Chapter 71
That night, the band gathered together in the garden to rejoice, beneath the silvery light of the moon.
Svein was tucked safe in his bed, where he’d collapsed as soon as they’d returned, and Grum had offered to stay inside and keep a scent upon him.
Olarr and Joarr were also still off dealing with Sybil, together with several others from the mountain, but according to Skirvir and Fengr, they’d already sorted out a place to take her, where she would be both kept safe, and free of running off.
As for Sybil’s army of men, they’d apparently been thrown into disarray by her sudden disappearance, and without Sybil guiding them toward Kalfr’s location, they’d stopped moving entirely.
And though a contingent had gone to Raye’s cottage to investigate Sybil’s disappearance, nothing had come of it so far — it helped that the dead mercenaries apparently hadn’t been well known in the village — and it seemed that Sybil’s men would next be returning north to Lord Nash, seeking further direction and payments.
“We have been damned lucky, you realize,” Fengr told Kalfr now, eyeing him over his mug of ale. “You did not secretly plan any of this, did you? Any of you?”
Kalfr was sitting between Raye and Gaelfr on the edge of the altar, and they all shook their heads in unison.
“Ach, no,” Kalfr replied, his voice decisive.
“We should never put Svein at risk thus. But you ken” — his eyes went thoughtful — “Joarr is a tricky orc, with many great gifts, and he and Silfast have become close brothers, these past moons. And I should not be surprised if Joarr saw some of this, and urged Silfast to offer us help — or to send a healer to us, if naught else.”
He wryly smiled toward where Rurik had Julian pinned up against a nearby tree, and Raye followed his eyes, considering that.
“You really think Silfast would have wanted to help us, though?” she doubtfully asked.
“At the mountain, he was so angry at you, wasn’t he?
And so rude, and arrogant, and overbearing, and… ”
But even as she spoke, it felt oddly reminiscent of how she’d once thought about Gaelfr — and also, Silfast had been perfectly genial when he’d visited the byrgi yesterday, hadn’t he?
And wait, Silfast would have probably also needed to approve that visit in the first place, wouldn’t he?
And maybe he’d arranged to bring all those gifts of food and supplies, too?
“Ach, Silfast did fuss and bluster, that day,” Kalfr replied, with another wry smile.
“But amidst this, he yet granted us all we asked for, did he not? And by pushing us to the altar as he did, before all the clan, he made sure none could speak against you, saeta, or doubt your place here, by our side. He meant to uphold us, and help us. And in this, he showed his faith in me, also. His trust.”
Raye again considered that, reorienting it in her thoughts.
Because maybe… maybe that entire scene on the altar had helped Kalfr.
Hadn’t it? He’d been easier, after, less distant, more hopeful.
It had meant something to him, perhaps, to have the Bautul so openly trust him, to honour his contributions and his cleverness and his skill.
And in doing so, perhaps they’d shown him the Bautul could still be worthy of his trust, in return.
“Ach, and mayhap Silfast also scented how much you wished for this, ástin mín,” Gaelfr cut in, with a teasing smirk, and an elbow into Kalfr’s side. “How deeply you longed to flaunt your stunning mate upon that altar, and make her beg and scream for you.”
Raye blinked, because if Kalfr had wanted that whole scene on the altar, he hadn’t shown any sign of it…
had he? But he looked sheepish, suddenly, while Gaelfr grinned knowingly at Raye, and hooked his arm around Kalfr’s neck.
“You ought to have scented him, saeta,” he said.
“So hungry and fuck-drunk I thought he might faint. You wrote of it in your letter, did you not?”
His letter? Raye wasn’t following again, but Kalfr nodded, and took a breath, and drew something out of his pocket. A folded piece of paper, with her name on the outside, written in neat black script. A letter.
“I am… not as good as Gael, with the gifts,” Kalfr told her, with a cautious smile, as he shifted on the altar to fully face her.
“And I ken” — he shot a rueful glance back at Gaelfr — “Gael has again beaten me to this, with his own letter to you this morn. But I have been writing this to you, these past days, and I hoped… I hoped you might read it.”
Oh. Raye blinked at the letter, her eyes smarting, because goddess, how many of Kalfr’s letters had she refused to read, all those years? How many had she thrown in the fire, without even opening them? And now, he’d written her a new one. One he hoped she would read.
Raye nodded, gave him a wavering smile — and then she took the letter with shaky hands, and drew it open.
My dearest Raye, it said. It is yet not always easy to speak my truth to you, so I wish to try writing to you, instead.
I wish to tell you how much it has meant to me, to have you come back to me.
To meet you again, and learn you again, and find such hope and peace with you again.
To have such a brave, wise, stunning mate by my side.
Raye blinked faster, feeling the tears trying to escape, but she took a breath, and kept reading. So I wish, the letter continued, to tell you all I have loved most, these past days. All the pleasure and joy I have found with you.
And then — Raye’s eyes scanned faster down the page — he had written about all their days together, all the moments he’d cherished.
Talking together, cooking together, exploring the garden together, spending time with Svein and the band.
He wrote of how struck he’d been by Raye’s scent and her beauty, how he’d longed to touch her and care for her, to keep her safe and close.
How often he’d lain awake at nights, breathing her scent in the dark.
And yes, he’d written of their pleasure together, too.
Of all the times Raye had honoured him and pleased him, and how desperately he’d wanted her.
And how, despite his initial shock and jealousy, it had healed something inside him to see Raye kissing Gaelfr, drinking him, blessing Kalfr’s pleasure with him.
And how on the altars, when he and Gaelfr had shared Raye together, he’d been utterly lost in hunger, in the wild screaming frenzy — but how he’d also found such power, and safety, and peace.
And each time we did this upon the altars, he’d written, and you granted me such gifts…
you changed me, saeta. You broke apart the fear and grief that had walled itself around me.
You showed me a path to the goddess again, and proved she could yet bless me.
For you ken women have always been the goddess’ own daughters amongst us — and there could be no greater blessing than you touching and favouring me together with my ástvinur, bathing me with your light and strength, and seeking to make new life with me, before all our kin.
I thank you, my faithful mate, and I hope to bless you in return, for all the rest of my days. With love, Kalfr.
Raye read the last part again and again, fully sniffling now, the tears escaping from her eyes — and with a helpless sob, she hurled herself into Kalfr’s arms, squeezing him as tight as she could. “I love it,” she whispered. “I’ll treasure this letter, always. Thank you.”
Kalfr’s breaths were coming fast too, and he squeezed Raye tighter as they rocked together.
And when Gaelfr’s heavy arm settled around them, Raye yanked him close too, and gave him a teary smile.
“And I’ll treasure yours forever too, Gael,” she croaked.
“You’ve been so good to us both. None of this would have happened, without you barging in like you did. ”
Gaelfr smiled back, his eyes shining with fondness, and something not unlike triumph. “Ach, you both needed me,” he said gruffly. “And I needed you, also.”
Raye’s smile widened, the affection almost bursting through her chest, strong enough that she barely heard an exasperated grunt from where Fengr had still been standing with Egil nearby.
“All this time, they only needed him,” Fengr muttered at Egil, while irritably waving his drink toward Raye and Kalfr and Gaelfr, without spilling a single drop.
“Truly, who amongst us would have thought? And why did none of us think to send for him earlier?”
Egil shot a teasing grin toward Gaelfr, and took a drink of his own ale. “Did not miss being thrashed in the training pit, mayhap,” he said cheerfully. “Nor being scolded about our poor form, either.”
Against Raye, Gaelfr instantly stiffened, and then he shoved off the altar toward Egil, while also launching into a decisive speech about how Egil’s sloppy stance would lead to his death someday.
But it was all in good fun, and Egil merrily laughed as Gaelfr tumbled him down into an impromptu wrestling match, while Fengr cheered them on.
Raye and Kalfr chuckled as they watched too, Raye still tucked into Kalfr’s side, his arm curled around her.
Though she could still perhaps scent something upon him, and when she met his eyes, she found him looking thoughtful, and a little wistful, too.
“But mayhap Fengr spoke truth in this, ach?” he murmured toward her.
“If Gael had stayed, or if I had sent for him, as I should have… he should have fixed all this, long ago.”
Raye’s gaze slid back to where Skirvir had leapt into the sparring match with Gaelfr and Egil too, their limbs flailing in the moonlight, their shouts and grunts echoing through the garden’s greenery.
“But maybe then,” she said, “you wouldn’t have found your own way forward, either.
Maybe you wouldn’t have helped your clan, or built the byrgis, or made sure our sons would be safe. ”