Chapter 50 #2
Gaelfr didn’t immediately reply, his eyes blankly fixed on the slim, colourful strip of finished weaving now visible on Raye’s loom, so she kept on working, guiding her needle back and forth between the warp threads, casting the occasional cautious look toward him.
Until he tightly folded his hands, leaned toward her, and drew in a deep breath.
“I do not like this, saeta,” he said, his voice low. “This new advance from this witch. Kalfr was not surprised by this, ach? And you ken how well he play-acts for his kin, for us, but” — Gaelfr exhaled, slow and shaky — “I know all his scents. I know his rage, and his dread, and his defeat.”
Rage. Dread. Defeat. A chill snaked up Raye’s back, and her hands stilled, her throat swallowing hard. “So you think he’s still… considering it, then?” she asked. “That he still feels obligated to — to surrender?”
Gods, it was a terrible word, especially now that it had Sybil’s beautiful naked body stamped all over it, and Gaelfr grimaced down toward his folded hands.
“How could Kalfr not be weighing this?” he countered, wooden.
“He has always given all for his kin. And now that he has built this band and this byrgi, and brought us here — brought Svein here — mayhap granted us a new son…”
Raye’s stomach clenched, while Gaelfr’s mouth twisted, his hands spasming tighter together.
“So we must keep helping him, and upholding him,” he said flatly.
“We must bolster and honour him, and remind him of his strength. Of how much we have gained together. And how much we shall yet gain, if we keep standing united against this threat.”
Raye was already nodding — of course she was in full agreement, right?
But Gaelfr’s grim expression didn’t change, even as he squared his shoulders, and met her eyes.
“And you have seen,” he continued, “how strongly Kalfr responds to you, have you not? How wielding his power and pleasure over you has helped him, and granted him strength and peace. You saw this just last eve, upon the altar. Ach?”
Raye nodded again, wary now, and Gaelfr leaned closer on his stool, his elbows on his knees, his eyes glinting on hers.
“My ástvinur loves this,” he added, deeper, “when you need him. When you beg for him, and obey him. When you offer yourself up to him, with all your hunger and truth. When you beg for the son you wish him to grant you.”
Raye’s cheeks heated, but she managed another nod, to which Gaelfr nodded too, quick and decisive. “Thus, we must continue this,” he said. “You must continue this, and keep seeking to bear his son. And if you will increase your efforts upon this, these next days…”
Raye stared at him, her heart distantly thudding, as Gaelfr’s eyes slid sideways, toward her loom.
“If you do this,” he continued, “I will send back to your home, for your other weaving goods. For all that we left behind. Your yarn, and your spin-wheel, and mayhap even your large loom, if we can take this apart without —”
But a strangled sound escaped Raye’s throat, and she flailed her hands toward him, and shoved to her feet. And suddenly she couldn’t bear to look at him, to hear another word. Because was this what he’d been thinking about, all this morning? How he could best bribe her, and bend her to his will?
“No,” Raye snapped, her voice dangerously thin, as she stalked toward the window, and stared blankly out at the forest beyond. “No, Gael. Can’t you just stop with all the conditions? With the bribery? With constantly trying to bind me and bully me into what you want?”
Her voice was far too shrill, her hands strangely clammy as they dragged down her face. And when she whirled around to glare at Gaelfr, she couldn’t at all read the look in his eyes as he gazed back. Suspicion, maybe, or disapproval, and Raye gritted her teeth, shook her head.
“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” she said thinly. “You should know by now that I’ll do everything within my power for him, don’t you? Gods, I’ve already sworn that vow to you both, I’m doing absolutely everything I can to keep it, even giving you another son, and I just…”
Her shoulders sagged, and her gaze dropped to the floor, while something inexplicably prickled behind her eyelids. “I just wish,” she continued, quieter, “I just wish you could… trust me.”
It came out sounding frail, foolish, because of course Gaelfr still didn’t trust her, and maybe he never would.
She was still bound by his conditions, by that too-strong awareness that he could just leave, if she failed.
And he’d never once pretended to claim otherwise, had he?
He would stay, but only if she behaved. If she kept her vow to Kalfr. If she granted them that son.
A sudden image swarmed into her memory, still far too strong and clear. Gaelfr growling at her, stalking toward her, his eyes burning with hatred and contempt. I should never have dreamt he could find worse than you.
And gods, how did she keep forgetting that? Especially after Gaelfr had openly planned to have her bear that son for them? She would never be able to trust him, and he would never be able to trust her, and why did it still hurt so much, why were her eyes still stinging like this…
She had to turn away from Gaelfr again, stare unseeing out the window, fight to catch her breath — when suddenly she felt warmth behind her, and the feel of a familiar big hand, slipping around her front.
“I am… sorry, saeta,” came his voice, quiet.
“Will you grant me leave to begin this again? Please?”
The question clutched too tightly in Raye’s chest, but she jerked a shrug.
And she could feel Gaelfr’s answering nod against her hair, his deep intake of breath.
“I should have said,” he began, halting, “Kalfr will need even more of our comfort and pleasure and hope these next days, if he is to hold fast against our enemy, and keep his vows to us. Will you help me in this? Of your own will?”
The question hovered in the air, quivered through Raye’s chest. Will you help me. Of your own will. And she was already nodding, rapid and fervent, even as the stinging inexplicably sharpened behind her eyes. He was meeting her. Trusting her.
“Of course, Gael,” she whispered. “I will. No matter the cost.”