Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (29 page)

He stood up as well, moving toward her. "You're wrong. I would never do anything to hurt you."

Selia was cornered against the cliff. "Get out of my way, Ulfrik."

"No, listen to me first—"

She darted around him but he grabbed her arm. She tried to shake loose. "Let go of me!"

"Your mother didn't poison your wine. It was Muirin."

Selia stopped struggling. She looked as though he had slapped her in the face.

"I knew nothing of it until afterward, or I would have stopped her. I never would have let her hurt you. Muirin realized I was in love with you. She wanted you to leave but she knew Alrik wouldn't let you take his child away. The timing was coincidence, I swear it."

Selia cried out in rage, "Lies—more lies! How can I believe anything you say?”

"I'm not lying."

"Then why did you let me believe it was my mother?"

"Because Alrik will kill Muirin if he finds out what she did. And the child with her."

She tried to pry his fingers from her arm. "
Let go of me
."

Ulfrik released her and she stumbled backward a few steps. "Selia, everything I've done has been for you. To protect you."

"Protect me? All you've done is ruin my life, Ulfrik! He
loved
me." Her voice grew tight with emotion. "And he was happy with me, but you couldn't stand it. And now you expect me to be grateful to you for destroying him?"

"Selia-"

"Stay away from me. I don't want or need your protection."

The sharp little fingers that were wrapped around Ulfrik's heart sliced deeper, ripping and tearing, until the bloody thing was rent from his body in a brutal jerk. A gruesome slaughter, as bad as anything he had experienced in battle.

The taste of Selia's lips was still on his as he watched her run away.

Chapter 36

Selia scrubbed the tears from her face with her sleeve as she stormed up the beach and through the woods. She wouldn't go back to Ulfrik's house, the sanctuary he had so kindly offered to them while they were waiting for Ainnileas' ship to return.

The perfect place to corner her while she was alone and vulnerable with grief.

Ulfrik wasn't the master tafl player for nothing.

She had allowed him to kiss her, to touch her. And she had found some level of pleasure in his touch. She had encouraged him. What was wrong with her? Only a whore would do such a thing. She felt sick but there was nothing in her stomach to come up.

Whore.
Her lips felt bruised from Ulfrik’s kisses. She could still smell his scent on her. She headed for the spring that bubbled behind the house to wash herself, and as she rounded the path she plowed headlong into her mother.

Grainne dropped most of the sticks from the pile of firewood she had been collecting and narrowed her eyes, raking them over Selia from head to toe. "Well, I see you didn't waste any time with the brother. Should I be surprised?"

"You have no idea of what you speak," Selia hissed through gritted teeth. Her hand itched to slap Grainne's face, and she clenched it tightly to avoid doing so.

"Don't I?" Grainne sneered.

She flushed. "Get away from me. I have nothing to say to you."

"I still have plenty to say to
you
, traitor child."

The woman was deranged. Selia pushed past her, but Grainne grabbed a fistful of Selia's hair, jerking her back.

"Get off me!" Selia screamed.

But Grainne looped hair around her hand, over and over until she held Selia so tightly she couldn't move. Grainne grasped a stick, sturdy and sharp, in her other hand. "You weren't supposed to live." Her voice made gooseflesh pop up on Selia's arms. "All of this happened because you didn't die when you should have."

Selia tried to push her away but Grainne twisted harder, forcing another scream as tears sprang to her eyes.

Grainne only laughed. "You'll cry for yourself, won't you? And you'll cry for the devil whose seed you carry. But have you shed one tear for your own father, the man who died because of you?"

"It's not my fault—how can you blame me for that?" she panted.

"Oh, but it is. Know this, child.
It is your fault
. Your soul is as putrid as that of the devil you lust after, and I knew it from the beginning but I didn't want to believe it—"

"Selia!" Ainnileas' voice came from the direction of the house. "Selia!"

"I'm here!" she choked out. And in the span of a second Grainne released her hair, then disappeared into the woods. As if she had never been there.

Selia was still reeling as her brother burst through the trees. He looked around, blinking, when he saw she was alone. "Why were you screaming?"

She rushed up to him. "She's mad, Ainnileas, completely mad!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Grainne. She tried to kill me. She would have done it if she hadn't heard you coming."

"
What
?"

"She had a stick—"

"A stick?" His expression made it clear what he thought about a small, frail woman armed with a stick.

"It's not amusing! She almost killed me." Selia sniffled. "And if you think I'm getting on a ship with that woman, you're as mad as she is."

"So that's what this is about." Ainnileas looked disgusted. "You’ll find any excuse to stay here. It won't work, Selia. Besides, Alrik is nearly dead. I've already spoken with Ulfrik, and he's asked for your hand. I'm sure you'll agree he’s preferable to Buadhach."

She shoved him. "
No,"
she fumed. "I'm already married!"

"You are divorced." He had to use the Norse word, since the concept didn't exist in Irish. "You married a heathen, and you divorced him. You are free to remarry, and I am responsible for finding a suitable husband for you. Ulfrik is a good man. He's agreed to be baptized to make the marriage legitimate. And he paid as much for you as Alrik did even though you're not a virgin."

"I won't have him. You must return the bride price." Her voice trembled as she glared at her brother.

He shook his head. "I can't. We need it to get home if you're not going to marry Buadhach."

She had been sold—bought and paid for. Ulfrik had simply been claiming his property down at the cove. "No!" she shouted, pushing her brother hard enough to make him stumble backward.

"It's done, Selia—it's over!" Ainnileas shouted. "When will you learn to do as you're told? If you had listened to Father he would still be alive."

Selia felt the blood drain from her face. For the second time today she had been blamed for the death of a father. She swallowed. "Return the bride price," she ordered harshly. "Or throw it into the sea-I don't care which. But I'd marry the devil himself before I would step one foot on a ship with you or with Ulfrik Ragnarson."

She walked for hours as twilight came and went, and the moon rose in the sky. Her body ached with exhaustion but she forced herself to keep going. She kept the coastline in sight, knowing it was the only landmark that could be trusted, since every hill and valley she crossed looked the same.

After a while she felt a strange sense of weightlessness, as if her body had indeed died and only her ghost was now floating across the ground. A ghost on her way to begin an eternity with the devil. But at least it was eternity of her own choosing.

She heard the babbling of a stream nearby and veered into the woods until she found it. Selia knelt at its bank, gulping handfuls of water until her thirst was slaked, then rested for a moment as she stared at her watery reflection in the moonlight. She looked terrible, with sunken eyes and her hair a wild bird's nest around her shoulders. Something about her gaunt face reminded her of Grainne's, and she shuddered.

The woman’s bond with Ketill was clearly deeper than master and slave. Grainne's voice would soften whenever she spoke of him, and she had seen the way her mother had looked at him when he was at the house this morning.

Ketill had kept her enslaved to him for sixteen years. He had surely done things in battle just as atrocious as any other Finngall. How could Grainne love him, yet deny her daughter's right to love Alrik?

How could the woman fail to understand it could just as easily have been Ketill, or any other nameless, faceless Finngall who had killed her husband and raped her? But it
had
been Alrik, and Grainne had latched on that to such an extent, she could see nothing else. To the point where it had driven her mad enough to try to kill her own daughter.

Selia looked again at the cool stream. It was wide, but not so deep she could drown in it. She stripped off her filthy gown and shift, then walked out into the water. She sat down to allow the stream to bubble over her legs and belly; splashed water onto her face and gave it a vigorous scrub, washing away the memory of Ulfrik's lips on hers.

The babe kicked, a small, fluttering movement that reminded her of the feeling of a minnow held in her hand. She smiled, cupping the curve of her belly. He was strong; too strong to be stilled by the poison that had been slipped into her drink. She would protect this child and watch him grow into a man. Her son would be a Finngall.

Selia lay back, holding her breath as the cool water gurgled over her face and hair. As she sat up, she felt strangely empty, as though the water had scrubbed her soul clean. She dressed with a renewed lightness to her heart, then headed for home.

She entered through the kitchen door, surprising Muirin so greatly that the girl cried out and dropped the cooking pot she had been scrubbing.

Muirin flushed purple and sank into a curtsey made awkward by her enormous belly. "Mistress," she whispered under her breath.

Selia picked up the pot and handed it to her, as it appeared the thrall wouldn't be able to rise again if she tried to squat. What was Muirin doing in the house? Hrefna had done her best to keep her in the barn or the field-as far from Selia as possible. But with her absence, Muirin must have again been given free run of the place. Had that included Alrik's bed?

Selia cocked her head curiously. "Have you been sleeping with my husband?"

A choked gasp came from Muirin's throat. "No . . . no. He tried. But he was . . . unable."

She gave the girl a sharp look. Unable—like Old Buadhach was unable? How was that even possible? Alrik was always
able, sometimes exhaustingly so. Had something happened to him, then?

"Where is he?" she demanded.

Muirin's eyes darted toward the bedroom. "He stays in there, all the time."

"Where is Hrefna? And Olaf?"

"Asleep."

Good, they were alone. She leaned in close to the girl. "I know what you did, Muirin. Ulfrik told me."

The thrall’s beautiful face turned chalk white, and her mouth opened but no sound came out. So Ulfrik had been telling the truth, this time at least.

"But you failed. My child is stronger than your poison." Selia drew her gown tight against her belly to show her the rounded outline. "And when I tell Alrik what you did he'll kill you."

Muirin backed against the wall and began to cry. "Please, Mistress," she stammered, "take pity on my child and wait until after it's born."

"You showed my child no pity."

"Please . . . I beg you . . ."

Selia let her cry for several moments until she was satisfied of the girl’s terror. "There
is
something you can do for me, Muirin. If you do exactly as I say, I won't tell Alrik of your treachery. But if you don't, I'll make sure you die the day your child is born. I'll kill you myself if I must."

As Selia entered Alrik's bedroom, she nearly took a step backward, assaulted by an odor that hit her like a physical slap; a smell of unwashed man, stale alcohol, and urine. He was at the little table in the corner, asleep with his head lolled back against the wall. There was a cask of ale next to him. The cup in his hand had tipped over, its former contents now a dark stain on his breeches.

The candle on the table was burnt down nearly to a nub, and she stood frozen as the flickering light danced over Alrik's inert form. His hair clung to his skull in lank, greasy strands, and his clothes were filthy. The stench of urine was overwhelming. Had he become so drunk he had urinated on himself? No, the smell was coming from a muddy puddle in the furthest corner of the room.

Selia stared. Even more disturbing than his drastically unkempt appearance was how
small
he appeared. It was a physical impossibility for a man to shrink, yet it was as though all of the Hersir’s bravado and arrogance had shriveled away, leaving only an empty shell that vaguely resembled him.

Selia swallowed hard, then returned to the kitchen for a large basin of water and a cake of soap. Muirin was gone, obviously not wanting any other uncomfortable encounters with the mistress of the house.

She shut the bedroom door, then lit another candle. Selia stripped the filthy blankets from the bed. She pulled clean linen out of one of the trunks, as well as fresh clothes for Alrik when he woke up. After finishing the bed, she wet a rag, wringing it out slowly, and washed Alrik's face. His cheekbones felt as sharp as knife blades under her fingers.

When she wiped a line of drool from Alrik's chin, he startled awake.

He blinked, disoriented, and rubbed a hand across his mouth. His eyes focused on her and he stopped mid-movement. He sat for several moments, gaping at her as if she were a ghost.

"Alrik," she whispered, "I have come back, if you will have me." Selia gently pried the cup from his fingers, then set it on the table.

Alrik’s eyes flickered dully. "I know you're not real." His voice was thick, as though it had been some time since he had spoken.

She leaned in to kiss his forehead. "I am real."

He seemed afraid to touch her, and sat with his arms down at his sides as he stared at her. "Why do you torment me?"

Selia cupped his face in her palms. Obviously he was too drunk to have a conversation of any substance. "Alrik, listen to me. I have left my family and come back to you. I have walked all the way from your grandfather's house, and I am very tired. Let's sleep now and we will talk in the morning."

His hesitant hands slid up her body, fingers clenching around her upper arms. Selia winced as they made contact with the spot where Ulfrik had gripped her tightly as they argued this afternoon, which now seemed ages ago.

"Selia?"

At her smile, he snatched her up in a hug that expelled the air from her lungs. He made an odd noise, a small, strangled yelp, and she tried to draw back. Was his wound not completely healed-had she bumped it? But a second later, she realized he was crying. Not just crying, but
sobbing.

She stood, blinking at the sight of her husband crying like a child. She had never seen a man cry before. Alrik's body wracked with sobs of such intensity that it was difficult for her to remain standing, but she planted her feet farther apart and held on to him. She stroked his hair like a mother comforting her young.

After a while his sobs slackened a bit, then finally stopped. He continued to grip her, though, with his face buried in her bodice.

"Why did you come back?" he rasped.

Selia paused. How could she answer that? She had willingly returned to a man who had not only destroyed her family, but had tried to murder her as a child. A man who was arrogant, selfish, and prone to violent rages. A man directly responsible for the spells that had plagued her for as long as she could remember. Most people would consider her decision to return to her husband as foolish at best, and at worst, a wish for death.