Chapter Fifteen
The sun shone outside the hall, the air much warmer than Eadlyn’s first couple of weeks in Nordra.
A welcome change. It pulled at her, awakening a familiar yearning.
Back in Kenwich, she had loved her morning walks through the gardens when the weather allowed.
She missed that, especially now with the first green of spring creeping across the land.
Leaving the hearth, where she had helped the women prepare breakfast, she walked over to the table and sat down beside Aevar. “If you have time today, could you show me around the village?”
Though she had seen parts of it, she had never had the chance to explore it properly. It was time she learned more about the place that was now her home.
He turned to her. Something about him was different this morning. She hoped she wasn’t imagining it, but the steady way he met her gaze gave her hope. Maybe speaking of Thora last night had shifted something between them. Maybe acknowledging the pain had begun to heal some of it.
“I’ll take you after we eat,” he said.
She smiled in thanks as Alys and Nesta brought breakfast to the table.
The rest of the family gathered and served themselves enthusiastically.
Eadlyn paused to bow her head in prayer before eating.
No one ever commented or objected, and she appreciated the silent respect.
Another Nord family may have opposed, but God had blessed her in this situation.
Mealtime had become one of her favorite parts of the day.
The camaraderie, the teasing, the sheer life that pulsed around the table.
So different from the tense, formal meals she had grown up with.
Here, love permeated every glance and offhanded jest. It gave her plenty of opportunities to work on her Nordric.
Like Kian had said, understanding it came faster than speaking it.
While she still couldn’t follow an entire conversation, she picked up more words and phrases each day, the language gradually becoming less foreign to her ears.
When breakfast finished, she retrieved her shawl in case she needed it, and together she and Aevar stepped out into the morning. Sunlight warmed her face, the crisp air sweet with budding leaves. She drew a deep breath, and something within her lifted.
Aevar led her through the village, pointing out the different craftsmen and important locations.
He introduced her to several people along the way.
She remembered seeing a couple of them in passing at the Gathering.
One was Alrik the shipwright, Alys’s betrothed.
He was a big man with strongly muscled arms from his work.
Eadlyn understood now why Alys was so smitten.
They conversed with him for a few minutes before continuing.
At the edge of the village, they came to a large wooden structure.
Outside, a man leaned on a staff, his shoulders hunched, and his long gray beard touching his waist. His blue-green eyes fixed on them with clear, alert interest. Aevar introduced him as Hjor, keeper of the messenger ravens.
Eadlyn tried to keep up with their conversation, catching a few words about food that made Aevar chuckle. He then led her inside.
Dusty wood, straw, and the musk of feathers lingered in the air. Tall wooden cages were built into the walls and housed sleek black ravens. They shifted and flapped, their sharp eyes following every movement.
“This is how we communicate with the other clans,” Aevar said, leading her down the center aisle. “The ravens carry messages across Nordra and sometimes to Talta.”
He opened one cage, and a raven hopped onto his arm. Up close, its feathers gleamed like polished obsidian. Aevar stroked its head, and it croaked low in its throat.
“I used to sneak in here as a boy. There were two ravens named Huginn and Muninn, after the ravens said to wander the earth and report to Odin what they have seen. At that age, I thought they really were Odin’s messengers, so I’d ask them to take my requests to the Allfather.
I even bribed them with treats.” He chuckled at the memory.
“One day Hjor caught me and told me I had to stop because I was making them too fat to fly.”
Eadlyn laughed, imagining a young Aevar with a fistful of treats and grand ambitions. “What kinds of requests?”
“The usual things a boy of seven asks for. A sword, a horse, to outgrow my brothers.”
Another laugh trickled between them, thinking of Erik’s towering stature.
Aevar shrugged, and his humor faded. “But the gods have never seen fit to answer any of my requests. I do not know if they even hear me.”
Eadlyn’s heart ached for him. How many prayers had he offered—not just childish ones, but desperate ones—that seemed to fall on deaf ears? “At times I’ve felt like God didn’t hear me either. But He does. Always. Even when the answer is no, even when we don’t understand, He hears. And He loves.”
Aevar didn’t answer, his attention fixed on the raven, but she hoped some part of her words found a place in his heart.
After a moment, he returned the raven to its cage, and they stepped back into the bright morning.
Circling the edge of the village, they reached the fjord and paused on the beach.
Eadlyn drank in the sight. The water glittered under the sun, and lazy waves lapped against the shoreline.
Farther down the fjord, sheer cliffs rose along each side, dark gray and green.
It was wild, beautiful, and so unlike the muddy river she had grown up near.
“You like the fjord?” Aevar asked.
“It’s beautiful. So much larger than anything I’ve seen.”
“I couldn’t imagine living far from the water.”
Though he’d lived here his whole life, she still sensed his deep appreciation for what lay before them. She breathed in deeply. The cool breeze coming off the fjord, laced with fish and pine, tickled the hair at her neck. Standing here, she felt…peaceful.
“Would it be all right if I came here on my own sometimes?”
Aevar looked back toward the village, then nodded. “The people know you are my wife. If anything happened to you, there would be consequences.”
She smiled, experiencing a strange sense of freedom she had never known before. Galen had accompanied her everywhere outside the palace. He wouldn’t be comfortable knowing she didn’t have the same watchful presence here, even with Aevar’s assurance, but she was happy to accept it.
After a few more minutes of standing at the water’s edge, they turned toward the village, walking in companionable silence. But as they rounded a corner, a familiar figure emerged, shattering the peace.
Oda's mouth curled into a sneer the instant she spotted them. Eadlyn glanced at Aevar. He eyed the woman dismissively, but she detected tension in his posture. As they drew near, he placed his hand on her back as if to guide her around the woman without acknowledging her. However, Oda’s voice spoiled the morning air.
Eadlyn caught the word Essian but did not understand the others strung along with it.
She was probably better off not knowing, judging by the woman’s caustic tone.
Aevar stopped and turned, maneuvering Eadlyn so she stood behind him. Whether or not for her benefit, he spoke in Aerlish, his words clipped. “Oda, do not treat my wife with such disrespect.”
“Your wife.” She sneered the words as if they tasted of bile. “So you defend the decision that forced you to marry her?”
“It was my choice. No one forced me.”
“And is it worth it, being stuck with the grybba for the rest of your life? Everyone knows we have no need of an alliance with Essix.”
“Oda,” he spoke her name harshly and with a tone of warning. “You will not insult her again. Leave politics to those who know what they are talking about and stay away.”
She seemed ready to keep arguing, but Aevar cut her off. “I mean it. I will not tolerate any continued harassment. I thought Heida already made that clear.”
So that had been the purpose behind the contest between Heida and Oda.
Oda’s thunderous look shifted from Aevar to Eadlyn, the loathing enough to send a chill to the blood.
But Eadlyn refused to cower. She’d faced far more daunting foes, including her own father.
She took a step forward, putting herself at Aevar’s side instead of behind him, and lifted her chin slightly.
Tall and proud, like she’d instructed her brother.
With a snort, Oda glared at Aevar before turning on her heel and marching down a side path. Aevar didn’t move until she disappeared around another corner. Then he turned to Eadlyn, regret tightening his expression.
“I apologize. I thought the matter settled after the Gathering.”
Eadlyn drew a deep breath to calm the quiver in her stomach. She’d never liked confrontation, but it was often unavoidable. “Who is she?”
Aevar sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Clearly, the two shared a history.
“She was my sister-in-law, Thora’s half-sister. She was always jealous of Thora, and now it seems she is jealous of you.”
“Oh.” An envious rival was not something she foresaw.
“If she continues to harass you, let me know and I will put an end to it.”
Eadlyn nodded, but uncertainty lingered. “Will I still be able to walk to the fjord in the mornings?”
Aevar peered down the road where Oda had gone but seemed confident when he spoke. “Yes. She will not dare harm you. Not physically. Like I said, if she speaks to you again, I will handle it.”
After seeing Eadlyn safely back at the longhouse, Aevar strode across the village toward the training field.
He half hoped he’d come across Oda again.
If he did, he’d be sorely tempted to drag her to the ring for a holmgang for disrespecting Eadlyn and settle things the old way. Publicly and unmistakably.