himself and the byrgi to Sybil, and there was a moment’s silence from Gaelfr, his chest expanding and hollowing against Raye’s side.
“So that is why he has not yet openly moved against you, then,” he said.
“But would he not yet have made some attempt, before this came about? Were I in his place, I should now gladly order you captured, and thrown in a deep Ka-esh dungeon.”
Kalfr huffed a sound that might have been a laugh, or perhaps another sigh.
“Ach, mayhap,” he replied. “I have made friends of Silfast’s mate Stella, and she may have urged him to this — and you saw how he is now oft in close counsel with Joarr, who is a tricky orc with many plans, also.
But” — another sigh — “Silfast is yet ruthless with his vows, most of all when the safety of the clan is at stake. And were I in his place, I would allow my death, and thus be rid of two troubles at once.”
Gaelfr’s growl was harsh, immediate, and Raye could feel his arm jerking behind her, perhaps gripping at Kalfr’s shoulder, or punching him.
“Well, no matter Silfast’s cause,” Gaelfr said, “he wished to witness you ploughing Raye on that altar today, before he would grant you that band. And she was wise enough to see this, and freely offer you this, without quibble or complaint. She honoured you.”
“And you,” came Kalfr’s instant reply, with a slight edge on his voice, but Gaelfr only chuckled, and his arm moved again, maybe caressing Kalfr’s shoulder.
“Ach, and me,” he murmured. “And this was good, was it not? I have always longed to feel you thus. To be inside a sweet woman together with you, making her squirm and squeal and spray upon us.”
Kalfr’s breath hitched, and Gaelfr chuckled again.
“I can scent you, ástin mín,” he said. “And I follow why you now need to hold your power over her thus. But when your pretty mate has dressed for you, and swallowed both your and your ástvinur’s pricks whole before all your clan, and then begged and wept at your feet as she anointed our altar with our fresh blended seed — ach.
A blessing and a kiss in return does not grant you failure, or weakness, or defeat. ”
Raye’s heart had begun beating faster, and she could hear Kalfr’s swallow, could feel his weight shifting on the sofa.
“But it yet… feels thus,” he replied, very quiet.
“Ach. In all my days, Gael, and all my darkest dreams, I never once fathomed I could become… that kind of Bautul. Most of all with the one woman I yet ought to honour most. The woman who birthed and raised my son.”
There was unmistakable pain in his voice, and maybe disgust, too, but Gaelfr’s hand only kept moving, perhaps caressing Kalfr’s back or shoulder.
“There is no harm or shame in this, ástin mín,” Gaelfr murmured back.
“You must not forever be the martyr, ach? You have borne and given much these past summers, and if wielding your power over her grants you peace, why not welcome this? Most of all when she so deeply longs for this from you, also?”
Wait, she did? Raye absolutely should have argued that, but surely Kalfr would argue it too…
right? But there was only more silence, and the feel of Gaelfr’s steady stroking arm.
“But it is also power, you ken,” he continued, softer, “to show kindness and favour, when she has worked so hard to please you. When she needs this from you. And when” — his voice lowered — “you need this, also.”
There was yet another long silence from Kalfr, followed by a slow, shaky exhale. And then movement, something easing closer, and…
A hand. Kalfr’s hand, settling warm and soft against Raye’s flushed cheek. And when her eyes blearily blinked open, he was here, leaning over her, his face almost near enough to touch hers.
Raye swallowed, or perhaps whimpered, because gods, how was he even more beautiful? His face flickering in the firelight, his lashes long, his lips so soft and full. And when Raye’s eyes caught on those lips, they curved up, and —
He leaned in, and kissed her.