Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-one
Eadlyn stepped out of the bedroom to find the air in the longhouse unusually charged. Trygg’s words blended together so quickly she struggled to catch the meaning of them. That wasn’t unusual, but the men were also energized.
She made her way to the table where Ranvi was waiting, comb in hand. While Eadlyn had tried braiding her own hair some mornings, she still struggled to create a style on her own. She greeted her sister-in-law and sat, letting Ranvi work.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Aevar watching.
She’d caught him doing that more often. Watching her from across the room, during meals, while she spoke to the children.
Ever since the day in the meadow, it had happened more and more frequently.
And every time, her heart fluttered in a way she didn’t fully understand yet.
But this morning his attention was divided.
She glanced at Ranvi as she finished brushing. “What’s going on? Everyone seems restless.”
Ranvi sighed as she separated a section of Eadlyn’s hair. “The men have decided to set up a game of knattleikr.”
“Knattleikr?” Eadlyn repeated the unfamiliar word.
Erik answered from farther down the table, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “A ball game. A test of strength, and wits, and skill.”
Ranvi tugged on Eadlyn’s hair as she braided a portion of it. Though Eadlyn could not see her face, exasperation tinged her voice as she replied to her husband, “Try not to break anything this time.”
Eadlyn raised a brow. “Break something? As in…bones?”
While the men acted as if it were of no consequence, Ranvi answered plainly, “Yes.”
Eadlyn gave Aevar a look, but he waved it off.
“Don’t worry. It’s been years since anyone has been killed during one of our games.”
Killed? “Is that supposed to comfort me?”
He shrugged, unbothered. “I’ll make sure I don’t die.”
“I certainly hope so. How do you expect me to explain to my brother that the alliance collapsed because you were killed playing a ball game?”
He chuckled, that familiar rumble softening the tension in her chest. “It won’t. I promise.”
She wasn’t sure how he could make such a promise, so she whispered a silent prayer for his protection.
They ate breakfast, though Eadlyn found herself too unsettled to enjoy it. Across from her, Trygg couldn’t sit still long enough to chew, excited beyond control at the idea of seeing his father play. Erik egged him on with boasts of how he was going to defeat everyone.
After a while, Braan rolled his eyes. “You do remember it’s a team sport, right?”
Erik grinned. “He doesn’t need to know that.”
When the meal ended, the men filed out of the longhouse to prepare for the game, goading each other along the way. Trygg scampered after them. The silence they left behind made the hall seem strangely hollow.
Ranvi rested a reassuring hand on Eadlyn’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. When it’s just the men of the village, it usually doesn’t get too violent. It’s when visiting clans are involved that things get wild.”
Eadlyn did her best to release the nervous energy building inside her.
Once they finished morning chores, the women gathered baskets with weaving and spinning, though Eadlyn didn’t know how she would focus on a project.
In the same open field where the earlier competitions had taken place, the men were assembling in groups—Runar’s huskarls alongside villagers like Alrik and Tallak.
The women took seats in the shade of an awning someone had set up.
Ranvi spread out a blanket for Katla and Alvir, who settled into their own little world of dolls and wooden animals. Trygg joined them, still chattering.
A moment later, Eadlyn spotted Aevar and Erik striding toward them. Before they reached the shade, they stripped off their tunics. She averted her eyes.
Ranvi leaned toward her, voice low and mischievous. “He’s your husband. It’s your right to admire.”
Eadlyn’s cheeks flamed. She ducked her head, praying Aevar hadn’t noticed. He didn’t say a word as he approached, just dropped his tunic beside her chair and slipped off the hammer pendant he always wore, placing it on top. Still flustered, Eadlyn only glanced at him.
On the other side of her, Erik hooked an arm around Ranvi’s waist and gave her a solid kiss. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.”
Eadlyn, trying to look anywhere but at them, found Aevar again. He was watching her. Intently. And when her eyes met his, his gaze dropped momentarily to her lips.
Her heart tripped over itself.
And then, just like that, he gave her a quick smile and turned to walk back to the field. A slow breath leaked from her lungs in relief. Or was that disappointment? Because she had the oddest urge to call him back. Instead, she whispered another prayer for his safety.
They all sat down, and Eadlyn reached for the rumpled pile Aevar had left by her chair. The linen was still warm against her fingers from his body heat. She set the pendant in her lap and neatly folded the tunic. Then she nestled it back down in the grass and laid the pendant on top.
On the field, two separate teams had formed, facing each other.
Next to her, Ranvi said, “Looks like we’ll be cheering for opposite teams.” Her eyes sparkled with friendly competition.
Eadlyn scanned the players. Erik and Braan stood on one side. Aevar and Kian on the other. A spark of competitive fire lit inside her. “So it does.”
Near the edge of the field, Runar stood watching.
“Not playing?” Inga called from her chair.
“I think I’ll watch.”
Her face said she didn’t quite believe him.
A moment later, Heida joined them. She had Braan’s tunic with her and draped it over the back of the empty chair on the end as she sat down.
Focusing once more on the men, Eadlyn found each carried a sort of club-like stick.
Erik stood at the center of his team, facing Aevar.
Eadlyn didn’t even realize he had a ball in hand before he hurled it at Aevar.
Lifting his bat, Aevar struck the ball and sent it flying over the other team’s heads.
Every man on the field charged for it as if the fate of their gods depended on it.
From that moment on, chaos reigned as both teams fought for possession of the ball.
Tackles, shouts, curses, flying mud and flailing limbs—all of it a blur.
Eadlyn flinched as they crashed into each other and hit the ground with hard thuds.
It looked more like battle than sport. At times, she peeked through her fingers, unable to fully watch.
But as the game progressed, as Ranvi and Heida shouted encouragement, as laughter and roars echoed across the field, Eadlyn’s hesitance melted into something else. When Aevar scored a goal, she found herself standing and cheering, letting her voice join the others without shame.
At the end of the first hour, one man from Aevar’s team left the field clutching his shoulder. Another limped off not long after. Runar sighed. Wordlessly, he stood from where he’d sat down by Inga and shed his layers.
As he strode onto the field, Eadlyn caught the way Inga’s face glowed with appreciation. Ranvi noticed as well, and they shared a giggle.
Inga lifted a brow at them. “What? Admiring your husband is not just for young women.”
When Runar joined Aevar’s side, Erik called it cheating. Aevar shouted back that they were still down a man, and the game continued.
It stretched into the afternoon, the sun arcing overhead.
More players hobbled off, none seriously hurt, but not unscathed either.
Alys and Nesta brought a basket of cheese and berries, which the women shared under the shade while the men paused only to drink from a water bucket before returning to the fray.
Eadlyn never touched her weaving, unable to tear her attention from the field.
By the time the sun began brushing the mountaintops with gold, Aevar’s team pulled ahead by a single point, ending the game with cheers and laughter and more than a few bruises.
Eadlyn clapped, breathless as she sank back in her chair.
Her heart pounded as if she’d played right alongside them.
As the men grouped together in a sweaty, muddied cluster, she scanned the crowd and found Aevar.
He caught her gaze and sent her a grin—one that said see, I survived—and then vanished into the others as they headed for the fjord.
Inga rose. “Well, we best go prepare the bandages and salves so we’re ready when they get back.”
Eadlyn bent to gather Aevar’s tunic, making sure his hammer pendant did not fall.
She ran her fingers over the knotwork ridges and breathed a prayer of thanks to God for His protection over Aevar today and asked that one day he would seek the truth.
Putting them in her basket, she joined the women as they walked back to the longhouse.
Along the way, Ranvi leaned into her. “You enjoyed that.”
“No.” The denial sprang from Eadlyn’s lips.
The people of Essix would be scandalized to think of their princess enjoying such a violent sport.
And yet, she couldn’t deny that her own blood still thrummed with the thrill of watching Aevar play.
She tried to stifle a smile, but it broke out anyway. “Well, maybe a little.”
Back at the longhouse, Alys and Nesta fetched fresh water while Inga set baskets of healing supplies on one table.
Though it took a while for the men to arrive, their rowdy voices reached the hall before they did.
It sounded like Braan and Kian still argued about whether it was cheating for Runar to have joined mid-game, but they were grinning as they came through the doors.
Eadlyn eyed them now that they’d washed the grime away.
Bruises and abrasions darkened their skin in places, along with some fresh blood.
Aevar’s hair was wet, and a thin line of blood traced down from a cut near his hairline.
She tried not to stare at the way water beaded on his chest. However, she remembered what Ranvi had said and allowed herself a longer look.
The men took seats along the benches for the women to examine them. While Eadlyn had never cared for any serious wounds, she had tended both herself and Edward many times after their father’s drunken rages, so she knew what to do for simple cuts and bruises.
When Aevar sank down, a wince crossed his face. She could only imagine how sore and exhausted he must be after so many hours of intense game play, but he gave her a sort of lazy smile that made her insides flip. She reached for a bowl of water and a clean cloth.
Across the table, Kian heaved a loud sigh. “I guess I’ll languish here with no wife to tend me.”
Inga lightly cuffed him on the side of the head as she passed. “Be patient. I’ll get to you.”
Everyone laughed, and Eadlyn focused her attention on Aevar. She started with the blood on his face, memories returning of when she’d done the same during the Gathering. Had there been something between them even then?
“So all these heroic scars I thought came from battle, are they actually from playing knattleikr?”
He chuckled. “Not all. But this will be the second one Braan’s given me.”
His brother snorted. “He had the first one coming.”
Eadlyn scanned the collection of scars on Aevar’s face. “Which one?”
He touched a scar on his chin.
She glanced over at Braan. “And how did that happen?”
“Well, this veslingr tried to creep up behind me while I was practicing and got a sword to the chin.”
“I was eight,” Aevar muttered.
“Old enough to know not to sneak up on a man while he’s practicing.”
“Not sure I would have called you a man.”
“I was thirteen. Close enough,” Braan shot back.
More laughter rose from the group, and Eadlyn kept working. She moved to a patch of raw skin on Aevar’s shoulder, cleaning it gently before reaching for a small jar of salve. As she smoothed it over the wound, his fingers skimmed along her arm.
She froze. Her heart skipped a beat and fluttered on.
This was the first time he’d touched her affectionately.
When she looked up, he was watching her, waiting.
There was no mistaking the intent this time.
The flowers, the attention, the way he’d interacted with her lately—they weren’t just friendly gestures.
He was seeking more. While she had harbored the fragile hope that someday they would share a deeper relationship, this new possibility of it caused butterflies to erupt in her belly.
She felt a tentative smile slip out and dropped her attention back to her work, though she found it much harder to focus now.
From the corner of her eye, she caught the pleased smile that spread across Aevar’s face, and deep in her chest, something unfolded, warm and new.