Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (31 page)

Chapter 1

Norway, 876 AD

Selia awoke to the faint, melancholy strain of a bird chirping. The silk bedding was soft against her cheek, and Alrik’s familiar body was warm and solid behind her. She nestled closer, loath to open her eyes. All would be right with the world if she could just stay here, with her husband’s arm covering her like a shield, the past events nothing more than an unpleasant dream.

Or for that matter, the events of yesterday.

Alrik’s fingers grazed her arm, pausing near her shoulder. “Did I do this to you last night?”

She lifted her arm to look. There was a faint bruise, an outline of fingers and thumb from where Ulfrik had grabbed her in the heat of their argument. It stood out against the white of her skin like a brand, proof of her would-be sin for the entire world to see.

Out of her mind with misery, she had nearly succumbed to Ulfrik’s persuasion. Her husband’s brother knew how to play upon her fragile emotions, attempting to maneuver her as carefully as he would the pieces on a tafl board. Though she had spurned him, still she had come uncomfortably close to allowing him liberties.

Selia would carry that secret to her grave.

Now she simply answered, “Yes.”

Alrik swallowed, visibly distressed. “You haven’t been back a day and I’ve already hurt you.”

“It is all right.” She snuggled up to his chest. “You know how easily I bruise. And it was worth it.”

He laughed, such a wonderful sound. How she had missed it. “Well, be that as it may, I’ll have to be more careful now. For the sake of the child.” His hand cupped the swell of her abdomen as he smiled down at the life that grew inside her. His face was achingly beautiful despite the red-rimmed eyes and unkempt hair.

Selia caressed his cheek. “I love you, Alrik.” Her voice came out in a whisper.

His gaze met hers. “Even after all I have done to you.”

“Yes. I knew I should stop loving you. But I could not.”

He appeared to ponder this for a moment. “I have caused you so much pain. There is no way to make it right.” He shook his head. “You should have stayed away, Selia. I destroy everything I touch. You and the child would have been better off—”

“No,” she replied firmly. “I cannot be without you, Alrik.” She turned his chin to force him to look at her. “You cannot make me leave again.”

His smile made her heart flutter. As he bent to kiss her, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

“I hope you’re decent, because I’m coming in,” Hrefna called.

Alrik sat up. “Stay out of my bedroom, woman, or you’re going to see more than you bargained for,” he commanded in the booming voice he used when giving orders to his men.

But Hrefna entered anyway, grinning from ear to ear, and Selia pulled the blanket up just in time to cover her nudity. The woman ignored Alrik, rushing over instead to envelope Selia in a hug. She made a choked noise that was between a laugh and a sob. “I knew you would come back, child,” she vowed, “even though Alrik didn’t believe me.” She shot her nephew a gloating look, and he snorted at her.

Selia blinked back tears as she embraced Hrefna. This woman was more a mother to her than Grainne could ever hope to be. She had missed her terribly, nearly as much as she had missed Alrik.

Hrefna held her at arm’s length, her brow pinching together as she took in Selia’s appearance. “Have you been ill, dear? You look much too thin. I know I sent plenty of provisions with Olaf, and when Ketill stopped by yesterday morning he said he had supplies for your family as well.”

So Ketill had known the appalling state his Hersir was in, but had not thought to mention it to Selia. Obviously he had told Ulfrik, though. And Ulfrik had taken full advantage of the situation.

The thought of Ulfrik made Selia’s stomach tighten into a knot of fury. She willed her face to stay expressionless. “There was enough food,” she said. “I . . . I was ill, yes.” She drew the covers tight against her belly to show the rounded outline. “I am still with child.”

Hrefna reached out in wonder to touch her. “How can this be?”

“Because he is strong,” Alrik asserted. “My son is a warrior.”

“Humph,” Hrefna scoffed. “Warrior or not, your wife lost so much blood she nearly died herself. I can’t understand how the child still lives.”

Alrik scowled at her. “She has the protection of Odin. Is it so hard to imagine the child does too?”

Selia looked away in discomfort. This sounded a bit too much like Ragnarr’s delusions.

Hrefna seemed unnerved as she studied them both. “Well,” she said after a moment. “Let’s get some food into you then, Selia. It doesn’t appear Odin has been feeding you properly.”

Alrik’s frown deepened at his aunt’s sarcasm. She turned to him. “And you need a bath, my boy.” Hrefna wrinkled her nose in distaste. “It smells like a barn in here. You simply can’t go around pissing on the floor.”

Selia walked out the kitchen door, humming softly under her breath. She had eaten and bathed. Hrefna had spent more than an hour combing out the knots in her hair, then styling it for her. Selia felt pretty again. She looked the way the mistress of a household such as Alrik’s should look, and not like some undernourished thrall dressed in rags, with burrs in her hair.

She turned into the woods to look for her ring, plagued by the vague memory of throwing it at Alrik the day everything had gone so horribly wrong. The likelihood of finding the exact spot in the woods where the incident had occurred was slim, and of actually finding the ring even slimmer, but she still wanted to try. Was it soft sentiment that drove her to look for the band of silver, or the harder reality of knowing the runes would keep her safe?

After searching unsuccessfully for some time, she gave up—the ring was gone. Maybe Alrik could have another one made for her. She turned to go back to the house, but as she approached a large boulder she heard the sound of someone crying. She peeked around the other side. And recognized the pale, unkempt hair of Ingrid.

The girl had her head buried in her arms but was not doing a very good job of muffling her sobs. Selia hesitated. Ingrid would be furious if she knew anyone had seen her like this. And it wasn’t as though Selia could do anything to help her, even if she wanted to. The girl hated her with a passion.

She took a step backward to slip away, but the hem of her gown caught on a bush, rustling as she pulled it free. Ingrid’s head shot up. The look on her face changed from despair to rage as she met Selia’s eyes.

“You!” she shouted. “Get away from me, you Irish bitch!”

Selia’s eyes widened at her stepdaughter’s ire but didn’t return the insult. The girl had obviously loved Ainnileas and was hurting. Maybe just as much as Selia herself had hurt after losing Alrik. That kind of misery was punishment enough. She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Ingrid sniffled. Selia looked back at her. “Did he . . . did Ainnileas say anything about me?”

She studied Ingrid’s tearstained face, but didn’t answer immediately. Ainnileas had not spoken of the girl, not even once, but that meant nothing. For as long as Selia could remember, whenever her brother was upset about something he would withdraw. His typical lighthearted banter would be silenced for a time, then he would return to himself once he had worked through whatever was bothering him.

Ainnileas had been unnaturally reserved the entire time they had stayed at Ulfrik’s house. And Selia had been too caught up in her own sorrow to notice or care.

But Ingrid deserved an answer. “He was very sad,” Selia said slowly, “but he did not speak of why.”

Ingrid’s sudden laugh rose into hysteria. Selia gasped as the girl pounded her fist into her own stomach. She continued to hit herself until Selia knelt to grab her arm.

“Ingrid, stop.”

The girl pushed her backward. “Leave me alone!”

Selia stared as realization dawned on her. “Are you with child?” she whispered. She was sure the pair had lain together.

What would happen if Ingrid were with child?

And what would Alrik do to Ainnileas?