Chapter 47
It took far too long for Raye to clean up and drag herself upstairs again, and out toward the training grounds. Toward Gaelfr.
It felt like a bizarre compulsion, like something she would have done even if Kalfr hadn’t told her to. As if she wanted Gaelfr, needed his reassurance, needed him to settle the rising confusion and disbelief now screaming behind her eyes.
What the hell. What in the gods’ names had she just done?
She’d learned Kalfr could have children, and instead of running away from him, or calling him to task for not making that fact excessively clear to her, she’d sought him out.
She’d touched him. She’d bent over for him in a corridor.
She’d all but shouted at him, Yes. Yes, I’ll bear you that son. Please, give it to me, now.
And Kalfr had said it, too. He’d silently shouted back at her, Yes, bear me another son. I want that, with you. I’ve been wanting it all this time.
But — why? Why would Kalfr want that with her, especially after all the ways she’d failed? Was it more penance? More punishment? A horrible visceral way for him to hurt her, to weaken her, to lord his power over her?
Raye’s steps rushed faster as she caught sight of Gaelfr in up ahead, trading vicious punches with Othan in one of the sparring rings.
And Gaelfr had already caught sight of her too, his body straightening as he turned toward her — and he ducked under Othan’s punch, and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good work, brother,” he said. “But now it is my mate’s turn. ”
His mate. Despite everything, it slightly settled Raye’s racing heartbeat, and she attempted a nod toward Othan’s sweaty, genial face as he strode past. While Gaelfr beckoned her closer, his eyes shifting, his nostrils flaring.
“Svein is in the garden with Eyolf and Iyolf,” he told her. “Is there aught you need, saeta?”
His tone was mild, but his nostrils flared again, his eyes flicking down to Raye’s groin. Saying, very clearly, that he knew exactly what she and Kalfr had just done. And against all reasoning, she lurched closer toward him, enough to touch her trembling hand to the solid safety of his chest.
“I… met Kalfr, in the corridor,” she said thickly. “You’re not… angry, are you?”
Gaelfr shook his head, though his brow furrowed, his mouth pursed. “Ach, no,” he said. “My ástvinur deserves whatever pleasure he pleases, and we have both agreed to offer him this. But” — his head cocked sideways — “why do you scent thus? Did you not truly wish for this, with him?”
Raye grimaced and waved the question away — she’d wanted it, if nothing else — but Gaelfr kept watching her, waiting for her answer.
And how did she begin to talk about this with him, and why did she even want to?
She shouldn’t have allowed herself to trust him either, he’d been fattening her up to bear Kalfr’s son, all this time…
“Did you know,” she finally blurted out, “that Kalfr can still father children? That he could have another son, with — with me?”
Her voice came out sharp, accusing, and Gaelfr’s eyes went wary, even as he slowly nodded. “Ach, I knew this,” he said carefully. “And you did not?”
Raye bit back her groan, and her hand tightened to a fist against his chest. “No, I didn’t!” she shot back. “Kalfr didn’t tell me, and I didn’t —”
I didn’t ask, she’d meant to say, but she shut her mouth, shook her head, and shoved herself backwards, away from him. It was so ridiculous, so stupid, and why did she feel this way, when she’d ignored every possible warning? When she’d just bent over and offered it up, on purpose?
“And you didn’t say, either,” she continued, her voice choked. “Gods, Gael, all your talk of feeding and fattening, and you never once let on that you were actually planning for this! Plotting to gain yourself another son!”
She couldn’t at all follow that look in Gaelfr’s eyes, something like vulnerability, like longing — but then he shook his head, and came a step toward her.
“No, woman,” he snapped. “My utmost aim in this was always to tend you, and help you, as I have sworn to do. And ach, it is clear you and Kalfr have been wishing to make another son together, so I wished to help grant this to you. To all of us.”
Raye gaped back at Gaelfr, at the familiar stubborn certainty in his eyes. As if — he really thought she and Kalfr wanted another son together? That they’d been wanting a son all this time?!
“B-but,” Raye protested, frantically searching his face. “Why would you think that? Where the hell did you get that? I haven’t been wanting that, Kalfr surely hasn’t been wanting that, and —”
But Gaelfr’s eyes on hers were increasingly incredulous, and he barked a low, disbelieving scoff.
“I can scent you, woman,” he countered. “I can scent both of you. And also, I witnessed you together! You did not once falter, before Kalfr took you. You did not once ask him this. And thus, I am sure he thought — as I did — that you only did not yet wish to speak of it!”
Raye’s heart skipped, her eyes briefly closing, because… no. She hadn’t asked, on either of those altars. But that was because of what Kalfr had said about the healer stoppering his seed… right?
“And when we were at the mountain,” Gaelfr continued, even more decisive than before, “the midwife offered you her help in preventing a son. And before all our clan, you refused this! You made it clear to us all that when Kalfr took you upon that altar, you would be offering him this son, also!”
What? The ground swayed beneath Raye’s feet, because — had they really all thought that? Had they all taken her refusal as… an offering? Had it really all been part of her penance, her punishment, this entire time?
Gaelfr was watching her too closely now, and his hands settled against her shoulders, holding her upright. “I thought,” he said, carefully now, “you wished for this with him. I thought you wished to grant him this gift, and this trust.”
This gift. This trust. All of it striking too powerfully through Raye’s chest, while Gaelfr kept studying her, his stubbornness fading. “Did you not wish for this, then?” he asked uncertainly. “Did you not wish for another son with Kalfr? With us?”
With us. Raye’s throat bobbed, and before her, Gaelfr’s mouth twisted with something almost like grief. “Should you not,” he continued, slower, “you ken Rurik can yet address this, ach? He can yet stop this, upon either of you, at any time you wish.”
It struck strangely through Raye’s thoughts, enough to jolt her to stillness. “Really?” she asked, hoarse. “But… Rurik didn’t say anything about that, when we met today.”
Gaelfr grimaced and muttered something about useless entitled healers, but his eyes kept intently searching hers. “Do you… wish me to take you to him now, then?” he asked, halting. “And stop any chance of this son?”
Raye’s heart thudded, and she gazed back at him, unmoving.
She should say yes. She should instantly recoil at even the idea of bringing another child into this mess.
Of willingly having a son with an orc who might still hate her, an orc who she still couldn’t trust, who might still be punishing her. Who might be dead in ten days.
But she couldn’t make herself say it. Couldn’t force those words out of her mouth. And the vision of her and Kalfr in the tunnel was unspooling behind her eyes, how she’d touched him, bent over for him, wanted him. Wanted to meet him. To trust him.
“I just,” she began, helpless, and she blinked down at her hands, which were still touching Gaelfr’s chest. “Are you sure Kalfr wants that? And you would want that, too?”
It was perhaps a ridiculous question, given that she’d just accused Gaelfr of plotting to gain this exact end — but his breath shuddered out with unmistakable relief. And when Raye glanced up, the relief was shining in his eyes, too, along with a trace of his familiar stubbornness.
“Ach, we would welcome this,” he replied. “Why ever would we not?”
There was a thread of incredulity rising in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe Raye could even consider otherwise, and she swallowed, searched his eyes. “Even if the son wasn’t… yours?” she asked, helpless. “Even if it was Kalfr’s again?”
The incredulity filtered across Gaelfr’s face, now, his eyes skeptical, his lip curling with disbelief. “Kalfr is my ástvinur,” he said flatly. “Thus, his sons are my sons. They shall always be my sons, and there is naught that can alter this. You cannot have already forgotten this, woman?”
He was fully frowning now, and Raye should not have felt relieved, or even grateful. “No, I only…” she began, and then winced, took a breath. “And… if we did have another son… you wouldn’t take him away, right?”
Gaelfr scoffed, while yet more disbelief flared across his face. “Have we not already settled this, woman?” he demanded. “No, I should not take him away, just as I have not taken Svein from you! I should never wreak such great harms upon my own precious sons!”
Despite his affronted tone, his eyes softened, as though warmed by even the thought of having sons, with her. Multiple sons. And it was enough that Raye could draw in another breath, could make herself say it…
“And if we had another one,” she croaked, “would you… stay? Would you help me look after him, and keep both him and Svein safe? No matter what?”
Gaelfr’s eyes softened further, and his hand gently slapped against her arse. “This is what vexes you so, woman?” he asked, a little gruff. “Ach. If we had another son, I would stay.”
He would stay. It swayed Raye on her feet, but she fought to think, to hold her eyes on his face. “No matter what happens with Kalfr?” she asked. “Even if he doesn’t stay? Or even if I… I don’t keep my vow well enough? Even if I… I fail?”
Gaelfr blinked at her, once, twice, and then his gaze slid away, to something beyond her shoulder. “Ach, saeta,” he said, rough. “Even thus.”