Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (19 page)

"No."

Why was he lying? The truth was plain for her to see. She sobbed, struggling as he tried to comfort her, and a shadow fell over them on the dock. Alrik. He held his helmet under his arm as he watched the siblings with an uncomfortable look on his face.

"What did you do, Alrik?" she cried. She jumped to her feet, shoving him with every ounce of strength she had. He didn't move, which enraged her all the more, and she hit him in the ribs. Selia's hand glanced off the metal of his mail shirt, scraping away a layer of skin from her knuckles. "Why did you have to kill him?"

Ainnileas wrapped his arms around her from behind in an attempt to restrain her. "Selia," he said firmly in her ear, "they did not kill Father."

She sniffled, looking from Alrik to Ulfrik, who was now standing behind him. In fact, she realized, they were all standing there; Olaf, Hrefna, and Ingrid. She turned from them, suddenly hating them and their very foreignness, and buried her face in her brother’s neck. "Then how did it happen?" she whispered.

He shook his head as if he were loath to remember it. "He was so angry when they took you. The one you scratched kept taunting Father, and laughing at him." Ainnileas' expression was hard. "And then, Father just fell over. His face turned purple and he couldn't speak. And then he was dead."

A small sob escaped Selia.
Dadai.
He had been forced to give his consent to his daughter's marriage to a wicked, dangerous heathen, and the pain and helpless fury he felt had killed him before the marriage had even been consummated. Alrik hadn't murdered him as he had the priest, but Niall was nevertheless a casualty of her Finngall husband.

She looked at Alrik, watching his face for signs of guilt, and saw none. Perhaps he was incapable of feeling genuine guilt or remorse. How practical for a warlord.

Selia wiped her tears on her sleeve before she spoke. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him quietly.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "To avoid
this
." He motioned to her and the scene she was making.

A bitter laugh escaped her. "Did you think I would not find out?"

Instead of answering her, Alrik confronted Ainnileas. "Why are you here, boy?"

Ainnileas hesitated. He understood more Norse than he spoke, so he wouldn't be able to answer the Finngall directly. "I needed to make sure you were all right," he said to Selia in Irish.

She translated for Alrik, although she refused to look at him.

His face grew dark as he glowered at Ainnileas. To his credit, her brother refused to be intimidated by the much larger man, and stood his ground with his arms crossed.

Alrik turned to Selia. "Tell your brother he is welcome to stay here for as long as he likes, but his ship must leave today." He scowled toward the ship full of Irishmen.

As Selia translated he added, "Tell him to forget whatever plan he had for stealing you away. You are my wife, and I will kill any man who attempts to take what is mine."

"Alrik!" she protested, but he cut her off.

"Tell him exactly what I said, Selia, or Ulfrik will do it."

Ainnileas flushed as she translated, and his jaw clenched so hard she could hear his teeth grinding. Alrik had been right, then-her brother did have some plan for her escape. What had he possibly been thinking?

"Tell this Finngall I will slaughter any man who leaves marks on my sister," he hissed in Irish, his eyes fixed on the thumbprint bruise still visible on Selia's collarbone.

She paled and glanced at Ulfrik, who was standing close enough to hear Ainnileas threaten to kill his brother. Ulfrik met her gaze but kept his face emotionless. The Hersir would not take such a threat lightly.

A cold sweat broke out over Selia's body as she gazed at Ainnileas. Although his body was growing from that of a boy into a man, he still looked like a frail child next to the huge Finngalls. Furthermore, he knew nothing of fighting. The only weapon her brother carried was a dagger at his hip, and she doubted he knew how to use it. His righteous anger would only serve to get him killed, but he was too pigheaded to realize it.

"Ainnileas." She spoke in a slow and careful tone, willing him to understand the gravity of the situation. "I don't want you to stay. You're going to get yourself hurt here, and I can't lose you too. Please, just go home."

He flashed his most charming smile at her, showing his dimples, and glanced toward Alrik and the others. "No, sister, I will accept the gracious hospitality of your husband. Please give him my thanks."

Chapter 23

When Selia awoke several hours later from a drugged sleep, she heard the boisterous strains of Ainnileas' whistle as he played an Irish melody. And not only was her new Finngall family tolerating it, they seemed to actually be
enjoying
it, if the clapping and laughter could be believed. Was she still dreaming? No. Her knuckles wouldn't be throbbing in pain if she was.

Hrefna had bandaged her hand and given her some sort of tea to drink, which she said would help with the shock of Niall's death. She had also tried to make Selia eat, but she had refused.

Maybe that was why the tea had affected Selia so strongly. One minute she was sitting on the bench, tucked in with furs as she sipped her tea and watched the uncomfortable attempts at communication between Ainnileas and the Finngalls, and the next she was waking up on the same bench, groggy and drooling, listening to her brother’s whistle and Ingrid's laughter.

Ingrid?
Surely Selia was mistaken. The only laugh she had ever heard out of that girl's mouth was an evil chortle, when she was gloating at someone else's expense. But the laugh came again—a female laugh, and not from Hrefna. It was an odd sort of embarrassed chuckle that could only come from someone who didn't laugh easily or often.

The room spun as she raised her throbbing head. Ainnileas stood on one of the benches placed on the other side of the room, blowing into his whistle and dancing along with the melody. Hrefna, Olaf, Ingrid, and even Alrik were gathered around him, looking up at him with expectant, smiling faces. Only Ulfrik was conspicuously missing from the group. Ainnileas made a silly face behind his whistle, clowning for his audience, and the family burst into laughter.

From the time they were small children, her brother had been known for his amiable nature and his sense of humor. He had the ability to charm his way out of the most uncomfortable situations. She had seen it happen dozens of times, both with their own friends as well as associates brought home by their father. But never, never would she have believed her brother capable of enchanting the Finngalls in the same way. Ainnileas, who barely knew any Norse, and who obviously wanted Alrik dead.

He reached the end of the song, finishing the melody with an explosive shriek of the whistle and a stomp of his foot. His crowd of admirers burst into applause. He bowed with a flourish, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"Again, Ainnileas!" Ingrid cried. Selia cringed at the way the girl’s Norse accent butchered his name, but he shot her an indulgent smile. Ingrid blushed and dimpled right back at him, and Selia's jaw dropped. What sort of strange world she had awoken in?

She sat up and glared at her brother. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked him in Irish.

Everyone turned to look at her—everyone but Ingrid. She didn't take her eyes off Ainnileas.

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "You're awake," he said, bestowing his dazzling smile on her.

She refused his foolery. Her brother had always lived his life as if it were a game. He enjoyed the sport of getting what he wanted from almost anyone. Even the crew of Niall's ship-sea hardened men, all-had apparently been more than willing to sail through treacherous waters and into Finngall territory at the direction of young Ainnileas. She was very curious to know how he had managed that.

But Alrik was not a normal man, and she had seen her husband’s mood shift from relative calm to a murderous rage in a span of seconds. How would he react when he realized Ainnileas was deceiving him? Although she didn't know what sort of game her brother played this time, she feared he would be dead when it was over.

Selia scowled at him and repeated her question. "What are you doing, Ainnileas?"

He laughed. "I so missed your grumpy face, sister." He turned back to his audience, speaking to them in Norse. "Selia can . . ." he pursed his lips, thinking for the word. He finally settled on "la la la," and looked at them with a questioning expression.

"Sing?" Ingrid offered helpfully, and he grinned at her.

"Yes,
sing.
Selia can sing. Very good." He raised his whistle to his lips as his eyes met Selia's.

"
No.
" She brought her hand down hard on the plank of the bench for emphasis. "I don't know what you're playing at but you need to stop it right now. This isn't a game, Ainnileas.
Dadai
is dead, and you're acting as though it's a
party.
" Her voice broke on the word and her eyes stung with tears.

No one but Ainnileas understood the Irish words, but Selia's tone was clear. Hrefna rushed to her, making soothing noises, and put her arm around her. "My dear child . . ."

Ainnileas jumped down from the bench to approach. He touched her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Selia." There was no guile in his voice now.

She gazed at him. He was the person she loved most in the world, and was therefore the only one who could jeopardize her love for Alrik. She could not be forced to choose between them. The threatened tears suddenly spilled forth, and she dropped her face into her hands to hide them.

Hrefna stood. "We need to give them some privacy." Her brisk tone allowed for no argument. She shot the men a pointed look and took Ingrid by the arm. "Come help me in the kitchen, Ingrid." The girl protested as she dragged her away.

Olaf went outside; Alrik rose to his feet more reluctantly. Selia met his gaze, but found the intensity of his eyes too much. She looked away, sniffling, exhausted, drained both physically and emotionally, bereft of energy to expend on Alrik right now. She had declared her love for him this morning, sure that nothing could sway her feelings.

But now her father was dead, and her husband was responsible.

Alrik turned to follow Olaf outside, and Ainnileas sat beside Selia. She closed her eyes and sank into his familiar form. Her brother held her for a long time, stroking her hair as she cried.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"You are a stupid boy." Selia mopped her face on a corner of her gown. "
Dadai
is gone and you're all I have left. Do you understand how dangerous it is for you here? If anything happened to you—”

"Nothing is going to happen to me."

"You don't know how Alrik is."

"He barely speaks a word of Irish," he pointed out with contempt.

"No, but his brother does. Ulfrik heard what you said."

Ainnileas shrugged as if unperturbed. "He won't say anything—he hates Alrik as much as I do."

She straightened in surprise. "
What?
"

"Watch the way he looks at him, Selia. It's obvious." He spoke in the patient tone one would use with a child. "When you were asleep, Alrik sent him off, I'm assuming to follow the ship and make sure it wouldn’t return. I saw the look his brother gave him when Alrik had his back turned." Ainnileas paused for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps he'll even help me get you out of here."

She felt a crushing weight on her chest, as though she couldn't take a full breath. So her brother
was
planning to steal her away. But to have the impudence to assume he could understand the situation between Alrik and Ulfrik just from one look? It was pure madness to think Ulfrik would help him, putting his own life at risk in the process.

Selia closed her eyes and saw Father's Coinneach's surprised face as Alrik slit his throat. Except the priest’s face became that of her brother’s, with the light slowly fading from his beautiful eyes.

"What were you planning on doing?" She choked on the query.

"I assumed he would send the ship away." Ainnileas seemed nonchalant. "But we found a spot where the ship can hide, Selia. They will come back in three days’ time and wait for us there."

"And how did you possibly think we could sneak away from Alrik?"

He snorted. "He certainly enjoys his ale, doesn't he? He's drunk right now in the middle of the day. So, three nights from now, he'll sleep a little more soundly than usual." He made a motion with his finger as if dropping something into a cup. "I'll set his ship on fire so he can't follow us."

The weight on Selia's chest intensified, and as she stood up she gripped the wall for support. "Ainnileas, listen to me. I will not go with you. This is my home now. Alrik is my husband."

Her brother leapt to his feet, eyes flashing. "
Your husband
is responsible for Father's death, Selia! And what is this?" He pulled roughly on the neckline of her gown to expose the bruise on her shoulder. "Do you expect me to sit idly by while that bastard hurts you? If I have to tie you up and carry you out of here over my shoulder, then so be it."

"I'm with child, Ainnileas!" She shoved him away. "I will not leave him. I will not raise my child without a father."

His anger dissolved into shock, and he blinked at her belly as he sank onto the bench. "It's all right. It's fine." He spoke in a whisper, as if talking to himself. "He won't mind."

"What are you talking about? Of course he'll mind."

He shook his head. "Not Alrik. Buadhach."

It was Selia's turn to be shocked. "
Buadhach?
Ainnileas, what have you done?"

He looked at her with hollow eyes. "I promised to bring you back to him. And he will pay the men triple their usual pay if I do."

The bile rose in her throat. So that was how a boy had persuaded a ship full of Irishmen to sail into hostile Norse waters; with the promise of riches from a desperate old man. But was Buadhach desperate enough to accept the fact his prospective bride was not only married to a Finngall warlord, but carried his child, too?

Doubtful.

"What will happen to you when I don't go back?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "You mean, after the men throw me overboard? I suppose I'll have a long swim home." He affected indifference, but Selia knew better.

"If you're not there in three days, they'll just leave without you," she argued.

"No, we planned for that. If I'm not there they'll sail east to trade, and come back on the return trip to try again."

She studied her brother. "I'm not going with them and neither are you. You must stay here until Alrik goes on another trip to Ireland."

"You mean a raid to Ireland." His voice held bitterness. "When your Finngall husband takes his next trip to butcher our people, can he drop me off at home first? No, Selia. I'll take my chances with Father's men. I buried your bride price in the barn after he died. I can pay the men. Maybe not triple, but it will be something."

Ainnileas sat and stared into space for quite some time, and Selia watched him warily. She knew her brother well. It was obvious he was hatching a new plan.

She grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look at her.

"I'm happy here, Ainnileas. This is where I belong. I love Alrik, and I will not leave him. Now or ever. Whatever you're planning won't work, and it will probably get you killed. Please, just stop. I'm begging you to stop."

He gave her the shrewd look she knew so well, and her heart sank. "Of course, Selia. I understand. Let's just enjoy the time we have together and forget all about this."

The evening passed rather uneventfully. Ainnileas was on his best behavior throughout supper and afterward, yet Selia could not relax. She watched him, looking for any sign of his hatred for her husband. What if someone sensed his animosity and mentioned it to Alrik?

But her brother charmed them all equally, appearing to the inexperienced eye to be simply a bright, handsome, fun-loving boy.

She had no interest in tafl tonight, either to play or to watch. Alrik played with Olaf, drinking heavily, while Selia ignored him. Ainnileas and Ingrid watched the game, however, and she could not help her fury toward them both. She knew her brother was only trying to ingratiate himself toward Alrik. And Ingrid—stupid girl that she was—would have sat and watched a cup of water evaporate if a handsome foreigner told her it was interesting.

For someone who knew as much Norse as a toddling child, Ainnileas seemed to have quite a bit to talk about with Ingrid. They sat close together, whispering and laughing, his dark head setting off her pale blond locks. The way the girl embarrassed herself with him was absurd. Had she failed to notice she was much too big for Ainnileas? She was taller than he, with a sturdier build.

Selia knew her brother’s interest in the girl was false-how could it be otherwise? Nevertheless it bothered her. She dropped her spinning into her lap as their laughter welled up once again. Her nerves could take no more.

Hrefna, always observant, eyed her for a moment, then reached for her hand. "Selia, come. I'll make you some more tea."

Sighing, Selia followed the woman into the kitchen. Hrefna set the water to boil and rummaged through the various pots that held a seemingly endless variety of herbs.

Hrefna placed her selections on the work table as she turned toward Selia with a sympathetic smile. "This has certainly been a terrible day for you, hasn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed, with some force. The most terrible day of her life. She met Hrefna’s gaze for a moment, then looked away.

"Is there something you would like to ask me?"

Selia hesitated as Hrefna set the herbs to steep in the hot water, then blurted, "Alrik and Ulfrik knew my father was dead, and they did not tell me. Did you also know?" Selia cared for the woman, feeling a bond with her that she thought might approximate what a daughter would feel for her mother. Surely Hrefna had not lied to her as well.

"No, child, I didn't. Olaf just told me today what happened to your poor father. Do you think I would keep something like that from you?"

"No. I'm sorry."

Hrefna cupped her cheek gently. Another peal of laughter arose from the main room, and Selia shot a dark scowl toward the doorway.

"You don't like it that Ingrid is showing an interest in your brother?"

"No." Selia chewed at her lip, afraid to say more. Ingrid was Hrefna's niece, after all.

Hrefna set the cup of tea in front of her. "You have lived here long enough to understand what Ingrid is like. The only time we get a moment's peace is when she is staying at Bjorn's. But this," she inclined her head in the direction of the others, “this is wonderful. I have heard more laughter from Ingrid in the hours your brother has been here than I have heard from her in her entire life. Ainnileas is a lovely young man, and he has quite an influence on her."