Chapter 31 #2
Atli drank deeply from his goblet, then placed it down with unnecessary force.
“My father might have suggested I court you, but he would not be reckless with Eyvind’s welfare.
What if there’d been a warning in those letters?
A plea for help?” Atli shook his head, and it was clear he was both irritated and a little hurt by her accusation.
“I’m sorry,” she huffed, guilt festering inside her. Rey had been so certain Atli was the culprit, and she…she’d been swept up in his gusto. But if it wasn’t Atli or Jarl Hakon, then was it Kaeja’s doing?
“I suppose Galtung has told you of our history,” said Atli, a note of bitterness in his voice.
Eisa sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“Old rivalries. You know how such things go.”
Eisa wanted to remind him she’d grown up moving from town to town and that she hardly knew how anything went. But she sensed there were things left unsaid.
Atli took a long drink of wine and frowned. “It was…” He sighed, sliding a hand along his warrior’s braid. “You know of his history with Kaeja?”
Eisa’s gaze raked through the crowd, picking out Kaeja’s vibrant blue gown with ease.
Rey had just ambled back into the hall, and it was clear Kaeja had spotted him.
Eisa’s brows dropped low as the black-haired beauty sidled up to Rey and slid a hand along his arm.
She’d made no secret of wanting him back.
Had she stolen the letters to cause strife?
But Rey only scowled and shook Kaeja’s hand free.
“He’s told me of their entanglement,” she said cautiously.
“Did he tell you she was with me as well?”
Eisa’s gaze whipped to Atli. “No.”
A rueful smile spread across Atli’s face, but it was edged with a certain…sadness. “I do not like to speak of it, but I feel you, above all else, are owed the truth. And if Galtung hasn’t enough honor to tell you, then I shall do it for him.”
A cold pit opened up in Eisa’s stomach.
“He was dealt a blow in the sparring grounds that he deemed unfair. And so, I suppose he thought it retribution, stealing Kaeja away from me.”
“Stealing…”
“He lured her to his bed when she was mine.”
Eisa felt herself making a decidedly unqueenly face.
“Atli,” she started, then sighed. “I thank you for sharing this with me, and am sorry you were hurt. But…” She sorted through her words, choosing them wisely.
“But Reynir Galtung would never force a woman, which can only mean Kaeja went of her own free will.”
It was clear no matter how carefully chosen, Eisa’s words had not landed softly. Atli’s gaze turned sharp, and his chair scraped across the floor as he pushed to his feet.
“Atli—” she started, discomfort twisting in her stomach.
He bowed stiffly, avoiding her gaze. “Excuse me. I require some air to clear my mind.”
And with that, Atli departed.
As he returned to the feasting table, Rey turned over Silla’s suggestion in his mind.
The very thought of approaching Atli Hakonsson was appalling.
Never mind the fact that this job was Rey’s responsibility, the thought of asking that arsebadger for help made his stomach sour.
Atli would wield his rank as a weapon. Would take control and relish ordering Rey around.
But they had scarcely a week to muster hundreds of warriors. There was no time to waste.
“How fares your friend Vig?” asked Kaeja, suddenly by his side. He shook her off, continuing his amble between the feasting tables to reach Silla.
As Kaeja caught up with him, Rey shot her a flat look. “Why are you talking to me?”
A laugh fell from her poisonous lips, the same that had spewed so many lies.
“As ill-tempered as ever, I see.” Her blue eyes gleamed with mischief—the same eyes that had once dazzled him.
There was no doubt Kaeja was still beautiful.
Yet when Rey looked at her now, he felt nothing but irritation.
“Merciless on the battlefield and in conversation,” she teased.
“What do you want, Kaeja?” He could sense the feasters glancing their way and it made his skin itch. Were they talking about him?
Kaeja’s nails tapped against her wine goblet, and Rey couldn’t keep his gaze from sliding back to the high table.
Silla looked like a goddess in that gown, stars and suns and moons radiating in the torchlight.
And based on the expressions of those in the hall, they were equally enchanted.
A gray-bearded jarl had slid into Atli’s vacant seat, engaging Silla in conversation.
Kaeja followed his gaze. “Why wasn’t there a place set for you beside her, Rey?”
“You know why,” muttered Rey, snatching a goblet from a passing servant and taking a hearty gulp. A pair of nearby nobles bowed their heads together in quiet conversation, and he glared their way.
“I simply cannot watch you suffer like this.” Kaeja sighed.
“You know this is only the start. There will be council meetings, diplomatic trips, and more feasts than you can imagine. All the while, Eisa will be up there with them. And you, Rey, will be elbowed farther and farther into the shadows. Sent about the realm to do the Uppreisna’s dirty work. ”
Rey whirled on Kaeja. “Keep your venomous thoughts to yourself,” he hissed. “And if I hear you’ve stirred more trouble with Sill”—he flinched—“Eisa, I’ll have you hauled away from Ashfall on a donkey cart.”
Kaeja opened her mouth to reply, but her gaze caught on something at the front of the room—Atli, meandering through the great hall.
Rey drew a deep breath, trying to quash the disdain that rose in him whenever he saw the Hakon heir.
He readied himself to swallow his pride and weather his discomfort.
Rey would speak to Atli about mustering men for the heartwood, but he only did so for Silla, and for íseldur.
Atli wove through the crowd, taking a goblet of wine from a passing servant. He seemed to search the room, and as his gaze landed on Rey, he changed course. Smoothing a hand along his artfully styled warrior’s braid, Atli sauntered up to Kaeja and Rey.
“Well met, Hakonsson,” Rey grumbled, glancing across the room. Silla watched with worry, though the graybeard beside her prattled on.
“If it isn’t two of my favorite people,” said Atli, a smarmy expression on his face. “Well met, Kaeja.”
“You can go climb a tree in a lightning storm,” Kaeja muttered.
Atli chuckled low at that.
“And you, Galtung? Suppose you’re off the Uppreisna’s leash now that your identity has been revealed. What shall the hound do without a hare to chase?”
Rey’s hand tightened around his goblet. “Funny you should ask.” His every instinct urged him to abandon this conversation, but Rey gritted his teeth and steeled himself in place. “I would ask for your…help.”
Atli’s black brows lifted. “Shall I fetch a healer to check my ears? I could have sworn you just asked for help.”
Gods, but Rey hated this already. “I need warriors, Hakonsson. Hundreds of them, and quickly, to do battle in the heartwood on the next full Marra.”
Atli blinked.
“And you need my—”
“Help. Aye.” Rey could sense more gazes swinging their way. Could feel the whispers building in the room. Gods but this was his idea of torture. Rey would rather bathe in the eternal fucking flames than ask this man for help, especially after Atli had tried to turn Silla against him.
Atli glanced at the high table where his father and Silla sat, then back at Rey. A slow, scheming smile crept across his face. Atli lowered his voice. “You know, Galtung, while you were gone, I truly got to know Eisa. The evening meal you disrupted last night was only one of many.”
Anger burned to life in Rey’s veins, and again his intuition urged him to abandon this conversation. But Atli, it seemed, was merely getting started.
“We’ve gotten rather close, Eisa and I. And I do not appreciate you poisoning her against me with your false accusations.” Atli leaned closer. “I did not steal your gods damned letters.”
Rey’s pulse thrummed in his temples, his hands curling into fists. The fire coursing through his veins now licked up his spine with increasing fervor.
“I’ll help you, Galtung,” said Atli coolly. “But only if you drop to your knees right here and beg.”
Red misted Rey’s vision, and he seized Atli by the tunic and hauled him up until his boots dragged against the floor. “Listen to me, you serpent,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “There will be no begging.”
Atli’s smarmy smile deepened at that. “Tsk, Galtung, such a temper you have. When will Eisa realize your true nature and come crawling to me? What do you think, Kaeja?”
What little control Rey had left snapped clean through at that. He drew back his fist and slammed it into the jarl-to-be’s pretty face once. Twice. It was long overdue, and for a moment, he relished the delayed justice.
But a choked sound from nearby had him dropping Atli to the ground.
Rey turned and blinked. Silla had made it halfway across the hall, then stopped, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
The feast-goers whispered among themselves, all eyes on them.
Games of combat were a common enough occurrence at rural feasts.
But this was Kopa, and Rey had just punched Jarl Hakon’s heir before the northern jarls Silla was trying to impress.
His insides burned as he saw the embarrassment plain on her face.
She turned and fled the room.
“I cannot decide if you’re clever or a kunta, Atli,” murmured Kaeja.
Rey couldn’t bear to see Atli’s smug expression—couldn’t confirm that he’d just played right into Atli’s schemes. Gods, but he was a fool.
Rey shouldered through the crowd, cursing under his breath. He’d planned to be a pillar of silent support for Silla tonight. Instead, he’d as good as swung a greataxe right through their plans.