Chapter 70 #2
Kalfr’s smile back toward Gaelfr was fond too, suggesting he wasn’t surprised by any of this — but he shook his head, and took another deep breath.
“But again, Raye was right,” he countered, hoarse.
“This was not fair to you, Gael. It was not fair for me to make you watch whilst I took a mate without you. It was not fair to break my vow to you, to push you away from me across the sea, all that time. And it was not fair” — he twitched a grim little smile — “to expect you to stay true and blameless, amidst all this. I should have seen that all my tests would drive you to hide from me, and speak false to me. I should have seen that I might drive you into deeds that would hurt not only us, but those we care for, also.”
His sad eyes flicked toward Raye, and his hand gently squeezed hers.
“I should not have been surprised,” he continued slowly, “that you pushed Raye as you did, Gael, and sought to test her, and make her prove herself to me. For this is what I have always taught you to do, is it not? This is what you knew I wished for. This is the only way you knew to please me, and grant me peace.”
He fell silent for a moment, as the cheerful barks and yelps from Svein and Mr. Snoofles rang through the air around them.
“And mayhap,” Kalfr said, almost too quiet to hear, “Raye was right about how this began between us, all those summers ago. Mayhap I… I wished you to swear that vow to me, Gael, to make me your ástvinur. Mayhap I even pushed you into this. For this then underpinned all else between us, did it not? It granted me all the power over you, all the safety I craved — and it granted you a lifelong debt you should always be fighting to repay.”
The sun had come out above them, beaming bright through the afternoon sky, but Raye felt a flicker of that old darkness, as the miserable truth of Kalfr’s words burrowed deep into her thoughts.
He really hadn’t trusted them. He really had been testing both her and Gaelfr, all that time.
And could Sybil have been right, after all?
Could he still be a lying duplicitous snake, constantly watching and plotting against them…
But then Gaelfr’s breath huffed out, harsh and exasperated, almost a growl.
“Ach, enough, ástin mín,” he snapped. “Mayhap you were not always right in this, but I was not, either. And you forget all the rest, ach? All the times you have soothed me, and helped me, and made me laugh, and brought me peace. All the pleasure and safety you have granted me in return. All the cleverness you have wielded on my behalf. Ach” — his eyes flicked toward Raye — “even how you chose the perfect mate for us. Knowing just what I longed for most, and then seeking this out for us.”
What? Raye’s hand spasmed in Kalfr’s, and she stared back and forth between them. There was no way that was true, no way Kalfr had been thinking of Gaelfr when he’d first come to her — but curse him, Kalfr grimaced, and his eyes on Gaelfr looked caught. Guilty.
“Do not even try to deny this, ástin mín,” Gaelfr continued, with a purposeful nod toward Raye.
“You just happened to find this quick, brave Bautul woman, born ripe and plump and comely from her garden, weaving the goddess’ own magic.
Not only this, but she is hungry and shameless and greedy for us, and revels in my care and tending, and in our command.
She is perfect, ástin mín, the utmost I could have longed for in a mate, and you gained her not just for yourself, but for me. ”
His words struck Raye breathless, reverberating too hot and powerful through her chest. Gaelfr really thought all that, about her? He thought she was ripe and plump and comely? The utmost he could have ever longed for? Perfect?
But his glance toward her was flinty, his jaw set, and then he raised his brows back toward Kalfr in a defiant challenge.
And Kalfr didn’t back down, though his shoulders sagged, his mouth twisting.
“Ach, well,” he replied. “Then I made Raye your enemy. I pushed her away from us, also. And even once you brought her back to us” — his eyes slid toward Raye, glimmering with regret — “I tested her, also. I wished her to prove herself to me. And I…”
His voice faded, his throat convulsing, and Raye could see the effort in his breath, the way it shuddered through him.
“And I did not tell you, Raye,” he continued thickly, “the truth of my own past, nor the dangers our sons faced, within our clan. I would have done all within my power to guard Svein, and keep him safe from harm — but my own father would have once sworn this, also. And I…”
He heaved for breath again, the pain in his eyes flaring brighter.
“I ken you were right in this, also,” he croaked.
“This was part of why I did not fight for you and Svein, nor come back to you, as I should have. It is truth that I feared causing more war, and feared you taking Svein across the sea — but I also did not trust my own clan with my son. Not even once the war was ended. I thought — I hoped — Svein was safer, with you. Without the Bautul. Without me.”
Without me. Raye’s stomach plummeted, because maybe that was the last missing thread, wasn’t it? Kalfr hadn’t trusted himself, either. He hadn’t trusted that he could keep Svein safe. He’d thought Svein would be safer, better off, without him.
“And mayhap,” Kalfr continued, almost a whisper now, “this is yet truth. Mayhap you would all be better, safer, without me. Look at what I have brought upon us even this day, ach? I have failed you. All of you. And mayhap I always will.”
He’d failed. Failed. And maybe he always would.
It struck even deeper than all the rest, into the same fear and grief bound into all Raye’s darkness, too.
And looking at Kalfr now, at the sorrow in his eyes, the weight on his shoulders, there was only more understanding, heavy and heartsick.
Kalfr pushing them all away hadn’t just been a test, had it?
No. He’d also been trying to help them. To save them, from himself.
Raye’s breaths were coming fast and ragged, and she fought to rip through the tangles, to find the truth in all this mess.
“But — I failed too, Kalfr,” she choked.
“I barred you from Svein’s life. I did my best to keep you away from him.
I made that threat to take him across the sea.
And even after I did all that, when you should have hated me, you still kept coming.
You still helped us. You still let Svein know you cared.
You were still a good father to him. You still are. ”
She shot a glance toward Svein, who was now loudly shrieking as he and Mr. Snoofles chased Iyolf around a tree.
“And even when you were parted from Svein,” she continued, “you kept trying to make your clan better. You did everything you could for your clan’s sons, trying to help them and guard them.
You tried to build a band, a clan, a home, where Svein could be safe. ”
Kalfr blinked at her, his eyes bright, while Gaelfr released his hand in favour of caressing his back, and caressing Raye’s, too. Offering them both his support, his encouragement, as he’d so often done, all this time.
“You wanted to prove yourself to us, too,” Raye said to Kalfr, her voice breaking. “You wanted to pay your penance, and atone. And you…”
She dragged in a breath, searched his bright eyes.
“You were planning to come back for us,” she whispered.
“Once you were sure Svein would be safe with your clan. Right? You worked to reform the Bautul, to build the byrgi, to make it safe. To build a band you trusted to guard your son, even if you failed.”
Kalfr didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to, because it was all there, glimmering in his too-bright eyes. Yes, he’d been planning that. Fengr had been right. This byrgi hadn’t just been for Kalfr’s clan, for his band. It had been for Svein. For her.
“But,” Kalfr began, shaking his head, and he was about to bring up Sybil hunting him, and the ways all his plans had been ruined. The way he’d almost fallen to his grief and his loss. His certainty that he’d failed, that he would never be enough, that the goddess had abandoned him.
But Raye put her fingers to his lips, and gave him a wavering smile. “You did it, Kalfr,” she whispered. “You proved it to us. You paid the price. Whatever atonement you felt you owed us — it’s finished.”
Kalfr was still shaking his head, but Raye kept smiling, feeling the goddess’ quiet certainty settling around her.
“It was always finished,” she continued, “because you were always enough. You were always worthy of love, and care, and safety, no matter how many ways you failed. And maybe” — her smile trembled, her eyes blinking hard — “maybe we all can be. Maybe we can all learn to just be together, to accept each other. To accept all our failures, all our wrong choices, all the scars. Because every Bautul bears a few scars, right?”
It was something Kalfr had told her long ago, and she could see the recognition in his eyes as his hand slipped out of hers, and rose to her neck. Stroking over the bite-marks scarring her skin, and gently down over her new scar, too. The one — her eyes followed his touch — over her heart.
Raye’s hand closed over his, holding it there, feeling more of the goddess’ truth settling upon them.
“And maybe our mistakes weren’t something to be forgotten, or erased,” she whispered.
“Maybe they’re just — part of what brought us here.
Part of what brought us together, and gave us such a perfect son, and made us a family. ”
Her wet eyes slid toward Svein, still gleefully shouting as he raced around with Eyolf and Iyolf and Mr. Snoofles. And she could feel Kalfr watching too, could hear the swallow in his throat, while Gaelfr eased in closer behind him, inhaling deep against his neck.
“Ach, our wise mate speaks truth, ástin mín,” he murmured.
“And we have already begun to learn all this, have we not? We have come together, and brought each other great pleasure and peace. We have defeated our enemy. We have made a safe home for our son. We have done much good work for our band and our kin. We have even found a new way to wield all these tests and demands of yours, so we all can enjoy them.”
He meant Kalfr’s new taste for command in bed, but more unease flickered across Kalfr’s eyes as he glanced toward Raye. “But you thought these tests were… a punishment,” he said, halting. “Did you not? As something you owed to me, rather than…”
But Raye put her fingers to his lips again, shook her head. “I still loved it,” she whispered. “I loved learning with you, playing with you, finding such pleasure with you. And I especially loved having… permission, to do all that. Having that… power.”
Her voice dropped, beneath something like shame, but the relief and comprehension flashed across Kalfr’s eyes, and he caught her hand, and raised it to his mouth.
“Ach, saeta,” he murmured, as his soft lips pressed against her fingers.
“And you granted me this permission, and this power, also. You showed me a way to peace that I would never have found, without you.”
Raye’s smile was swift, and a little weepy, and she rapidly nodded. “You showed me that, too,” she replied. “So we’ll keep finding it together, won’t we? We’ll keep meeting each other, and enjoying each other, and learning from our mistakes. Because you’re still —”
Her voice cracked, her eyes stinging, as the emotion swerved and buckled in her chest. “You’re still the orc I wanted as my mate,” she whispered.
“You’re still so generous, and clever, and kind.
You’ve given me so much, and forgiven me for things that should have been unforgivable.
You’re a wonderful father, and” — she shot a teary glance at Gaelfr — “you have a wonderful ástvinur, too. And I —”
I love you, she meant to say, but her throat was too blocked to get it out. And Kalfr had to know, she’d told him already, that very morning — but he hadn’t said it back, had he? And what if he didn’t, what if he couldn’t, what if he didn’t feel the same at all, and —
He swept forward, and dragged her into his arms. Cradling her so close and warm and safe, as his breath gasped against her hair.
“Ach, sweet saeta,” he rasped. “I love you, also. You have always been the bravest, kindest, loveliest, most generous woman I have ever met, and I have never stopped grieving all the ways I have hurt you, and failed you. I have never, ever stopped missing you, all these years apart.”
The surprise and relief swept through Raye’s entire body, trembling her in Kalfr’s arms, and she could feel him trembling too, his lips pressing fervent against her hair.
“And I ought never to have spoken to you as I did, your first day here,” he continued.
“I ought never to have hurled such a test upon you, and made you believe you alone bore all this guilt and failure, and were bound to make amends to me. I spoke in anger, and cruelty, and in the pain of the bond, and despite this, you yet —”
His voice cracked, his claws spasming against her back, squeezing her closer.
“You yet honoured this,” he choked. “Even if you no more wish us to weigh this, you — you did this, saeta. You kept your vow, in every way there was to do this. You offered me faith and patience and kindness. You helped me with my band and my byrgi. You welcomed my touch and my pleasure, and you welcomed my beloved ástvinur, also. You showed your fealty not only to me, and to Gael, but to all our band, and all our kin. I did not trust you at first, I did not think I could ever trust you or anyone else again, but —”
He drew back from her, and gently stroked his hands against her cheeks, wiping the wetness away, even as tears streaked down his own cheeks.
“You showed me a way to trust, also,” he whispered.
“And you keep showing me more, with every new day. Just as the wise, brave, beautiful daughter of the goddess you are.”
There was no way for Raye to answer that, no way to stop more water from escaping her eyes, the sobs wrenching from her chest. But her mate was here, both her mates were here, wrapping her warm and close between them. Making everything good again, right again, safe again.
And when Raye looked for even a sliver of the old doubt and darkness, it was already slipping away. Vanishing into the light of the goddess’ blessing, and the joyous ring of Svein’s laughter, carrying through the trees.