Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (10 page)

No, not here
. . .
not in front of Alrik.

The cup she’d been holding fell from her numb fingers as she rose to her feet. Its contents pooled on the edge of the table, then spilled onto the floor in a slow, steady drip. She blinked, struggling to focus on the puddle of ale.

"I've had too much to drink—I need to lie down," she mumbled.

Alrik stared at her in confusion.

Wasn’t she supposed to speak a different language when conversing with him?

Hurry—

There was another flapping, much closer this time. A putrid odor rose in the wake of that hushed, gentle whisper of sound—

Hide—

She stumbled through the tables of drunken men until she found herself in a little room. As she tried to close the door behind her, an arm shot through the crack and a man pushed his way in, yelling at her in a strange language.

Recognizing him, she opened her mouth to warn her brother, but nothing came out except a shrill scream.

She was trapped with the bad man.

Chapter 13

Selia's scream brought Ulfrik running, the chilling cry, clear and sharp; the sound a woman made as she was run through. One scream and then silence.

Why hadn't he done something before now? He was a fool to think his brother could be trusted with her, a fool to believe a ridiculous delusion about Odin could prevent the inevitable from happening.

He burst into the room, fully expecting to find Selia's body on the floor. He stopped short as he saw her-very much alive-standing in the middle of the room with Alrik. She stared blankly ahead of her as a blind person might. Although her mouth was moving, all Ulfrik could hear was a mumbling, incoherent whisper. Her restless hands picked at her gown, and Alrik grabbed them to hold them still.

“Selia!” He called her name in the stern voice he used when giving orders, yet she remained unresponsive.

Ulfrik sheathed his sword. He hadn't remembered drawing it-what had he been planning to do, kill his brother? "What's wrong with her?"

Alrik's face was hard as he turned in accusation. "You told her, didn't you?"

"What? Of course not—"

"She
knows,
Ulfrik. The way she looked at me . . ."

"If she knows, it's not because I told her. She's clever enough to have figured it out for herself."

Selia’s mumbling intensified and Ulfrik took a step closer to listen. He drew back and shook his head at his brother. "She's not speaking Irish."

A look of fear crossed Alrik’s face. Ulfrik knew from experience that fear made his brother angry. Alrik shook her, hard. "
Selia, stop it
. Stop it right now."

Her head wobbled dangerously, and Ulfrik pushed between them to tug her unresisting body away. "You're going to snap her neck, shaking her like that." He sat her down on the edge of the bed.

She stayed there, continuing to mumble and pick at her dress. Suddenly she ducked, crying out in her strange language.

Alrik gaped, then narrowed his eyes at his wife. "Maybe it's some sort of magic. One of Gudrun's girls could be a cunning-woman."

Magic? Evidently such an excuse was easier for Alrik to believe than the cold truth, that his wife had discovered who he was and slipped into madness as a result.

"Perhaps," Ulfrik replied.

"Or they could have poisoned her. Gudrun said Helga wasn't pleased I married—"

Both men spun as Selia suddenly leapt to her feet. Her faraway eyes had regained their focus, and she stared at them as a startled child might when caught in some forbidden act. A deep flush rose to her cheeks as she lowered her gaze.

The expression on her face was not what Ulfrik would expect—yes, he spotted fear, but more than that was embarrassment. Shame.

This had nothing to do with Selia finding out who Alrik was.

Selia took a step backward as they watched her. No.
N
o.
Had they both witnessed her humiliation? Had anyone else seen; any of the men, or Gudrun? Alrik regarded her with such confusion, such doubt. She couldn't even bring herself to look at Ulfrik and his mind-reading gaze.

"I . . . I'm sorry," she whispered. She stared at the floor, but both men were quiet for so long that she finally looked up.

"You're sorry?" Alrik appeared even more uncertain.

"I did not want you to know . . . I thought you would hate me."

Ulfrik studied her. "This has happened before?"

Her lip quivered as she nodded. The last time had been two days before she had gone to Dubhlinn. She knew it was the only reason Eithne had even considered sending her to the market alone, since there was typically a good span of time between one spell and the next.

"My father said . . ." she began, but trailed off with a shake of her head. Her mind was always a bit sluggish afterward, and now the Norse words eluded her. She continued in Irish. "He said that any suitor needed to know about my spells before he married me . . . because some people think it's a mark of the devil."

She swallowed as she looked at Ulfrik, but his face was impossible to read. What did he think of her? Would he be able to stop Alrik if he snapped? Would he even try?

Ulfrik hesitated for quite some time before he translated for his brother. He stumbled on the translation of 'devil,' finally deciding on 'dark magic.' Alrik blinked and sat on the edge of the table. He wouldn't even look at her.

When his brother said nothing, Ulfrik turned back to Selia and spoke to her in Irish. "How long has this been happening?"

"I don't know . . . always."

"Before Niall?"

She drew her breath in. As far as she knew, Alrik knew nothing concerning Niall's adoption of her. Unless Ulfrik had told him.

"Perhaps. I don't remember."

"That language you were speaking—is it what you and your brother made up?"

Selia nodded.

"What were you saying?"

"Ainnileas said it is gibberish. I mostly speak of birds. I never remember any of it."

"Birds." He drew his brows together.

Birds that peck people's eyes out.
She shivered. Ainnileas had told her that detail only once, but she had been so disturbed by it, she couldn't sleep for days. After that her brother had kept quiet about what she said during her spells.

Ulfrik appeared to be deep in thought. "And the staring you do, is that a part of this as well?"

So he
had
noticed. Most people didn’t. If they did, they simply assumed she was daydreaming. Selia had no warning of the staring spells before they came over her, and so had no way to hide them. Thankfully they only lasted a few seconds.

Her other spells—the ‘bird spells,’ she had named them—although more severe, could be felt coming on. As soon as she sensed the birds, she knew she had but a few short moments to hide from any unsympathetic eyes.

She nodded. "I just . . . fade away. It's as though I go to sleep but my body is still awake."

Ulfrik translated everything for his brother. He left out the reference to Niall, and Alrik didn't appear to pick up on it. Selia watched her husband carefully. His eyes flickered a bit as he listened, and she saw the muscle in his jaw clench.

Ulfrik stepped in between her and Alrik as though preparing for the inevitable outburst of temper. At least he would try to protect her.

Alrik stood. "Leave us."

When Ulfrik didn’t move immediately, Alrik crossed the room to open the door. His face was stony. "Leave."

Ulfrik met Selia's gaze as he walked past his brother and through the doorway, shutting it behind him. Was he waiting just outside, or had he gone back to the feast? Her one ally.

Or was he?

She turned back to her husband, who had begun to pace back and forth in the small room. The shadowy hole was growing. Soon it would pull her in.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"You should have told me, Selia. A man has a right to know if his wife is under a spell of dark magic."

"I was afraid to tell you."

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? What if my men saw that—they would think I married a witch! And we're going home tomorrow. What am I supposed to do with you?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "I do not know how to stop it, Alrik. I do not want
to be like this." She took in a trembling breath. "I hate it . . . I
hate
it. If I could cut it out of me, I would."

He stopped pacing and looked at her for a long moment. Alrik didn’t possess his brother’s inscrutability, and Selia could read his face. Fear, suspicion, and anger played across his features. But perhaps a flicker of understanding as well? He too had something inside of him that was out of his control.

Silently Alrik rifled through the leather pouch attached to his belt, and pulled out a small object. "Here." He held out his hand to her. "Perhaps this will stop it."

She cupped her palm and he dropped the ring into it, pulling his fingers away quickly as though he feared the witchcraft would infect him if he touched her. Selia cringed. "Alrik . . ." she whispered.

"Put it on," he ordered, "and leave it on."

As she slipped it on her finger, she noticed strange carvings in the metal, all the way around the ring. "What does
this mean?" She squinted down at the tiny markings.

"They're runes. For protection."

She blinked, not understanding. He must have collected the ring earlier that afternoon when he left her at the ship to go back to the market. But if that were true, how would he have known then she would need protection from the spells?

"Protection from what?" she asked. Perhaps she had misunderstood the word.

"Protection from me, Selia. Sometimes, when I get angry—” He shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you. And perhaps it will protect you from . . .
that
, as well." He gestured as if to indicate the aura of malevolence surrounding her.

She shivered at the necessity of needing protection from the rages of her own husband. But she was oddly pleased with the ring, as well as the thought he had put into it. He must still care for her, even after discovering her darkest secret.

She looked up at him with a cautious smile, but his scowl only deepened. Selia dropped her gaze. "You think it will make—”she paused, searching for the words he had used earlier“—the dark magic go away?"

"I don't know."

"Thank you," she whispered, and rubbed her finger over the small band of silver that could prove to be her deliverance.

Selia awoke before dawn. The tiny window had been left open, and she was cold. Alrik hadn’t thrown his warm body over hers as usual. Instead, he lay next to her in the narrow bed, but as far away as possible. One of his shoulders hung over the edge of the mattress, and it would only take a strong shove to push him onto the floor.

She sat up, gazing at him in the dim light. She enjoyed watching Alrik sleep; with his face relaxed he looked so peaceful, almost angelic. His mouth was soft now, the lips full and sensuous, and she was overcome with an urge to kiss him.

She cared about this man more than she wanted to. Their marital compatibility had taken her by surprise, and Selia didn't attempt to fight her desire for him any longer. She suspected other women had been afraid of the intensity of his needs, and Alrik had assumed she would be as well. But her fear played into her hunger for him in a way that defied explanation. She had learned to simply accept it as part of her new life with Alrik.

She had done her best to separate her lust for her husband from her general wariness of him. Moreover, her status with the Finngall war band still seemed uncertain, as her marriage to their leader had not gone over well with the majority. Alrik was very intent on maintaining the esteem of his men.

What would they do if they learned her secret? Her father and Eithne had been so concerned about how others would react to her strange spells that they had kept her secluded at home as much as possible. She didn't understand enough about Finngall society to know if they would feel the same way. But judging by Alrik's reaction last night, the fear of her spells might be shared by all.

And now here she was, in a foreign land, married to a foreigner who knew something about her that could potentially get her killed. Alrik was not the kind of man who might simply send her back to her family. No, he would be much more apt to wring her neck and throw her overboard. Or, if he wanted to regain some of the bride price he had paid for her, to sell her into slavery.

And while Ulfrik had seemed somewhat more sympathetic to Selia's situation, he had already proven himself unwilling-or unable-to stand up to his brother. She had let herself become too complacent with these Finngalls. Whether she liked it or not, Alrik was the only thing standing between her and a violent death.

She would do well to remember that.