Oath Breaker (Sons of Odin Book 3) (17 page)

What would she do now when she learned Selia’s news? Eithne had warmed up to Ulfrik since Deirdre’s birth, thankfully. It had been done in a very unhurried, methodical manner, and only Selia seemed able to see how Ulfrik accomplished his slow wooing of her former nursemaid.

Out of all of them, Eithne was the first to be presented with a real mattress for her bed, not a thin pallet. She always got the choicest cuts of meat whenever the snares yielded enough for roasting, rather than stew. Ulfrik had numerous questions about the finer points of Christianity, and came to Eithne first for the answers, even though she insisted Father Oengul would be a better choice. And whenever a decision needed to be made about anything, large or small, Ulfrik listened carefully to Eithne’s input.

Ulfrik’s dutiful manner toward the woman solidified her place in the family as a revered mother-in-law, not a servant. Selia had been amazed at how Eithne’s heart slowly thawed toward the handsome, heathen Finngall. A Finngall who was, in her mind, Christian in name only, and who’d knowingly led Selia into a life of sin.

Even for Ulfrik the Devious, a man more skilled at influencing the regard of others than any she’d ever known, this was a feat Selia had deemed near impossible. And yet he’d done it.

But knowing Selia carried his child might change things drastically. She didn’t want to risk destroying the tenuous affinity Ulfrik had forged with Eithne.

“I’m happy to say a blessing over you, Selia. To help with the nightmares.”

Pulling her wandering mind back to attention, Selia met Father Oengul’s gaze, and reminded herself of the real reason she’d come here.

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping well either, Father,” Selia said gently.

His mouth pressed together in a thin line. “It is of no concern.”

“I can make a tea that will help you sleep.” At the priest’s lack of response, she pressed on. “I can bring it to you. Or you could sup with us tonight and get it then. Catrin would love to see you.”

Father Oengul rose to deliver the blessing. “I will consider it.”

Chapter 28

Selia took her time walking back from Oengul’s tower. It wasn’t often she got a reprieve from Deirdre. She trusted Bahati completely and knew her daughter would be content for a while longer.

She walked to the orchard at the top of the bluff, standing under the cool, leafy stillness of the branches for a moment. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the fragrant scent of salt air and green foliage. Then knelt next to three tiny graves, a bit apart from the graves of the murdered priests. Ingrid’s stillborn children lay there. Selia placed her hand on the small mound of rocks, each in turn, saying a prayer for the souls of her dead nephews.

Ingrid seemed to be afflicted with the same curse as her aunt Hrefna. After her firstborn, no other children had been able to thrive in her womb long enough to be born healthy.

Sprung from a Christian father and a heathen mother, the three stillbirths had triggered a confusing, bitter argument between the parents, one that was still ongoing. Ainnileas had wanted Oengul to baptize the dead children, but Ingrid had flatly refused.

Unwilling to chance another stillbirth, Ingrid had recently begun taking the same tea as Selia. Ainnileas was furious with her for refusing to try again. They were at an impasse now, barely speaking. And with Ainnileas preparing to set sail, Selia knew the coming summer with Ingrid would be a long one. The news of another babe in Selia’s belly would not go over well with her former stepdaughter.

Selia finished her prayer, then rose to brush the dirt from her hands. As she departed the walls of the orchard, a flapping sail caught her eye, far out on the sea. She stared, holding her breath.

A ship was sailing toward the island from the direction of the Irish coast.

Dizzy with fear, Selia prepared to run back to the house to warn the others, but something about the ship made her pause. She shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting through the blinding morning sun. She stood for several heartbeats, praying her eyes didn’t deceive her. Only yesterday Ainnileas had left for Dubhlinn to make his final preparations with his men. He wasn’t expected to return to the island to say his goodbyes for several more days yet.

But now, it seemed Ainnileas’ ship approached. Her belly lurched with anxiety at the thought of why her brother had sailed home almost immediately after arriving in Ireland.

Selia hastened to find Ulfrik, and together they met Ainnileas’ ship at the beach. His men dropped anchor to keep the vessel from grounding, then lowered Ainnileas in the little boat. He rowed to shore and Ulfrik splashed out to haul it in.

Fraught with worry, Selia stared at her brother. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night. The hollow expression in Ainnileas’ eyes told her something was very wrong.

She went to him with a furrowed brow. “What has happened?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“Our mother is dying, Selia. She’s asked for you.”

Selia gasped. Of all the horrible reasons Ainnileas could have hastened to return home,
this
particular one hadn’t crossed her mind.

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then opened again. “Why? Grainne hates me.”

As Ainnileas’ face darkened, Selia realized too late she should have inquired about their mother first before demanding to know what Grainne wanted with her. A polite daughter would have asked what ailed the woman.

But then, Grainne
had
called her the spawn of the devil, just before threatening to kill her. Perhaps politeness was no longer necessary.

“What is wrong with her?” Selia asked.

“A wasting sickness. She’s been ill for some time but hadn’t told anyone, not even Osgar. She took to her bed a fortnight ago. He said she’s been waiting for me to return, and knew I would come to see her before I sailed.” Ainnileas drew a steadying breath, his face now plagued with guilt. “And to think I considered not visiting her this time.”

Selia hugged her brother, feeling his sadness and self-reproach as if it were her own. He’d been through so much, with the deaths of three babes and the ongoing quarrels with Ingrid. And now this. “I’m sorry, Ainnileas. I know how you care for her.”

He nodded, drawing away. “I’ve come to fetch you. She was very insistent on seeing you before she dies.” Ainnileas turned to Ulfrik. “And you as well.”

Selia felt her jaw drop for the second time.
Ulfrik?
What on earth could the woman want with Ulfrik?

Oh
. A sickening fear gripped her insides. Selia knew exactly what Grainne was after—she wanted to make amends before she died. She wanted to confess her sins in order to die with her soul cleansed, in anticipation of reuniting with her long-dead husband. And the worst sin she’d committed involved Ulfrik’s first wife and unborn child.

Ulfrik didn’t try to mask the surprise on his face. Selia glanced at him, then quickly away, as she imagined how his face would look when he realized she’d been hiding the ugly secret of the poisoned ale. The urge to vomit was strong, and Selia took shallow breaths to steady herself.

“What if this is a trick?” she asked in a wavering voice.

“A trick? How can a woman on her deathbed be capable of a trick?”

Ulfrik also seemed to be awaiting her answer. Selia swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Ainnileas. I do not trust her. I don’t want to go.”

Her brother stared at her, his expression deeply offended.

“I’ve never left Deirdre before,” Selia asserted. “And I don’t trust Grainne around any of my children.”

Ainnileas pressed his lips together in anger, his judgmental silence eating away at her. He’d sailed throughout the night in order to fetch her before Grainne died, and now she selfishly refused to go with him. His disappointment hit her like a physical slap, although he neither moved nor spoke.

Selia knew her brother; there was no way to satisfy him other than giving him what he wanted.

“Very well,” she sighed impatiently. “I will go with you. But I think it’s dangerous for Ulfrik to go. We could run into Gunnar or his men.” She turned to address Ulfrik. “If I keep my hood up I won’t be recognized. You are too hard to hide.”

Ulfrik was already shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. If you go, I’m going with you.”

Ainnileas straightened as if everything were settled, clasping Ulfrik’s shoulder. “If we leave immediately we can be there before nightfall.”

Wait
. Selia’s mind churned. This was all going from bad to worse. She needed more time. “Why don’t we depart in the morning? I need time to prepare Deirdre and the boys.”

Ainnileas shot her a withering look. “Our mother is dying, Selia. As we speak. For all I know it may already be too late.”

Even manned by a skeleton crew, Ainnileas’ ship ploughed quickly through the water on its way back to Ireland. Selia gripped the rail with one hand and clutched Deirdre to her with the other. Given no time to express any milk to feed the child while she was gone, she’d had little choice but to bring her along. Deirdre could drink from a cup well enough but hated the taste of sheep’s milk, and was as likely to fling the contents at someone’s head as she was to pour it onto the ground.

Her daughter was a stubborn child, with a set of healthy lungs capable of screaming for hours. Selia didn’t want to subject Bahati and Eithne to that kind of torture. So, the plan had quickly changed from leaving Deirdre behind, to bringing Bahati along to keep the little girl occupied while Selia spoke with Grainne.

She wouldn’t suffer her child to be in the same room with the woman. Deathbed or no, Selia didn’t trust her.

Bahati stood next to her, looking anxious and unwell as she also gripped the rail. Selia knew she’d never been away from Catrin. And the last time Bahati had been on the water it had been as a slave to a ship of Finngall pirates who had raped her. That dragonship had been battered to splinters in a storm, and poor Bahati had barely survived.

Selia placed her hand over her friend’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

Bahati’s small, tight smile looked more like a grimace. “Have you told the Northman yet?”

“No.”

Bahati studied her. “Because you hope your mother might be dead when you arrive?”

“Yes,” Selia answered miserably.

She must confess to Ulfrik the secret that had eaten away at her for years, that her own mother had killed his first wife and unborn child with a poisoned cask of ale. She would rather he hear it from her than from Grainne. But the news could very well cause a permanent rift between them. They could become as Ainnileas and Ingrid, barely speaking. Why put either of them through this only to find the woman was dead when they arrived in Baile Atha Cliath?

The thought of losing Ulfrik racked her body with an overwhelming wave of nausea. Closing her eyes, she gripped Deirdre tighter to her.

“Do not get sick on the child,” she heard Bahati say urgently.

Tingling heat rushed to Selia’s cheeks, and she knew it was too late. “Take her, Bahati!” she urged. The woman snatched Deirdre from her arms just in time, as Selia retched violently over the side.

Empty and exhausted, with Deirdre’s squealing protests ringing in her ears, Selia leaned her forehead on her arms to rest. She took several deep breaths to steady herself, then felt a familiar, large hand on her back.

“Are you all right?” Ulfrik asked quietly.

Selia stiffened. Now would be the time to tell him. She could have Bahati carry Deirdre to the other side of the ship so they could have a private conversation.

She straightened, looking up at Ulfrik. His eyes were concerned, so kind and gentle. She loved him with an intensity that stole her breath, a love that had only grown deeper with time. Losing him would feel like death itself.

I’m unworthy of such a good man
. Tears pricked at her eyes as her conscience racked with guilt. He deserved to know the truth, no matter what. Whether or not they arrived to find Grainne already dead.

But Deirdre’s cries escalated to screams as she struggled in Bahati’s grasp, legs and arms flailing. Selia knew the child was tired and wanted to nurse. There would be no conversation with Ulfrik at this particular moment.

Selia forced a smile. “I am fine.” His gaze only became more intense and she had to look away, taking Deirdre from Bahati. The child immediately quieted. She could still feel Ulfrik’s eyes on her as she turned her back on the ship of sailors to nurse her daughter.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at Baile Átha Cliath. The ship pulled up to the dock, old wood creaking as the sailors tied it off. Selia’s belly lurched anew, and she felt a sheen of sweat on her face. The soft evening breeze did nothing to cool her.

Ulfrik approached again. His devotion to her only increased the bitter guilt churning inside, and she fought back tears.

“Selia,” he said gently. “Tell me what troubles you.”

Perceptive as always, he obviously knew her distress wasn’t regarding her mother’s impending death. She met his concerned gaze.

“Ulfrik,” she began. Selia shifted the sleeping Deirdre to her other arm. The child murmured in protest, then snuggled into Selia’s shoulder. “I must—”

Ainnileas interrupted. “Hurry. We might not have much time.” He took Selia’s elbow and steered her toward the dock and the waiting wagon. Ulfrik and Bahati followed.

There was no private space to have a conversation in the wagon, either. Selia sat, silent and miserable, with her hood pulled tight around her face, as the wagon bumped over the road. Bahati pressed close in solidarity, as though protecting her. Ulfrik rode up front with Ainnileas.

They rode in Niall’s old wagon, the one with the slight irregularity in the wheel, and each bump was a hammer strike to her heart. The final blow would come when Ulfrik learned the awful secret she’d been keeping from him.

Selia could only pray they would arrive to find Grainne already dead.