Oath Breaker (Sons of Odin Book 3) (24 page)

Chapter 38

“Selia,” a voice called through the shadows. Her wrist throbbed with pain. Surrounded by warmth, she heard a sound in her ear, a heartbeat, steady and familiar.

She jerked to her senses.
Ulfrik.

Her eyes flew open, meeting the gaze of the man she never thought she’d see again. She touched his face with her good hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, proving to herself that he was indeed alive and not a figment of her imagination. The heartbreaking beauty of his smile made her breath catch in her throat. Selia threw her arm around his neck and sobbed.

He held her for a long time, his voice soothing as he comforted her. Selia clung to him, whispering his name like a prayer, over and over. Ulfrik’s life had been spared.

Selia’s throat hurt to speak yet she could not stop herself. “I love you Ulfrik,” she rasped, coughing at the effort. “I love you.”

“Don’t try to speak—”

“I love you, Ulfrik Ragnarson,” she insisted hoarsely. “Nothing I said that day was true. Alrik made me say it so he wouldn’t kill you.”

“I know, Selia.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His kissed her forehead as she released a shuddering sigh. “I knew it as soon as you spoke. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

Selia’s laugh turned into another cough as she held him tightly. Then she pulled back to look at Ulfrik again. “How are the children? I’ve missed them so.”

“They are well. Healthy and strong. Bahati and Eithne have taken good care of them.”

Choking on another sob, Selia pictured their faces in her mind. How her heart ached for them. She would hold them both and never let go.

“And Eydis and Ingrid?”

“Safe. They escaped Gunnar shortly after he took them away.”

She nodded with relief. The babe in her belly fluttered, and Selia stilled. She reached for Ulfrik’s hand and placed it over the small mound of her womb.

“Your child grows inside me, Ulfrik. I thought it was all I had left of you. And now you’ve been returned to me.”

Speechless, Ulfrik looked from Selia’s face to her belly, and back. “My child?”

“Your child.”

He pulled her to him again, overcome, and Selia settled into the crook of his arm. Listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing, she sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens for sparing the life of the best man she’d ever known.

Selia’s senses slowly took in her surroundings. She sat up to see Alrik lying lifelessly across the room.
Dead.

Ulfrik helped her rise and they walked over to the body. Alrik’s face, normally tight with anger, had relaxed in death and now looked as peaceful as she’d ever seen it.

She studied him, her eyes focused on the blood that covered his abdomen and hands. Her own hand was bloody as well, her ring caked with it. She fumbled to remove it but her other hand hurt too badly to grasp it.

“Take it off,” she implored.

Ulfrik didn’t move immediately. “That ring may well have saved your life.”

Selia shook her head. “Take it off.”

As Ulfrik complied, Selia noticed again his right arm didn’t move at all, but hung at his side as if it didn’t even belong to him. He pulled the ring from her finger and handed it to her.

“Your arm, Ulfrik . . .”

“It is all right. It will heal.”

Selia’s brows drew together as she looked at the bloody body next to them, then back to Ulfrik. “How did you slay Alrik?”

Ulfrik looked surprised. “I didn’t.”

It was then that Selia saw Faolan, sitting quietly in the shadows. “Faolan,” she beckoned.

He walked to them slowly, eyes downcast. His hands and tunic were covered in blood. Selia swallowed as realization dawned on her.

“Oh, Faolan,” she whispered, her heart breaking for her son as she pulled him close. Faolan burrowed his face into her neck.

She drew away to look at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Faolan, you did nothing wrong,” she insisted. “He would have killed me otherwise. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

At Faolan’s silence, Ulfrik spoke quietly. “You saved your mother’s life, Faolan.”

Faolan did look up then to stare at Ulfrik. His eyes looked haunted.

The bright sun was blinding as they exited the house. They walked slowly, hampered by Ulfrik’s leg. Ainnileas approached, as well as his right hand man Ruadhri, both holding daggers at the ready. Ainnileas sheathed his weapon and ran toward them.

He enveloped her in a hug. “Selia,” he breathed. She drew back to protect her broken wrist, and Ainnileas’ eyes narrowed dangerously as he focused on her injuries. Over her head, he spoke to Ulfrik. “Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

Selia’s gaze fixed on the ship in the distance. She saw no other sailors standing on its deck. Confused, she looked from Ainnileas to Ulfrik. “You came alone?”

Ulfrik nodded. “Geirr wanted to come.” He motioned to his damaged arm before continuing. “But I wasn’t sure of my ability to best my brother. So I made him stay behind.”

Selia fought back sudden tears. Ulfrik, Ainnileas, and Ruadhri had come after her, knowing they faced almost certain death if Alrik was healthy enough to fight. And even if he wasn’t, vengeance from Alrik’s men. Speechless and overcome with emotion, Selia had started to wipe her eyes, when she spotted a rider on the horizon.

“Ulfrik,” she warned, and he turned to squint into the sun.

“It is Bolli,” he said after a moment. He looked at Faolan behind him. “Take your tunic off, quickly.”

One of the thralls must have ridden to warn Bolli when they saw the Irish ship on the water. Fear gripped Selia’s belly. Faolan had killed the Hersir. No matter if it was to save her life; Bolli’s duty would call for retribution. Selia pulled Faolan toward her, using her good hand to rip the tunic over his head. She dropped the bloody garment on the ground and stepped over it, hiding it with her skirts. Ulfrik handed the boy his cloak and bade him tie it tightly.

Bolli rode up, slowing as he took in the bedraggled group before him. Behind him, Selia saw the majority of the thralls standing outside near the slave quarters. The news of Alrik’s death would spread quickly, and they would want to know what would befall them all now.

Suddenly, a female broke from the group, running toward the house. Selia recognized the sobbing girl as Tofa, the thrall Alrik had been bedding. She hurried inside, and her screams could be heard a moment later.

“Alrik is dead,” Ulfrik said to Bolli. “I killed him.”

Selia gasped, staring up at Ulfrik. “No,” she insisted. “Ulfrik is protecting me.
I
did it.”

Bolli looked back and forth from Ulfrik to Selia.

“They are both lying.” Faolan spoke quietly from where he stood behind Selia. He opened the cloak to reveal his bare chest. “I did it. They made me take my bloody shirt off.”

Wrist bound and tied to her body with a sling, Selia entered the house a final time. The interior was dark, the hearth coals cold. The sharp smell of blood in the air turned her stomach.

After a heated discussion with Bolli about what had transpired, he had agreed that Alrik succumbed to the madness of his father. Vengeance would not be required for his killing. But Ulfrik and Ainnileas thought it best that they leave as quickly as possible, before any of the other men showed up and required additional proof. Bolli was not Hersir yet, and they might not agree with his decision.

Alrik’s body still lay where he’d fallen, but laid out flat instead of curled on his side. Someone had washed him, covered him with a blanket, and placed a pillow under his head.

Selia stared at Alrik for a long time. She’d loved him once, the intense first love of a girl swept away by a man who’d burned brighter than the sun. For so many years she’d first dreaded his death, and then had felt nothing. Now it had come to pass.

Alrik had been damaged beyond repair years before she met him. She’d spent far too long trying to help him; trying to save him from himself. Selia had failed. But she would not fail her son. She would give Faolan what he needed to ensure he didn’t turn out like his father.

She knelt beside Alrik, watching carefully, half expecting him to draw breath. His face looked so peaceful, it seemed he was only sleeping. Selia touched his hand, found it cold, and pulled away.

“Alrik.” Although she spoke quietly, her voice echoed in the room. “Bolli has agreed to give you the funeral deserving of a Hersir. You will not have a thrall’s grave like Ragnarr. I thought you would want to know that.”

She paused, watching his still, pale face. Selia wanted him to be at peace, to no longer be at the mercy of the beast which had raged within him. But Vikingers were concerned with glory, not peace. Would the pomp surrounding his burial please Odin?

Selia sighed. It was not her concern any longer. Alrik Ragnarson was not her responsibility. She had been granted a second chance at love with Ulfrik, a good and honorable man; a man who now waited for her outside. She rose to her feet. “I wish you safe journey to Valhalla, Alrik Blood Axe.”

A muffled sob arose from somewhere behind her, and Selia jumped. She thought herself alone in the room. The noise came from the bench Alrik had slept upon. Drawing back the curtain, she saw the huddled figure of Tofa, with her face buried in Alrik’s bedding.

“Tofa,” Selia said. “We are leaving. The other thralls are coming with us. You are free to come as well. We will have your collar removed in Ireland and you can go where you please.”

Tofa gazed up at Selia with red rimmed eyes. “I am nothing without him,” she whispered.

Despite herself, Selia’s heart contracted for the girl. How well she remembered the inexplicable pull of Alrik Ragnarson. “He is dead, Tofa. And you are not. Make your decision quickly, as we will leave soon.”

Selia turned to go, but Tofa laid a hand on her arm to stop her. “You said Bolli Ketilson will give him a proper funeral?”

“Yes. He promised to.”

The slave drew in a shuddering breath. “Then I will offer myself as sacrifice. Master Alrik will need someone to care for him.”

Selia stilled, staring at the girl. Alrik’s funeral would necessitate his horse to be killed, a senseless enough sacrifice for such a magnificent animal. But she had insisted to Bolli that none of Alrik’s slaves would be sacrificed. She hadn’t anticipated one of them offering herself for the duty.

She gripped the thrall’s shoulder with her good hand and gave her a stern shake. “Tofa. I am the mistress of this household and I order you to come with us.”

Tofa’s eyes welled with fresh tears, and she averted her gaze. “Can I say goodbye to him, Mistress? It will only take a moment.”

Selia narrowed her eyes at the girl. It was an innocent enough request. Yet somehow, she was certain Tofa meant to end her own life as soon as she was alone with Alrik. “No,” she said. “I will not allow you to harm yourself over him. Go to the ship, now.”

Tofa ran out the front door, sobbing. Selia turned for one last look at the body lying on the floor, then followed the girl outside to where Ulfrik waited. Her love.

Her future.

She closed the door to the longhouse and stood with her back to it, breathing deeply. No more blood would be shed in the name of Alrik Ragnarson. The curse of Ragnarr had been broken.

Ulfrik hobbled toward her. He had once asserted that not even death itself could quell his devotion to Selia. He’d come as close to death as possible, his body battered and broken, yet had fought to return to her.

She hastened to him and pressed her face into his chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart through his shirt. She nestled close, breathing in his warm scent, and whispered a prayer of thanks to the heavens that his life had been spared.

“I love you, Ulfrik.”

“I love you too, Selia.” He placed a kiss atop her head as he pulled her closer. “More than you will ever know. We will never be parted again.”

He cupped her cheek tenderly. “This is my vow.”

Also by
Erin S. Riley
and
Soul Mate Publishing

ODIN’S SHADOW

BOOK ONE OF THE SONS OF ODIN SERIES

Obsession. Treachery. Revenge. Redemption. Certain themes resonate across the centuries.
 

In ninth-century Ireland, Selia is a girl on the verge of womanhood, frustrated by the confines of her gender and resentful of the freedom her brother boasts of. Intelligent and resourceful in a time when neither is valued in a female, she longs for an escape from her sheltered existence. Fascinated by the tales of Viking raids told by her maidservant, Selia’s hunger for independence is fed through the stories of heathen ferocity she hears at the woman’s knee.

A decision to sneak to the city’s harbor to view the Viking longships leads to an encounter with Alrik Ragnarson, a charismatic Viking warlord whose outward beauty masks a dark and tortured mind. With the knowledge that her father is about to announce her betrothal to a man she doesn’t love, Selia marries Alrik and within a day is on the longship bound for Norway and a new life.

While Selia’s relationship with her new husband grows, her friendship with his brother Ulfrik grows as well. And as Alrik’s character flaws come to light and tension mounts between the two brothers, Selia begins to have misgivings about her hasty marriage . . . especially when a secret from the past is revealed, one that threatens to destroy them all.
 

Available now on Amazon:

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A FLAME PUT OUT

Selia’s saga continues in Book Two of the SONS OF ODIN series . . .

As Selia struggles with the harsh reality of existence as the wife of a Viking berserker, a devastating loss pulls Alrik deeper into madness, while a secret Selia desperately wants to keep hidden comes to light, threatening everything she holds dear.

Is Selia’s love for Alrik enough to keep her in Norway? Or will the protection offered by Alrik’s brother Ulfrik sway her to leave?

Available now on Amazon:

http://tinyurl.com/p8lrpde