Chapter Eleven
Bryn
Bryn hadn’t expected to find herself so at ease with Hilda. The royal woman was a stranger from a different world, yet somehow, seated at the table with a pile of puzzle pieces to keep her hands busy, Bryn heard herself answering hard questions, even if she was being purposely vague.
“So what brought you to Stagholt?” Hilda asked. “Most outsiders have never heard of our small town.”
Bryn told her about the book she had found at the library.
“It was just sitting on a table when I went to do research for a project, like it was just waiting for me. The photographs were beautiful, and I just fell in love with it. My friends thought I was crazy, but it became my dream destination.” She giggled.
“And you’re right. All through my life when someone asked where I’d like to visit and I’d say here, they had no idea where, or what, Stagholt was. ”
“Well, dear, I’m happy that you’re here. And you’ll be a wonderful addition to the royals, I’m certain.”
Bryn shifted, still not sure how to respond. “Only until Eva returns. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m here to replace her.”
Hilda tsked. “Of course. No one will assume anything. Eva is a dear girl and has been with me for some time. I pray she recovers swiftly. I’m just saying that I’m relieved you’ve agreed to stay and help out.
I get feelings about people, and I have a wonderful feeling about you. ” She winked. “Just don’t hover.”
Bryn smiled, already extremely fond of the elderly woman. “Hovering isn’t in my nature.”
Hilda’s eyes twinkled. “No, I didn’t think so.”
The door opened and a beautiful woman swept in, as elegant as Hilda and with an air of authority about her. A faint floral scent surrounded Bryn as the woman hurried toward her. Sven moved to intercept her and kissed her cheek.
“Hello, Mother.”
She gave him a quick hug before she stopped in front of Bryn. “Freya Aftervadee. Mother of Sven, daughter of Hilda.”
Bryn shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Sven,” Freya swung back to her son. “Lars needs you in your war room immediately.”
“And he sent you?”
Freya shook her head and her long curls swung wildly. “Oh, good heavens, no. I was already headed here and offered to relay the message. He was very distracted. Something about your brother.”
Bryn watched Sven’s relaxed posture stiffen in an instant. He looked at her and backed toward the door. “Enjoy your visit. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”
“You let me know where my wayward son is,” Freya called after him.
He waved as he opened the door. Bryn watched him leave, curious as to why he hadn’t mentioned his brother was actually missing.
“Is everything okay with his brother?” she asked before she thought about it too long.
“I wish I knew.” Freya’s face clouded over.
“Erik went on a walkabout two years ago,” she explained.
“Basically ran away from home and his duties. We don’t really know much about it, or if Sven does, he hasn’t shared any information.
Erik was supposed to fly in and finally come home and now he’s just missing. ”
“That’s why Sven was at the airport,” Bryn mused. She hadn’t put the pieces together before.
“What’s concerning is that obviously the assassin knew that Erik was returning. I don’t know if his target was Sven or Erik. And about that. Thank you for helping my son when he was hit. It scares me to death how close I came to losing him.”
“It’ll take more than an arrow to take him down,” Hilda interjected.
“Not with the poison they’re putting on the arrow that prevents him from–”
“Freya!” Hilda’s voice was sharp and commanding. “Enough of that talk right now while we have a guest.”
“They put poison on the arrow?” Bryn knew she was missing a piece of that puzzle, but now she wondered just how big that piece actually was.
Hilda shot a glare at Freya, who was oblivious. “We don’t know about the poison. They’re trying to analyze it to know how to create an antidote.” She waved her hand. “You know how hunters put toxins on the arrow to assist in the kill. Same thing.”
The explanation seemed a tad too generic, and Bryn couldn’t help but wonder what Freya had been about to say. She refrained from asking because she didn’t want to outstay her welcome by being nosy. She didn’t know either woman well enough to be that bold.
Freya smoothed her hair and sank into a chair. “Sorry. I’m just so distraught. Did you see my son on the plane?” she asked Bryn. “I believe you were both on the same flight.”
“I don’t know,” Bryn answered. “I’m not much of a traveler, especially flying. I worry about my own little bubble.” When Freya drooped in disappointment, she tried to be helpful. “Do you have a picture of Erik?”
Hilda gestured to a side table full of frames, but Freya leaned over and pulled a locket from under her blouse. “Here you go. No need to get up.”
Bryn studied the photographs. Sven smiled for the camera in a regal way, and the other man was more wild, more laid back. She frowned.
“Hey. I think I sat right next to him.” She got out of her chair and walked over to the frames that Hilda had indicated.
There was a formal portrait of the two brothers.
She picked it up and looked at Erik intently.
“His hair was longer, his beard a bit scragglier.” She told them about her seatmate and how she had hoped he missed the last part of his movie.
“Once I got off the plane, I have no idea what happened to him. It’s all chaos at that point. ”
For several minutes, the puzzle pieces were the focal point of the room as her words were absorbed. Bryn peeked at the other women but was unable to read their expressions. She regretted that she hadn’t forged a relationship with her seatmate, but how was she supposed to know that he was a prince?
Finally, Freya seemed to collect herself enough to paste a smile back on her face. “How do you like our royal existence so far? I hear that you’ve had quite the adventure, good and bad.”
“It has been interesting,” Bryn responded with a grin. “And I have to say. You’re much less…. formal… than I have imagined royals.”
Freya burst out laughing. “We can be formal when we need to be, but for the most part, we try to just stay human.” She paused before she spoke again. “You know. Accessible and part of the community.”
Bryn felt the air shift. It was easier somehow, now that it was just the three of them and she felt like she had been accepted into their inner circle.
“So,” Hilda said with a spark of interest, “tell me more about your family, dear. You mentioned a sister?”
Bryn hesitated. Her family was not the best way to remain in the inner circle.
She sucked in a breath and decided to just stick with honest answers.
It made for a less confusing future conversation if she had to remember fibs or lapses with the details.
“Yes. Randi. She’s my baby sister who I raised, more or less. ”
Freya’s brows lifted. “More or less?”
“My parents were…” Bryn searched for the right words, her throat tightening.
“Busy. Their careers came first. Everything else, including me, Randi, and general home life, was secondary. So it was me packing lunches, fixing broken things, me…” She shook her head, forcing a small laugh.
“Being a mother, in every way but procreation. I often wondered how they found time to be together long enough to create a baby, let alone two.”
Hilda’s sharp eyes softened. “That is a heavy burden for young shoulders.”
“It was,” Bryn admitted. “But Randi was worth it, even if we did have our battles. She’s brilliant. She’s at college now.”
“And when she left?” Freya asked gently. “Did you feel the empty nest?”
“Not exactly.” Bryn sought the words to explain. “Her leaving home gave me the chance to go off on my own.” Bryn’s smile turned wistful. “Books were always my escape, but suddenly I was free to move about the country.”
Hilda chuckled softly. “And so you came.”
Bryn nodded. “And so I came. And what an adventure it’s been thus far.”
There was a pause, almost peaceful, until Freya, in her calm, unthinking way, said, “Sven never really helped with Erik’s upbringing.
He was always too busy working with his father, who was king of course.
I’ve always worried about him raising his own children with no experience.
Alitta actually raised her concern on the idea of it, with the ritual coming up and all. ”
A sharp pain suddenly lodged sharp in Bryn’s chest. She blinked. “Ritual?”
Hilda darted Freya a look. “You’ve said too much.”
But Freya only sighed and smoothed her skirt, more in tune with her thoughts than paying attention to her mother. “It’s more of a tradition. More symbolic than binding, really, unless there’s a child, obviously. A necessary formality to appease history.”
Bryn swallowed hard. More symbolic than binding. And was Sven trying to have a child? Her throat burned. “Alitta?”
Again, Freya paid no attention. Her nostrils flared a bit. “Sven’s chosen one. At least for now.”
“Freya!” This time Hilda got through. “This is not the time.” Hilda patted Bryn’s hand. “You mustn’t let that trouble you. We are not admirers of Alitta.”
Not be troubled that Sven’s engaged? “He’s getting married?”
“Maybe,” Freya said absentmindedly. “That remains to be seen. But she’s not right for Sven, nor for this family. Believe us, Bryn, it is formality only.”
“Pray that’s so,” Hilda mumbled.
“But he’s engaged…” Hot tears blinded her. Bryn couldn’t stop the twist of jealousy that clawed at her ribs. Formality or not, Alitta was the one whose name came up beside Sven’s. Alitta was the one chosen.
“It’s not what you think.”
“It’s more of an arrangement.”
Both women talked at once. Bryn tried to control her features but apparently failed because Hilda reached out and grabbed her hand with surprising strength.
“You are different,” the older woman said, her gaze steady. “You’re kind and loving. That matters more than lineage.”
Before Bryn could say anything else, a pounding on the door startled them. Before anyone could answer, the door slammed open and hit the wall with force. A young girl stumbled inside, pale and breathless. “Forgive the intrusion,” she begged when she caught sight of them.
“What is going on, Mara?” Freya demanded.
Mara ignored her and her eyes darted to Bryn. “Miss Bryn,” she said in a rush, bowing her head, “you must come with me. Now.”
“What’s wrong?” Bryn’s pulse raced. She rose slowly, Hilda’s hand slipping from hers.
“What is it?” Freya repeated, her voice sharp.
“Please. There’s no time.” Mara reached out and beckoned Bryn to hurry. “We must hurry. The king needs you.”
Bryn pushed her chair back. “Where is he?”
“Dr. Martin is with him in the meeting chamber. We must hurry.”
“What’s wrong with Sven?” Hilda asked as she struggled to stand.
“I don’t know.” Mara’s voice trembled. “He’s very ill, and Dr. Martin sent for Miss Bryn.”
Bryn hurried toward the door. Regardless of the conversation, if Sven needed her, she would go. She had no idea why they would call for her, especially if he was committed to Alitta. It made no sense, but she would not tell Sven no if he felt like he needed her.
And Mara held the door wide, all Bryn could feel was the echo of jealousy and fear pounding in her chest. She followed the girl down the long hallway, her heart in her throat and her mind whirling a mile a minute.
She was headed toward a disaster and had no idea what that could be.