Chapter 8 #2
"Ye'll be fine." Magnus crossed the room, stopped an arm's length away from her. "Just be yerself. Be honest. They'll respect that more than any pretty words or court manners."
"I've never met any Norse jarls before."
"Ye've met me."
"Aye, and look how well that's gone." But there was the hint of a smile in her voice.
Magnus felt his mouth twitch. "Just dinnae let them intimidate ye. They're large and loud and they like tae test people. But they're nae cruel. Nae tae women, anyway."
Ada took a deep breath. "All right. When dae I need tae be ready?"
"Sundown. I'll come fetch ye meself."
He left before she could respond.
The great hall felt smaller with five jarls and their retinues filling it.
Ada descended the stairs on Magnus's arm, her heart hammering so hard she was certain everyone could hear it. The hall was loud—men's voices raised in laughter and argument, the clatter of cups and plates, the crackling of the fire.
And at the high table, four men who looked like they could break her in half without trying.
"Easy," Magnus murmured near her ear. "They willnae bite."
"That's nae comfortin’."
Magnus's hand tightened on her arm, steadying, grounding. "Come on. Let's get this over with."
They approached the high table. The four jarls turned as one, and Ada felt their gazes land on her like physical weight.
Harald was tall and lean, with pale gold hair and gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Ragnar was broader, built like a stone wall, with cropped pale hair and a face that might have been carved from granite. Ivar was dark-haired and sharp-eyed, watching her with obvious calculation. And Erik—
Erik looked exactly like the rumors said. Tall, broad-shouldered, with cold gray-blue eyes and an expression that suggested he'd seen too much blood to be impressed by anything.
"Lady Ada," Magnus said formally. "May I present Harald Alvsson of Lewis, Ragnar Ketilsson of Uist, Ivar Gunnarsson of Mull, and Erik Thorsen of Skye."
Ada forced herself to curtsy. "Me lairds."
"Nay need fer that," Erik said, his voice surprisingly mild. "We're nae at court here."
"So, we heard," Ivar added with a sharp grin, "that Magnus is in trouble fer tryin' tae refuse ye on the dock."
Heat flooded Ada's face. "Ye heard about that?"
"Everyone heard about that," Harald said dryly. "Brian sent messengers tae half of Scotland complainin' about Magnus's stubbornness."
"I wasnae stubborn," Magnus said. "I was cautious."
"Ye were bein' a fool," Ragnar rumbled. It was the first time he'd spoken, and his voice was deep enough to rattle the cups on the table. "The lass is clearly nay threat."
"Thank ye?" Ada said uncertainly.
A woman appeared at Erik's elbow—small, dark-haired, heavily pregnant. She elbowed Erik in the ribs. "Stop loomin’. Ye're scarin' her."
"I'm nae loomin’."
"Ye're always loomin'." The woman moved around the table to Ada, her smile warm despite the wariness in her eyes. "I'm Claricia. Erik's wife. And I ken exactly how ye're feelin' right now."
Ada felt something in her chest ease. "Ye dae?"
"Aye. Less than a year ago, I was standin' where ye are. Terrified out of me mind, wonderin' if I'd survive the week." Claricia took Ada's hand. "But I did. And ye will too."
"She's right," Erik said, and there was something in his voice—pride, maybe, or affection. "The first few weeks are the hardest. After that, it gets easier."
"Or at least more predictable," Harald added.
"Or at least ye stop expectin' them tae kill ye in yer sleep," Ivar finished.
Magnus made an exasperated sound. "Ye're nae helpin'."
"We're nae tryin' tae help," Ivar said cheerfully. "We're testin’ her. See if she can hold her own."
Ada straightened her spine. She could survive this.
"I can hold me own just fine," she said. "And if ye're waitin' fer me tae faint or cry or run away, ye'll be waitin' a long time."
Silence fell over the table.
Then Ragnar laughed, a deep, booming sound that made the cups rattle. "I like her."
"Aye," Harald agreed. "She's got spine."
"More spine than Magnus deserves," Ivar added.
Magnus's hand tightened on Ada's arm, possessive, protective. "Are ye all finished?"
"Fer now," Erik said. He looked at Ada directly. "Sit with us, Lady Ada. Let's see if ye can keep up."
Ada let Magnus guide her to a seat between him and Claricia. As the meal progressed—platters of roasted meat, fresh bread, ale flowing freely—she found herself relaxing incrementally.
The jarls were loud. Crude at times. They argued about everything from ship designs to the best way to kill a man in single combat. But they also laughed easily, teased each other mercilessly, and treated her with a rough respect that felt more genuine than any court courtesy.
And Claricia, she was a godsend.
"How are ye feelin'?" Ada asked quietly during a lull in the conversation. "The bairn, I mean."
"Heavy." Claricia laughed, one hand on her swollen belly. "And impatient. He kicks constantly. Keeps me up half the night."
"He?"
"Erik's convinced it's a boy." Claricia's expression softened. "Though I dinnae care, as long as it is healthy."
"When are ye due?"
"Two months more or less," Claricia looked at Ada seriously. "I heard what ye did in the village. Figurin' out about the poisoned well together with Magnus. That was smart."
"I just—I noticed a pattern, that's all."
"Dinnae sell yerself short. A lot of people wouldnae have seen it." Claricia glanced at Magnus, who was deep in conversation with Erik. "He's a good man, ye ken. Beneath all the ice and severity. It just takes time tae see it."
"How much time?"
"Fer me and Erik? About three weeks of almost dyin' before we figured out we actually liked each other." Claricia grinned. "But I'm hopin' ye'll have an easier go of it."
Ada laughed despite herself. "That's nae a high bar tae clear."
"Nay, it's nae." Claricia squeezed her hand. "But ye'll manage. I can tell. Ye're stronger than ye think."
The meal stretched long into the evening. By the time it ended, Ada's cheeks hurt from smiling, her voice was hoarse from talking, and she felt more exhausted than she had in days.
But she also felt something else.
Acceptance.