Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (23 page)

Chapter 29

Ainnileas blew a few notes into his whistle, then called out to Selia from the other side of the room where he was consorting with Ingrid. "Sing with me, my sister," he said in Norse, causing Ingrid to giggle. The girl had taken it upon herself to teach Ainnileas her language, but she found his accent hilarious.

Or was Ingrid laughing because he had perhaps shared with her the embarrassing reason for Selia’s reluctance to sing? She stabbed the needle through the cloth of the breeches she was sewing for Alrik, and refused to look up at her brother in his absurd Finngall outfit.

"No." She glanced over to where Alrik was reclining on one of the benches. He had slept for several hours after his bath, but had insisted on getting out of bed for supper. Hrefna had made him another large helping of liver and blood pudding, which he had downed with enthusiasm. Now he had his eyes closed again. "Alrik needs to rest."

"But
you
need to practice for the party," Ainnileas coaxed, this time in Irish.

She dropped the sewing into her lap with a sigh. At this rate she would be up all night trying to finish Alrik's outfit. "No," she snapped at her brother. "And I told you, I'm not singing at the gathering. Why would they want to hear Irish songs? No one would understand the words except for Ulfrik."

Ulfrik chimed in from where he had just finished a game of tafl with Olaf. "They don’t understand what you're saying when you speak Irish, either," he pointed out, "so what's the difference if you're singing or talking?" Selia glared at him, and he shrugged. "Why don't we play a game of tafl, then? I remember the last time we played you promised to beat me."

She made a face. "And I will."

"If you beat me, your brother will stop pestering you to sing. I will personally flog him if he asks you again." Ainnileas laughed at this, and Ulfrik shot him an amused look. "But if I win, you will have to sing at a time of Ainnileas' choosing."

She chewed her lip, considering. What was Ulfrik up to?

"Selia hates to lose," Ainnileas informed Ulfrik, who did not seem surprised to hear this.

Ulfrik was an excellent tafl player, but he had been drinking rather heavily since supper. Selia studied him. His movements were slower, more purposeful, as always when he was intoxicated. She would have the advantage if she played him now. When she won, Ainnileas would have to finally shut up.

"All right." She put down her sewing. "One game."

Ulfrik brought the board to the table and began to set it up. The others gathered round to watch, and even Ingrid did not pretend to be indifferent. Selia looked over to where the girl sat shoulder to shoulder with Ainnileas, whispering and giggling. She gritted her teeth and helped Ulfrik arrange the pieces.

The game moved along at a snail's pace, for Ulfrik needed a long time to process each move. But although the alcohol had slowed him down somewhat, it didn't seem to have impaired his judgment as she thought it would. He made no mistakes. Near the end of the game, she began to suspect she might end up singing at the gathering after all.

Ulfrik made a particularly good move that took Selia by surprise, and she swallowed, wiping her sweaty palms on her thighs as she stared at the board. She looked up at her opponent, who leaned back, watching her in a very self-assured way. Apparently
he
also assumed she would be singing at the gathering.

Ainnileas snorted with laughter and Selia nearly threw one of the tafl pieces at him, but she forced herself to block everything else out as she studied the board. She mentally ran through all the possible moves she could make, followed by Ulfrik's most likely counter moves.

He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to annoy her so she would make a mistake. She slapped her hand over his to make him stop, and he grinned. "Make your move, Selia the Dawdler," he said as he drew his hand away.

Why was he choosing to joke with her now-an attempt to distract her, perhaps? Ulfrik had fooled her once before at tafl. But like most men, he had a weakness. And his was the way he underestimated her.

Selia moved her piece. For all intent it looked as though she had panicked and made a bad move, one that would eventually let Ulfrik's king gain access to her side of the board.

He moved his king a line closer, and Selia held back a smile. Ulfrik had fallen for her trap. When she counted the remaining lines on the board and calculated all the moves, she figured if Ulfrik moved his king to that particular spot, there was no way he could win.

It took two more moves for him to realize this as well. She eyed him with satisfaction as he stared down at the board, dumfounded.

"What?" Ainnileas barked impatiently.

Ulfrik cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off Selia. "She tricked me. I lost."

"You let her win," Ainnileas accused.

"No." Ulfrik shook his head as he took a long quaff of ale.

Selia stood, shooting a grin at her brother. "Would you like to know where you can put your whistle, Ainnileas?" she said sweetly in Irish.

Ulfrik choked on his ale, and as he coughed he spat it out all over the front of her dress.

She gasped. For a long moment she and Ulfrik stared at each other, too shocked to speak. Then she broke into laughter and everyone else joined in. Selia laughed so hard, tears ran down her face and she couldn't catch her breath.

"Sh—shush," she wheezed, "we will wake up Alrik."

"I'm already awake," he grumbled from his bench.

She wiped her eyes, still giggling. Perhaps he felt left out, all alone across the room while everyone else was having fun. She went to him and brushed the hair back from his forehead, surreptitiously checking for fever. "Did you see me beat Ulfrik at tafl?" she whispered.

"Yes."

Selia grinned at him. "Now I will not have to sing at the gathering."

"Hmm, that's unfortunate." Alrik spoke in a voice loud enough to be overheard. A strangely challenging expression settled on his face as his eyes met Ulfrik’s. "I was looking forward to hearing you sing, little one."

Her smile faded as she regarded him. He was jealous; envious of the laughter she had just shared with Ulfrik, he now wanted to prove something to his brother.

He stroked her cheek, making her shiver. "One song," he coaxed.

"At the gathering?"

"No, now."

Selia gave him a hard look. To refuse would not only embarrass him, but would also bring him down a notch in whatever odd power struggle he engaged with his brother. Damn him for putting her in this position. Was she nothing more than a knob on the tafl board?

But she wouldn't scold him in front of the entire family, and Alrik knew it. She fumed silently for a moment longer, just to be certain he understood how upset she was, then stood and nodded at her brother.

Ainnileas whooped in triumph. He pulled out his whistle, leaping on one of the benches, then reached for her, as if he actually thought her willing to make a spectacle of herself up there with him.

She stubbornly remained on the floor. "Pick something short," she hissed.

He thought for a moment, then with a chuckle launched into “The Lamentation of Deirdre for the Sons of Usnach.” Selia's jaw clenched, and she had a nearly overwhelming urge to leap upon the bench and strangle her brother. Not only was it the longest song they knew, but it was also the very song with which she had humiliated herself, a year ago. Ainnileas had chosen it for that reason, no doubt.

Infuriating boy
.

She closed her eyes and began to sing. Since childhood, the tragic song had always been her favorite. Beautiful maiden Deirdre, betrothed to the much-older King Conchobar, did not love her affianced. While walking through a meadow, she met Naoise, a handsome young warrior who happened to be Conchobar's nephew. The two fell instantly in love, and Deirdre, against Naoise's better judgment, persuaded him to elope with her.

Selia blushed as she sang that verse. Thank goodness Alrik couldn't understand the words. Could it be her favorite song had inadvertently given her the courage to suggest he marry her? At least her own story would not end in tragedy like that of Deirdre, for old Buadhach was no match for her powerful Finngall husband.

But luck was not with Deirdre and Naoise, who, along with Naoise's two brothers, had traveled from Ireland to Scotland to avoid the pursuit of Conchobar's men. One day they received word that Conchobar had decided he did not want Deirdre after all, and requested Naoise return to him, where all would be forgiven.

Deirdre begged her husband not to go. But of course honor won out over the sound council of a woman. Naoise and his brothers were killed by the treachery of the king's men. Deirdre was captured and forced to marry Conchobar.

Selia shivered as she sang the most heartbreaking stanza of the song—

What, O Conchobar, of thee?

To me naught but tears and lamentations

Hast thou meted out;

This is my life, so long as life shall last,

Thy love for me is as a flame put out.

He who was the fairest under heaven,

He who was most beloved;

Thou hast torn him from me.

Immeasurable is the injury;

I see him not until I die.

She blinked back hot tears. Had anyone noticed? It was silly to be so moved by a song she had sung so often. But the last time she had sung it she had been but an inexperienced child. Now, the thought of losing her husband the way Deirdre lost Naoise nearly took her breath away.

The song concluded with Deirdre's violent suicide. She was the most beautiful woman in Ireland, and her beauty inflamed Conchobar to kill his own nephews. Deirdre opened the door of her carriage as it traveled at high speed, and dashed her head against a rock.

At the final note, Selia took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She saw Ulfrik first, whose face was flushed with either alcohol or emotion. Since he would be the only one who actually understood the words of the song, perhaps the tragic tale had affected him.

The rest of the family sat in open-mouthed amazement, staring at her. She blushed, averting her gaze.

Hrefna broke the silence first. "By the gods, dear child, you have a voice the likes of which I have never heard. Why is it that you didn't want to sing for us?"

Ainnileas laughed. Selia’s frown dared him to speak. He winked instead.

Niall had been a sociable man, and had frequently brought home dinner guests. And after dinner he would request his daughter sing for their guests, a task with which she usually complied without hesitation.

On the night they shared dinner with their nearest neighbors, Osgar the blacksmith, and his son, Naithi, disaster struck. Ainnileas leaned close and whispered that the widowed blacksmith was going to ask Niall for Selia's hand. She pinched him, sure he was teasing, but afterward couldn't remove the thought from her mind. Which, of course, was exactly why her brother had said it.

Selia winced when her father suggested she sing “The Lamentation of Deirdre.” Such a lengthy song. Her belly tightened with apprehension. Every time she looked at Osgar she felt ill. Why had Eithne used such a heavy hand when spicing the mutton? The meat lay like a stone in her gullet.

As Selia stood to sing, the blacksmith stared at her with a flushed, lovestruck look on his craggy face. Her skin crawled and she looked away, but met the gaze of handsome, green-eyed Naithi, who had a similar expression on his own features.

She closed her eyes and sang, trying to block everything else out. But her churning stomach was difficult to ignore, and she prayed to make it through the song without having to run outside. She took a deep breath, concentrating on reaching a particularly high note, then smiled in relief. But she made the mistake of opening her eyes. Osgar was smiling at her, revealing a mouthful of decayed teeth. Her mind supplied the disturbing image of his rotten mouth on hers, at which point Selia's belly lurched again and she vomited—

At the feet of the handsome Naithi.

Now she fiddled with the folds of her skirt, flushing so deeply it felt as though her face was on fire. “I become flustered, sometimes," she muttered, which caused another outburst of laughter from her brother. He made a sound in his throat like a cat retching up a hairball, and she could take no more. She turned on him, snatching a cup of ale from the table, and threw it at his head as hard as she could.

Ainnileas ducked, laughing, as the ale splashed against the wall behind him. "I hate you," she hissed at him.

Selia snatched up her discarded sewing and rushed to her bedroom.

Chapter 30

Alrik came in a bit later, limping to the bed. He sat for a moment, watching her sew, and when she looked at him she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. Obviously Ainnileas had told her humiliating story to everyone. She jabbed the needle into the cloth as though it was her brother's traitorous face.

"Come here, Selia." Alrik held his hand out to her.

"You will have nothing to wear to the gathering if I do not finish this," she retorted.

He smirked, pointing toward the chest they both knew was full of clothes. She sighed, dropping her sewing, and went to him.

She had removed her damp gown that smelled of ale and had been sewing in her shift. Alrik eyed her breasts appreciatively where they pushed against the fabric. He wrapped his hands around her waist and seemed pleased that his fingers no longer met. Although Selia's belly had not yet begun to protrude, her waist had noticeably widened.

"Did you care for Naithi?" He pronounced the Irish name with difficulty.

"Naithi? The blacksmith's son?"

"Who else?" Alrik's voice was cross.

Surely he wasn't jealous?

The idea of him envying the boy was absurd. Alrik was as handsome as one of his heathen gods, and a powerful Hersir as well. Yet here he was, concerned about the possibility his wife might be in love with a skinny lad who lived across the ocean.

"No." Selia bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Until I met you that day in Dubhlinn, I did not care for anyone. I thought boys were foolish."

He chuckled and seemed satisfied. "Well, if the way you snubbed us in the market is any indication of how you treated them, I'm surprised anyone had the courage to try again."

What was his meaning? Perhaps she had misunderstood him. "In the market?"

"Yes, when you bumped into us." At her blank look, he formed a mischievous smile. "Ulfrik is used to women ignoring him, but I'm not."

"Alrik, I met you on the hill. And I never saw Ulfrik until you took me away."

Selia watched the blood drain from his face. Since leaving Bjorgvin, she hadn't had one of her bird spells, but she had had many of her staring spells, where she would blank out for just a moment or two. There was no warning when they came upon her, so there was no way to hide them. She was usually able to claim distraction or simple daydreaming, if anyone noticed.

Alrik had never mentioned the times Selia's eyes would occasionally glaze over, so she assumed he didn't notice. But if what he said was true about that day in Dubhlinn, he had bumped into her in the market while she was incapacitated by a spell. He had then followed her up the hill when she had gone to see the dragonships.

It wasn't a simple chance meeting as she had thought.

Selia studied her husband thoughtfully. "Alrik, when you came to me the next day in the woods, you were surprised I spoke any Norse."

"Yes."

"Then how did you think you could ask me to go with you?"

He paused for a moment. "I wasn't going to ask you. I was going to take you. I wanted to take you the day I saw you in the market." His eyes burned into hers, and she couldn't look away. "You set up such a craving inside me. I had to have you."

"But you didn't take me," she whispered.

"No." He swallowed. "I didn't want you to fear me. You do something to me, Selia. I lose all reason when I look at you. You drive me mad with desire, yet at the same time I want to protect you. I want to protect you from me."

Alrik's face flushed dark, as though he immediately regretted his words. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting he loved her.

He set her aside to unlace his boots, grunting and cursing as he tried to pull them off, getting angrier by the minute.

As she watched him she realized he was embarrassed, not because he couldn't remove his boots, but from nearly confessing he loved her. She knelt down to assist him. "Do you need help with your breeches, too?" she teased in an attempt to lighten his mood.

But his anger stayed firmly in place. "Selia," he said abruptly, "I don't want you to spend so much time with Ulfrik. No more tafl."

"What?" Her smile faded. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter why. Because I said so."

Her lip quivered as she stood up. "Have I done something wrong?"

Alrik stared at her for several moments. "If it had been Ulfrik you met in Dubhlinn—instead of me—would you have gone with him?"

Selia gaped in surprise. Did he actually believe she was interested in his brother, or was this simply his way of picking a fight with her after his near-admission of love, a way to deflect the conversation away from what he perceived as a weakness?

"No," she replied. "I told you—you are the only one I have ever wanted."

"But you do care for Ulfrik," he probed. "I see the way you look at him. I see the way you laugh with him."

"He is my friend, Alrik." She felt her face flush with temper. "He is kind to me."

"He is kind to you," her husband mocked. "Yes, he is
so
kind, and he wants nothing in return. I tell you Selia, you don't know anything about my brother. If I gave the word, he would ravish you just as he did Muirin—"

She cried out, covering her ears. "Stop! Why are you saying such things?"

"Because they're true!" His anger had escalated to a dangerous level. "No man can look at you and think of friendship, and Ulfrik is no better than anyone else."

"Alrik,
stop."
She cradled his face in her palms and looked directly into his wild eyes. She could feel the tension in his body as it shook with rage; could sense the beast inside him, pacing to get out. She stroked his face gently as though calming a nervous animal.

"I only want you," she reassured him. "Only you."

If he wasn't limited by his injury, this would be the point when he would either push her aside to go chop wood, or throw her down onto the bed and use her body as an outlet for his anger. But he could do neither, and they both knew it. The frustration of unaccustomed physical weakness was almost too much for him to bear.

"I want you to stay away from Ulfrik. Do you understand?" There was still venom in Alrik's voice, even though his body sagged with exhaustion, his cheeks wan.

This moment had been bound to come-it was actually a surprise it hadn't happened sooner. But that didn't make it any easier. "Yes," she said, keeping her eyes lowered so he wouldn't see the emotion behind them.

"You can play tafl with me if you like. I'm a good player."

Selia nodded, pushing him backward onto the bed. "Lie down now." He didn't resist, allowing her to lift his legs one at a time so he wouldn't hurt himself. But he pouted all the while, like a petulant child after a tantrum.

"You can be cross at me tomorrow," she said. "Now it is time to sleep."

"Humph," Alrik grunted.

She lay down next to him with her head pillowed on his shoulder, stroking the bare skin of his chest through the neckline of his shirt. Without conscious thought, she hummed a melody to soothe him, and after a few moments felt her own eyes grow heavy.

"Do all the Irish know that song?" he asked, disturbing her reverie.

Selia startled. The song she had been humming was “The Lamentation of Deirdre.” Of course it had been in her head since she had sung it so recently. "Yes, I think so."

"I knew I had heard it before.” His voice slurred as he sank into slumber, mumbling, “I think Ulfrik's mother used to sing it to him."