Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (18 page)

Chapter 21

The night felt thick with unresolved tension. Selia remained cool toward Alrik, and he, in response, drank cup after cup of ale. Ingrid was still furious with everyone. She sat far in the corner, muttering to herself as she mended her gown where it had ripped in the fight.

Selia remained at the hearth, spinning wool with Hrefna, and did her best to ignore Alrik. When she accidentally met his gaze, she sat mesmerized for a few seconds as the firelight danced in their blue depths.

Then she forced herself to look away. She loved him, she wanted him, and nothing was going to change that fact. But the thought of him bedding another woman was so painful, it stole her breath.

Ulfrik quietly suggested a game of tafl. Alrik turned his gaze on his brother, glowering at him for a long moment before he grunted his assent. He turned his back on Selia to set up the board with Ulfrik, and although no one in the room made a sound, it was as though a collective sigh could be felt from the family.

Keir moved toward Alrik to refill his empty cup, but Ulfrik made eye contact with the slave and shook his head, almost imperceptibly. She went back to her corner, waiting.

Selia had never seen Ulfrik lose at tafl. Hrefna had told her he never lost unless he was either very drunk or trying to humor Alrik. Yet Ulfrik now played with such hesitancy, it seemed he’d changed his strategy as a way to calm the beast that raged inside his brother.

Alrik made another shortsighted move, and Ulfrik paused for a moment with his hand hovering over the board. But instead of taking the opening, Ulfrik moved his tafl piece as if oblivious of his brother’s mistake.

Selia made a reproachful noise without meaning to, and Ulfrik looked up at her. Their gaze locked and she saw a flicker of surprise cross his face.

"What is it?" Hrefna asked, apparently noticing the odd exchange between them.

"Nothing," Selia shrugged. "I thought he would make a different move."

Alrik turned around to face her with a patronizing expression. "Don't interrupt."

"I'm sorry."

The game ended after just a few more moves. Alrik laughed, victorious. Perhaps Ulfrik had been right to throw the game. It was no different than when he sparred with his brother. It was no different than when she herself had taken Alrik into the woods to let him use her body to release his anger. It was all a means to an end; a more stable Alrik, which translated to a happier and more peaceful household.

He had vowed to Ingrid that the family would no longer coddle her and let her have her way, yet he had completely missed the irony of that statement. The family all coddled him much more than they did Ingrid. Each one of them tiptoed around him to keep him from exploding. Alrik was like a child who had been spoiled into thinking only his own selfish needs mattered. He had never been taught to respect the viewpoint of others.

How much of his behavior was due to his innate flaws, and how much was inadvertently encouraged by his family?

Alrik stood with a long, self-satisfied stretch, gloating over his win. His brother tipped his head toward him in an expression of gracious defeat. What a good liar Ulfrik was. Selia smirked at him over her spinning, but he kept his gaze averted.

"I'm going to bed." Alrik shot a pointed look at Selia over his shoulder, clearly expecting her to follow him. He staggered off to the bedroom, and Hrefna sighed in relief.

Selia began to put her spinning away when Ulfrik called, "Selia, do you want to play?"

She shot a teasing smile in his direction, detecting his embarrassment at having to lose to his brother. "Not if you allow me to win," she said.

"I won't."

Selia glanced at the bedroom door where she knew Alrik waited for her. If she wasn't still upset with him, she would have gone to him without hesitation. But now she wavered.

"Yes," she finally replied, "I will play with you."

Smiling, Ulfrik began to set up the board at the table. Selia gave him a puzzled look. It was customary to play tafl with the two opponents sitting across from each other, their knees nearly touching. The tafl board would then be balanced on the laps of the two men.

“You’re too small,” Ulfrik explained. “We’ll play at the table so the pieces stay on the board.”

Hrefna and Olaf gathered around the table as well. The woman’s spinning lay forgotten on the hearth. Even Ingrid turned her body slightly to be able to watch, although she was careful to keep her face scornful.

The game took much longer than when Alrik or Olaf played, as both Selia and Ulfrik considered each move carefully. Early on, however, he made a move that was uncharacteristically thoughtless, and she frowned at him.

"Ulfrik," she chided in Irish. "I won't play with you if you insist on throwing the game. That's insulting."

He chuckled but didn't make any more foolish moves. His face was more animated than she had ever seen it, with flushed cheeks and eyes glowing in excitement. She grinned at him and he smiled right back. Their friendship seemed to have been magically restored with a single game of tafl, all his reservations about showing too much interest in her, gone.

"How long has it been since you had any real competition?" she asked in Irish.

He laughed. "You think very highly of yourself, don't you?"

"Let me answer that after I win."

Selia made her choice and moved the piece, but realized with Ulfrik's next move she had misjudged him. After another few moves he had beaten her.

She laughed in grudging admiration. "I'm going to start calling you Ulfrik the Devious." She hadn't dared to continue their nickname game since things had gone so badly after Mani, but it seemed safe now that Alrik was behind closed doors.

He chuckled, but didn't return the nickname with one of his own. He seemed thoughtful as he studied her. "You are a clever girl, Selia. You almost beat me."

She nudged him with a smile. "And I will beat you, next time," she said. “Remember that.”

Chapter 22

She awoke in the morning with an ache in her neck from not having enough room in the bed. Alrik sprawled behind her, with a heavy arm thrown over her body and his obvious erection pressing into the small of her back. She stiffened, thinking he was awake, but his breath was deep and regular in her ear.

She lifted his arm to wriggle away, but suddenly his muscles tightened as the arm clamped down on her.

"Where do you think you're going?" he grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"I have to use the privy."

Alrik grunted his displeasure. He ran his hand over the swell of her hip and buried his nose in her hair. "Later."

Selia turned to look at him. "Alrik . . . please."

He frowned. "Come right back."

Throwing her gown on, she hurried from the room. She did use the privy, then took her time collecting some firewood while she was outside. She wandered into the kitchen, hoping that Hrefna would be there so she could offer to help the woman in some way. Then she would have an excuse for not going back to the bedroom.

The kitchen was deserted except for Alrik. He leaned against the wall, bare-chested, with his hair uncombed and a deep scowl on his face. "Did you fall in?"

She held out her armload of wood. "I was just helping Hrefna."

"That's what the thralls are for, Selia." He took the firewood from her, then dropped it onto the floor. Selia gasped at the mess, but before she could say a word he caught her arm and began pulling her back toward the bedroom.

They ran into Hrefna on the way, who paled at the look on her nephew’s face. Alrik shook his head threateningly at the woman as he dragged Selia into the bedroom. He slammed the door behind them.

"Do you have anything else you need to do?" his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Milk the sheep, perhaps? Churn some butter?"

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. Alrik sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her close, and leaned in to kiss her. She kept her mouth shut and held her body stiffly at his touch, and Alrik drew back in a blaze of fury.

"
Selia,
" he bellowed, shaking her so hard she bit her tongue. "Stop this now-I won't stand for it."

Her eyes welled up with tears as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She didn't speak and refused to look at him.

Alrik growled in frustration and pushed her aside. He stood, then began to pace, which never boded well. "What do you want from me, Selia?" he demanded. "Do you want me to get rid of her? Fine-I'll send her away. Will that make you happy?"

"No," she whispered.

His face turned blood red as his fists clenched at his sides. "
Then what do you want?"
He pronounced each word slowly, through gritted teeth.

Alrik was much too angry to be reasoned with now. He exuded pure emotion; whatever capability he possessed for rational thought long gone.

Yet there might be a way to get her point across, although it would probably fan the flames of his rage to a dangerous level.

Selia compulsively twisted the ring on her finger. "Alrik," she said as he paced like a caged animal, "how would you feel if I . . . if I told you I let another man bed me?"

He snapped, rushing toward her in a blur of motion and lifting her off her feet. Selia gasped for breath as he shoved her up against the wall. His demented face was only inches from her own. Ring or no ring, he looked as though he might actually kill her.

"
Who have you been with?
"

"No one!" She squirmed against his grip.

"Ulfrik—is it Ulfrik? I'll gut him like pig—"

"No! Only you-I have only been with you." His expression was scornful but she pressed on. "How you feel right now is how I feel when I think of you bedding Muirin. But I cannot throw you against the wall."

She saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Her husband was selfishly preoccupied with his own desires, and unable or unwilling to see a viewpoint other than his own. So the only way to help him understand what she was feeling was to make him feel it for himself.

Alrik's hands shook as he set her down. His anger had dissipated somewhat, and he sank to the edge of the bed. "That's different."

She rubbed her arms, watching him. "No, it is not."

"You are my wife," he said with a bit more force. "You must submit to me."

"Yes," she agreed, walking over to him. Selia stroked his face as she looked into his eyes. "But do you want me to submit to you because I must? Or because I love you?"

Alrik's jaw dropped. Several seconds passed before he spoke. "Don't lie to me to get what you want, child." His voice held an edge of fear under the bravado.

Had no one ever told him they loved him? Hrefna? Eydis? His mother? Perhaps he had more insight into his own behavior than Selia realized. Perhaps he was aware of how his maniacal mood swings affected those around him.

Perhaps he didn't think he was worthy of love.

She took his face in both hands to force him to look at her. "I am not lying, and I am not a child. I love you, Alrik."

His lips came down upon hers hard, almost cruelly, as if to punish her for what she had said. Then he drew back, watching for her reaction.

“I love you,” she repeated, smiling at him.

"You are a witch, Selia Niallsdottir."

"No."

"You have put a spell on me."

"
No, Alrik,
" she laughed.

"What other explanation is there? You have ruined me for any other woman. It's maddening-the only bed I want to be in is yours."

The vulnerability in his eyes was unmistakable now. Selia studied him with a furrowed brow as she realized she could hurt him, could cut him to the quick if she wanted to. Physically, Alrik was the strongest man she had ever known, yet there was a part of him as defenseless as a child. His statement that he desired only her was as close to a declaration of love as she was going to get.

He
did
love her. He just couldn't admit it without jeopardizing his ridiculous sense of manhood.

Before she could respond, they were interrupted by a loud knock. "Alrik," Ulfrik's voice came from the other side of the door. "There is a ship approaching. I don't recognize it."

Her husband’s entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. He stood up, all hesitancy gone, then crossed the room in three strides to open the door. Ulfrik looked grim.

"How large?" Alrik demanded.

"Good sized. It's not a warship, or at least not one of ours. Possibly Irish."

Alrik flipped open the large chest at the foot of the bed, pulling out his mail shirt and iron helmet. He donned the shirt quickly, buckled his sword around his hips, then drew his battle axe out of the chest. "Is there time to send a rider to get Bjorn?"

"No," Ulfrik replied.

Alrik cursed under his breath. "Then we will meet them alone, brother."

Ulfrik nodded and left the room.

Why would an Irish ship be in Norse waters? The Irish hated the Finngalls, and a merchant ship would have gone well out of its way to avoid the bloodthirsty pirates. Selia had seen with her own eyes what the Finngalls could do to a merchant ship. Unless—

"Alrik," she said, grabbing his arm, "it could be my father's ship!"

He shook her hand away, glancing at her only briefly before leaning over to strap an extra dagger to his boot. "No, it's not." His voice was curt.

"But you do not know—"

He stood up. "It isn't your father's ship. You will go into the woods with Hrefna and Ingrid, and wait until we come for you."

She bristled. "I will not leave you."

"You will do as I say, Selia!" He clapped the helmet onto his head as he pulled her into the main room where the others were waiting. Male thralls also stood in the room, three that Hrefna trusted the most.

Alrik handed them daggers. He barked, “Go into the woods with the women, and protect them with your lives if necessary.”

Dressed for battle, he appeared even larger than usual, and his voice had a quality to it that made him sound like a stranger.

Olaf and Ulfrik also wore their mail, and Selia felt a strange prickling on the back of her neck as she looked at the three heavily armed Finngalls. It was almost as though they had ceased to be the men she had grown to love, and had transformed before her eyes into Vikingers-soulless heathens bent on the slaughter of innocents.

But she had seen them in their battle raiment before. What was different now? Why was she feeling so peculiar? The smoke from the hearth was thick in the air and made it difficult to draw in a deep breath. She had become lightheaded, that was all.

No, there was something about the smoke . . . the smoke and the Finngalls. She felt a frustrated sense that this had all happened before, as if she should be able to remember something but could not. It was as if she tried to wrap her fingers around a shadow.

Ulfrik whispered something to Alrik. As her husband turned, his face was almost unrecognizable under the helmet. Only the braided beard was familiar. He took a step toward her and she stumbled back.

Her heart hammered in her chest at the icy glitter of his eyes behind his helmet. Even though she knew it was Alrik, she felt an overpowering urge to run from this man.

"Selia," he ordered, "go with Hrefna.
Now
."

She blinked. The dreamlike quality vanished, and Alrik was her husband again. The man she loved. What was wrong with her? She forced herself to stand by Hrefna and Ingrid, also armed with daggers. Hrefna appeared worried and grim, but Selia saw a definite gleam of excitement in Ingrid's eyes. Probably in anticipation of killing someone.

As the men left to face alone whatever fate would be dealt them, Hrefna led the group of women and slaves out the kitchen door and toward the woods. Selia followed the woman blindly, blinking back tears.

Ulfrik had told his brother the ship was large. How many men were on this ship? And how could three men, even well-armed and trained since childhood to kill, possibly expect to face them?

They were nearly to the tree line, and as they went up the hill Selia craned her neck to get one last glimpse of her husband. The ship moved through the water toward the dock, and she stopped short as she recognized the distinctive prow. The ship, wide and deep and a direct contrast to Alrik's long, shallow dragonship, had been designed to carry fine fabrics and other precious cargo through the treacherous open sea and safely back to Ireland.

"It
is
my father's ship!" she cried to Hrefna, and before the woman could turn, Selia was sprinting down the hill. She could hear Hrefna calling out for her to wait, but she didn't stop. She ran until she reached Alrik and the others, just as the ship was pulling into the dock.

"Alrik—"

He grabbed her arm. "Selia! I told you to go with Hrefna."

She squirmed and tried to pry his fingers away. "It is my father's ship," she insisted.

Alrik looked ready to explode.

Ulfrik stepped forward. "You are mistaken, Selia." He kept his eyes on the ship and didn't take his hand from the hilt of his sword.

Her eyes scanned the ship for her father. She recognized many of the men who had worked for Niall for as long as she could remember, but her father was nowhere in sight. And although the men had lashed the ship to the dock, no one appeared willing to step toward the small group of Finngalls who waited for them.

Except for one-a smaller, dark-headed figure who pushed through the men to stand alone on the dock.

Ainnileas.

Selia cried out as she saw her brother, and renewed her fight against Alrik's grip. "Alrik . . . let go," she begged. "It is Ainnileas . . ."

He looked down at her, stony-faced, then finally released her. She ran for her brother. Selia hugged him so tightly that after a moment he had to untangle her arms from around his neck so he could breathe.

He looked different than she remembered-older somehow, although they had been apart for less than two full moons.

"What are you doing here, Ainnileas?" she asked through her tears. She hadn't realized how incomplete she had felt without him. It was as though she had been missing a part of her body, a limb or an eye, and it had now been returned to her. She was whole again.

"I told you I would find you." His voice sounded deeper, almost like a man.

She laughed and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. How had they been able to locate her? All Ainnileas and Niall knew was Alrik's name, yet they had found her.

She pulled back and her eyes scanned the ship. "Where is
Dadai
?"

A look of confusion crossed Ainnileas' face. He hesitated for a moment. "He . . . he is dead, Selia."

She stared, blinking in incomprehension, as her knees gave out from under her. She sank to the ground and Ainnileas knelt in front of her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at her brother. "No."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you knew." He looked toward the small group of Finngalls standing on the grass, and Selia saw the accusation in his gaze. She gasped as though she had been punched in the stomach. Ainnileas was surprised she didn't know their father was dead.

Surprised the Finngalls hadn't told her.

Alrik and Ulfrik had insisted the ship was not her father's, even after she recognized it. How had they been so sure? There was only one explanation. They had already known her father was dead. Dead men could not sail.

"When, Ainnileas?" she whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

"The night you left."

A wail escaped her lips. She had a distinct memory of Alrik leaning over to whisper something to Ketill just before they had ridden away. Had Alrik ordered him to kill Niall?

"They killed him . . ." she choked out, unable to catch her breath.