Oath Breaker (Sons of Odin Book 3) (19 page)

Chapter 31

Selia sat on the cliff, bleary eyed, watching the sun rise. She hadn’t slept, either on the ship or when they’d arrived home late the night before. The anxiety coursing through her body kept her awake and alert, no matter how she longed for a few hours of oblivion.

Everyone in the house had awoken upon their arrival, and Ingrid had begun an argument with Ainnileas almost immediately. Selia had ushered the boys and Deirdre into her bedchamber and shut the door. She nursed Deirdre and sang to them softly until they fell asleep again.

Ulfrik hadn’t come in the remainder of the night. Selia didn’t know where he’d slept, or if he’d even slept at all.

The thought of Ulfrik made her heart clench painfully in her chest. They hadn’t a chance to speak privately since Grainne’s awful admission. He’d been polite but distant, as though doing his duty by staying with her on the island, but no longer cared for her beyond that.

There seemed nothing Selia could do to make things right with him.

The knowledge that his child grew in her belly only increased her angst. How could she possibly tell him now? He would think it a trick to get him to stay. He would think she was like Muirin, despairingly holding on to a man who didn’t love her.

Was she desperate enough to do that? To use his honorable nature against him as a way to keep him near, in spite of what he thought of her?

She couldn’t. Selia’s head sank to her knees as she cried.

A heavy silence shrouded the house after Ainnileas’ departure. Ulfrik left to go fishing alone, his expression so shuttered Selia had no idea what he was thinking. Ingrid remained in her bedchamber, and Bahati took all the children but Deirdre with her to collect firewood.

Selia wanted to scream. She wanted to chase after Ulfrik and tell him she was sorry; tell him she loved him so intensely it stole her breath. She wanted to tell him of the child growing in her belly. She yearned to see forgiveness in his eyes and hear absolution in his voice.

And she feared it would never happen. The chilly politeness in his demeanor almost hurt worse than his anger had. He’d now closed himself off from her in the way only Ulfrik Ragnarson could.

Selia fought back tears as she worked the loom beside Eithne. The woman had tried to talk to her, but had given up after Selia had only responded in monosyllables. She had no patience for Eithne’s incessant questioning.

They’d left the front door open to let in the light and fresh air, and Selia had Deirdre tied to her waist with the rope. Deirdre toddled around the main room and just outside the door, carrying a carved animal in each dimpled fist. She babbled, continuing to ask for Ulfrik. Each question of “
Dadai?
” made Selia cringe.

“He’ll be back soon, my sweet,” she assured. “Go play now.”

Deirdre blinked with her serious blue eyes, then wandered back outside again, calling for her
Dadai
.

Eithne turned to Selia expectantly. “I wish you would tell me what’s happened between you two.”

“I do not care to discuss it, Eithne.”

“Well,” Eithne huffed. “Here we are on this Godforsaken island, Ainnileas gone for the summer and Ulfrik not speaking to you. I think I deserve to know—”

There was a sound outside, as though Deirdre was talking to someone. Selia cocked her head to the door, raising her hand to quiet Eithne. Had Ulfrik come home?

Suddenly the taut rope around her waist went slack. Selia touched the braided twine, not understanding, then with a sick wave of fear rushed toward the door.

Deirdre! Where is she?

“Deirdre!” she called, unable to hide the panic in her voice as she ran outside. Her fear turned to terror as she saw who was holding her daughter.

Alrik. With a sizeable band of Finngalls behind him.

Selia screamed, her terror so absolute she felt the edges of her vision fade as her blood rushed through her ears. Eithne hurried behind her, clutching at her chest as though in pain.

Alrik stared down at Selia with his penetrating gaze, one arm tight around her baby as his other hand gripped the dagger he’d used to cut the rope. Deirdre stared up at him, confusion written across her small features. He looked enough like her
Dadai
that she didn’t know to be afraid of him.

But Selia knew what Deirdre couldn’t . . . that Alrik was going to kill her.

She rushed forward to grab Deirdre. Alrik pushed her back with an abrupt shake of his head. “No.” His voice was curt.

Selia landed hard on her backside. “She is your daughter!”

Deirdre started to cry, squirming in Alrik’s arms and reaching for Selia.

Alrik narrowed his eyes at the child. “You think you can bear Ulfrik’s bastard and fool me into thinking it’s mine?”

Selia leapt to her feet. “I carried her when I left you,” she beseeched. “I swear it on my life! You can do whatever you like to me but don’t hurt your own child, I beg you!”

“Where is Ulfrik?”

“I don’t know—”

Alrik raised the dagger close to Deirdre’s face. Selia shrieked, gripping his hand with both of hers. “He is fishing! Please, don’t hurt her!”

Alrik’s nostrils flared in anger as he glowered at her. He thrust Deirdre into Eithne’s arms, then grabbed hold of Selia roughly. “If I find out you’re lying, the child dies.”

Selia sobbed, reaching for her baby, but was pulled back by Alrik. Another familiar voice came from behind him.

“Where is Ingrid?”

She spun to gawk unbelievingly at the man who had spoken.
Gunnar
. Gunnar was here, with Alrik. His greatest enemy. Her panic-stricken mind could not comprehend this turn of events.

Alrik formed a cold smile. “There are times when necessity dictates a change in alliance. I get what I want, Gunnar gets what he wants. Now where is my runaway daughter?”

“In the house,” she whispered, fearing he would make good on his promise to kill Deirdre if she tried to lie again.

He turned to his men. “Find Ulfrik. But do not kill him yet.”

“No,” Selia wailed. “It’s not Ulfrik’s fault! I left of my own accord!” She watched helplessly as the men left to search for Ulfrik. She could only pray he’d seen them coming and was now hiding somewhere.

There were shouts and the sound of a ruckus on the path, then several more men came into view dragging Father Oengul, Bahati, and the children toward the house. The priest had a rapidly swelling bruise under his eye. The little girls cried and clung to Bahati, while Geirr and Faolan struggled so fiercely they had to be carried.

“We searched everywhere and this is all we could find,” one man mumbled, glaring down at Faolan. The man’s bottom lip was swollen and smeared with blood.

Alrik frowned, staring at the boys in turn, his gaze lingering on Faolan longer than Geirr. Then he turned back to the man who had spoken. “My brother is here, somewhere. Find him.”

A shriek came from inside the house. Suddenly Ingrid rushed outside, with Gunnar a step behind, to confront her father. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded of Alrik. “You think you can give me to Gunnar Klaufason like some prized sow?”

“That is exactly what I think,” Alrik sneered. “Although I’m not sure what a prize you are.”

“I never divorced Bolli—”

“Oh, but he divorced
you
. You can ask him if you like, since he’s waiting on the ship. So you are free to remarry, and as your father I have the right to select a husband for you. I’ve given you to Gunnar. It is settled.”

“It is
not!
” Ingrid shouted, drawing back her fist to strike Alrik. Gunnar snatched her back, holding her as she flailed. Eydis burst into fresh tears.

The expression on Gunnar’s face made Selia’s skin crawl. He wasn’t looking at Ingrid, or at Eydis, but instead at Bahati and Catrin. His gaze lingered on the exotic pair. “What are you going to do with those two?” he grunted to Alrik as Ingrid struggled in his grasp.

Alrik shrugged. “Take them if you desire. Kill the priest if you have no use for him.”

“No!” Selia twisted to meet Alrik’s gaze, sheer panic forcing a desperate vow to her lips. “I will go with you willingly, Alrik. I swear on my life I will not fight you or try to run away. I will be your wife or your thrall, whatever you please. But you must promise to leave them on the island unharmed, and to never return.
Any of you
.”

Alrik seemed to consider her oath as he looked down at her with the disdainful expression she remembered so well. Selia took note of his gaunt appearance. He was thinner than she’d ever seen him, eyes sunken; hair dull and brittle. He looked as though he’d already half-killed himself with drink.

Obviously, Alrik was not a well man. A tiny glimmer of hope arose in Selia’s heart. It might just be possible for Ulfrik to best his brother in a fair fight. But not today; not with dozens of Finngalls from two fierce war bands ready to swoop in and kill Ulfrik if he did indeed slay his brother.

She must get away from the island now, before Alrik’s men found Ulfrik. And ensure no one harmed Bahati, Catrin, or Father Oengul.

The muscle in Alrik’s jaw clenched hard. He turned from her to address Gunnar and the throng of men behind them. “Leave them be. Take what you like from their livestock and supplies. But no man will harm them, from my war band or yours.”

Gunnar frowned. Selia held her breath, awaiting his answer.

“You heard him,” he finally snarled to his men, inclining his head in Alrik’s direction. “Gather their livestock and anything useful you find.”

Some of the men departed in the direction of Oengul’s tower, and a few more entered the house.

Gunnar pursed his lips at Alrik. “It’s a shame about that one.” He nodded toward Catrin. “She is exquisite.”

Alrik shrugged. “You have my daughter. And I have your word.”

Grunting his assent, Gunnar turned his attention back to Ingrid. He whispered something in her ear, causing her to turn red with fury and struggle anew.

“I will never forgive you for this!” she screeched at Alrik. “I hate you!”

Alrik strode to her, dragging Selia behind him. He towered over Ingrid threateningly. “Bolli is my right hand man. You passed your bastard child off as his and then left to chase after its father. You shamed me as well as Bolli. Did you think I would allow these crimes to go unpunished?”

Ingrid spat at her father’s feet. “I hope Selia slits your throat while you sleep.”

Alrik’s smile grew wicked. “Did you not hear her? She has traded the safety of these three for her compliance, so it seems I have nothing to fear from my little wife. I shall sleep peacefully.”

Selia felt Ingrid’s furious gaze upon her. It was obvious Ingrid wanted her to defy Alrik; to say she too hated him and wished him dead. But to do so would put people she loved in jeopardy. Selia lowered her eyes to the ground, and Alrik laughed in triumph.

“You see?” he asked Ingrid. “She has learned what defiance brings. You would do well to do the same. Gunnar Klaufason is not known for his patience—perhaps you will learn obedience yet.”

Before Ingrid could reply, they were interrupted by a shout from the forest below. “We found him!” one of the men called. “We found Ulfrik!”

A sickening fear clutched at Selia’s belly like wriggling worms. The man she loved was about to be killed before her eyes.

No.
She had to do something; had to stop Alrik from slaying his brother. She pulled at his arm desperately until he looked down at her.

“Please,” she begged. “I will do anything you want. Anything. Please don’t kill him. None of this is his fault!”

Alrik’s heated gaze changed slowly to a look of cunning, then triumph. He pulled her into the house and slammed the door behind him.

Chapter 32

Selia heard the muffled shouts of the boys behind the thick log walls as she braced herself for Alrik to pounce on her. But surprisingly, he released her arm and only stared down at her.

“I see you still wear my ring.” He inclined his head toward her hand. “Why?”

Selia wiped her clammy hands on her gown. This would be the time to lie—to tell Alrik she wore his ring because she still loved him. Tell him she’d only left to keep her children safe, not because her love for him had died. But the words refused to come to her lips.

“I wear it for safety. Nothing more.”

Selia kept her eyes downcast, afraid of what she would see on his face, yet she could feel the anger emanating from him, seething dark and furious like a living thing. She shivered, remembering her mother’s words.
He feeds you. You draw strength from him like mother’s milk.

“Where is your sniveling brother?” Alrik said harshly. “Leif said you were with a dark haired Irishman when Ulfrik killed Gunnar’s men.”

“I don’t know,” Selia replied. “He left.”

Alrik eyed her as if to discern the truth. Then he growled, “I want you to tell Ulfrik you never loved him.” His voice roughened. “Tell him you only used him to get away, and you longed for me every time you lay with him. Tell him you’re returning to me now of your own volition.”

Selia gasped as the bile rose in her throat. What Alrik asked her to do was near impossible. To speak such awful words to the man she loved more than life itself would be like plunging a dagger into his heart.

“Why would you have me do this?” she rasped brokenly.

“The reason does not matter. Make my brother believe you never loved him, and I will not kill him. The choice is yours.”

Selia clenched her shaking hands together. “You swear you will not kill him? If I say this, you will not harm him at all?”

“I swear it. I will not harm him.”

Feeling faint, Selia sank heavily into one of the benches. A wave of nausea gripped her, and it was a moment before she could speak.

Ulfrik. My love.
The father of the babe she carried in her womb, the man who loved her children as his own and had made a life for them all on this island. How could she bring herself to denounce him, even if it was a lie?

“I would almost rather you kill me,” she choked, her throat tight with tears.

“It would be unwise to anger me further, Selia,” Alrik retorted darkly. “I’ll have you remember it was you who ran into the arms of my brother. I have a right to demand recompense. I am still your husband.”

You stopped being my husband the day you nearly killed our child!
Selia’s mind shouted the protest. But she remained silent, staring at the table. If she pushed Alrik too hard he might change his mind yet. If she did as he demanded, she and the children would leave the island with him and no one she loved would be hurt.

Ulfrik would be alive to fight another day. And, with the weakened state Alrik was in, that day might come sooner rather than later.

Straightening, she made her decision. Selia looked Alrik in the eye as she spoke. “I will do as you ask.”

Alrik opened the door for Selia and she stepped out into the sunlight. When she spotted Ulfrik, her legs nearly gave out beneath her at the thought of what she must do. He was on his knees, stripped of his weapons, men standing guard on either side. His eyes searched her up and down as though looking for wounds.

Selia met his gaze for a long moment, memorizing every curve and plane of his face. His shuttered expression made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“My wife has something to say to you, Oath Breaker,” Alrik snarled.

Selia’s throat felt drier than dust. With downcast eyes, she opened her mouth. Nothing came out but a squeak.

“No,” Alrik commanded. “Look at him.”

Selia’s gaze fluttered to Ulfrik. She drew in a shaky breath, praying for courage, and forced the terrible lie to her lips. “I never loved you, Ulfrik. I used you. I thought of Alrik . . . every time we lay together. I will go back to him now of my own free will, and you will stay here with Father Oengul and Bahati.”

Ulfrik’s expression remained unchanged. Not a twitch, not a softening of his gaze; nothing. His eyes seemed to look through her.

Selia willed herself not to vomit.

Suddenly, a startled yelp broke the silence. All eyes turned to the sound. Unbelievingly, Geirr stood slightly apart from the crowd of men, holding a dagger to the throat of a very surprised Leif Gunnarson.

“Let him go!” Gunnar shouted, rushing toward the boys. Geirr took a step back, holding Leif’s arms behind his back as the dagger bit into his flesh. Although several years younger than Leif, Geirr was nevertheless strong enough to hold the older boy immobile. He kept his face to the side of Leif’s to protect himself from a sudden head butt, and had one of his legs around Leif’s to keep him from kicking. The youth was completely trapped.

A trickle of blood appeared on Leif’s throat below the point of the dagger, and Gunnar dropped back with a ragged breath.

“I’ll kill you, boy,” he vowed, his single eye glinting with rage.

“All of you, back to your ship.” Geirr’s young voice shook with the strain of holding Leif.

“Geirr, no,” Selia pleaded. He was going to get himself killed. How could he know Alrik had agreed not to harm Ulfrik? “Alrik said he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“He’s lying, Mother! You know he’s lying.” Geirr narrowed his gaze at one of the men near Ulfrik. “You, give him your sword. Now.”

The man looked to Gunnar for permission, who consented with a curt nod. Unsheathing his weapon, he handed it to Ulfrik.

“Do as the boy said,” Ulfrik ordered as he rose to his feet. “Everyone, drop your weapons. Put your hands on your heads and walk to the ships.”

The march to the cliff was slow, with Geirr leading the way holding his hostage, and Ulfrik walking backward behind them to observe the men for any sudden moves.

Selia took Deirdre from Eithne, and the babe clung anxiously to her neck. She breathed in the sweet smell of her child, and could only pray Ulfrik knew what he was doing. She didn’t understand how forcing the war bands back onto their ships, weapons or no, would keep them from returning. But knowing Ulfrik, he had a plan.

They reached the windy bluff at last. Selia’s hair blew about her face and her gown twisted against her legs as Ulfrik spoke.

“Alrik and Gunnar, you and your men will remain here. We are taking your ships. Once we are safely on board, I’ll allow Leif Gunnarson to swim to shore. He will not be harmed.”

Selia’s breath came out in a rush. Ulfrik
did
have a plan. Sweet relief washed over her body. They would be safe. They would all sail away in the dragonship together, even Father Oengul, Bahati and Catrin. She brushed back tears as she reached for her friend’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance.

But too late, she caught the glint in Alrik’s eyes. He wasn’t looking at Ulfrik, but at Gunnar. They seemed to share an unspoken communication, and the expression on his features was sickeningly familiar.

He was going to attack.

“Ulfrik!” Selia cried.

Alrik and Gunnar rushed forward at the same time; Gunnar toward Geirr and Alrik toward Ulfrik. There was a moment where Ulfrik hesitated, as though weighing the decision between protecting himself from Alrik or stopping Gunnar’s charge toward his son.

Ulfrik turned to protect Geirr, leaving his side open to his brother’s attack. Alrik lowered his shoulder and hit with all his strength, causing Ulfrik to leave his feet and collide with Geirr and Leif. Selia screamed as they all fell hard, weapons coming loose and skidding across the ground.

Alrik drew back and landed a solid blow to Ulfrik’s jaw. Gunnar lunged toward Geirr with a crazed look upon his face as he and Leif scrambled to their feet. Thrusting Deirdre into Bahati’s arms, she rushed toward Geirr. “Run, Geirr!” She screamed. “Run,
now
!”

Her son’s frightened green eyes met hers. Then he moved nimbly, dancing aside to avoid Gunnar’s grasp as the massive Finngall charged. Gunnar fell as he overcorrected, and Geirr turned to dash down the steep cliff path.

“Catch him!” Gunnar bellowed. One of his men gave chase.

But Geirr was quick and knew the treacherous path well. Selia held her breath as he disappeared from view. If he could reach the beach below he would be safe. There was a crop of jutting rocks just off shore, with a small underwater cave that Ulfrik and the boys had discovered on one of their swims.

Selia didn’t like that the boys knew of its existence; it seemed so dangerous. She repeatedly warned them not to play in it. But she knew if Geirr hid there now there was no chance he would be found by Gunnar’s men.

Alrik and Ulfrik rolled in the dirt, punching and cursing, both bloody but weaponless. Gunnar strode over to the sword lying on the ground.

“Ulfrik!” Selia cried. “Watch out for Gunnar!”

“Get up,” Gunnar One-Eye ground out, gripping the weapon.

Alrik and Ulfrik staggered to their feet. Ulfrik stood in a defensive posture, dusty and bruised, a wary eye upon both his enemies. Alrik reached for the sword as if to command it from Gunnar.

“No!” Selia ran to him, gripping his arm tightly. “You vowed you wouldn’t hurt him if I did as you asked!”

Alrik looked down at her in furious regard, his breathing ragged. Consumed by his berserker rage, his earlier promise might now mean nothing.

His jaw twitched as he obviously struggled for control. “Yes,” he rasped. “I did vow not to kill my brother. But Gunnar Klaufason made no such vow.”

Alrik gave a terse nod to Gunnar, and Selia screamed as the man rushed toward Ulfrik with his sword raised. Alrik held her tightly, his hands around her upper arms, and she was powerless to do anything but watch in horror as Gunnar lunged.

Ulfrik jumped to the side just in time, and Gunnar staggered dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. His face held a murderous rage as he turned back toward Ulfrik. Instead of edging from the cliff, Ulfrik stepped a bit closer; much too close for safety.

He means to push Gunnar over the side
. Selia’s heart pounded as Gunnar swung the blade again, missing Ulfrik by a hairsbreadth. Bellowing in fury, Gunnar charged once more. Ulfrik stepped aside, again just in time, as Gunnar skidded to a halt to avoid careening over the edge.

But the spot Ulfrik now stood upon was unstable. Selia watched in horror as the earth crumbled and gave way just enough for him to lose his balance. He teetered, arms flailing. She screamed, fighting to rush forward to help, but Alrik firmly held her back.

Time seemed to halt as Ulfrik met her gaze with a panicked look upon his face. She saw an apology there, as though he sensed he had failed her.

Ulfrik tried to grasp for the tip of the sword Gunnar extended. But Gunnar instead jabbed him hard in the chest with its blunt tip.

A startled expulsion of air came from Ulfrik’s mouth as he careened backward over the edge of the cliff.