Page 16 of Heart of the Wolf

Chapter eight

Brielle

As he promised, Leif returned just before nightfall. She refused to cry, allowing him to lift her in his arms and carry her to bed. Still complaining that she needed to eat more, he fed her nuts until she fell asleep curled on his chest, unbothered by the bloodstains in his beard.

The next morning, he was gone before the sun rose, called away again by Amund, but his warmth still clung to the furs.

Over the next two weeks, Leif spent most of his time dealing with restlessness in the outlying clans. Regardless of how busy his days were, he came home to her every night. Always a little more worn down than he had been the day before.

With him gone during the day, Brielle spent her time with Astrid.

Her patience and optimism were boundless.

A light shone deep within her, shining brighter than anyone else.

Her kindness attracted many people, drawing them in.

Astrid reminded Brielle a bit of her mother, making flowers bloom around the deadened tree of her grief.

Every day, without fail, Astrid woke Brielle by crawling into the spot Leif had vacated.

“Morning. Eat. Then, I will show you how to manage this,” she said, tugging on Brielle’s curls.

Braiding her hair wasn’t as difficult as she first thought. After Astrid showed her a few times, Brielle easily tamed the strands into thick braids that cascaded down her back.

When Brielle refused to wear the nice things Leif gave her, Astrid didn’t back down.

“What is that?” she asked, eyeing Brielle’s tattered cloak. “Enough.”

The worn leather was coarse beneath her fingertips as she clung to her old cloak. Almost too comfortable in Leif’s space, Astrid plucked a handful of garments from their homes.

“Off,” she said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t riffle through Leif’s things,” Brielle mumbled, hoping to stave off the inevitable.

“His space is my space,” she said, pushing the old garment off Brielle’s slender shoulders. “Leif is my kin. My older brother.”

Too stunned to stop her, Brielle allowed Astrid to continue undressing her until her bare nipples pebbled in the air. Blush colored the swell of her breasts as her fingers flexed at her sides. Astrid nodded in approval before pulling the soft linen underdress over Brielle’s head.

“Do you have any other siblings?” Brielle asked when words found her again.

Now that she was paying attention, she saw it. Both shared the same, kissed by moonlight hair. Whereas Leif’s eyes were more silver, Astrid’s were an icy crystal, each reminiscent of winter waters.

One calm.

One stormy.

“No. Only us.”

Sparks spit in the hearth, punctuating Astrid’s rough handling of her as she finished dressing Brielle in far too much finery.

For such a tiny thing, she had the strength of any man. It was unlikely that anyone questioned that petite woman when she was determined.

“Now you look like úlfr’s kona,” she said, admiring her work.

“What’s a kona?”

“It means many things,” Astrid said, waving her off. “We should enjoy the sun before it gets too cold. Come.”

The sun sat high in the cloudless sky. Weeks ago, it appeared winter would be upon them earlier than usual. Yet, it seemed to stay its hand, the final dredges of autumn hanging on.

In the early mornings, frost stuck to the grass, melting away by midday. Brielle hummed as the sun heated her face, deciding not to pry more for now.

The settlement embraced a sort of frenetic energy. The air vibrated with the clang of hammers. Carts filled with grain and fish rumbled along the well-worn tracks in the dirt path. Women laughed, their faces pinkened, and with baskets full of harvested goods tucked under their arms.

One girl, barely knee high, wobbled with a bundle of wood precariously teetering in her arms. A tall, statuesque woman stood above the girl, stroking her fingers through the little girl’s hair, keeping a steadying hand on her.

Those were two of the people Leif told her about. The ones who had been relocated from a smaller outpost. At night, while in bed, Leif shared many things with her.

Where she had grown up, women weren’t included in conversations. Information wasn’t shared. Here, it was given without Brielle even having to ask. Leif did not hide things from her.

While helping him cleanse the sticky mess from his face, he told her of the men he had killed. About why he had done such a thing, and asking her if she forgave him. If the blood woven into his scars bothered her.

With only the scent of them and the fire, she held him, assuring him there was nothing to forgive. The lives taken by his hands only endeared her to him, making his arms the safest place she’d ever known.

Maybe it was a sin to find peace in the hands of a man like him, but she welcomed whatever punishment came from her choices.

Loud voices carried over the hilltops, breaking Brielle from her thoughts. Astrid giggled at the young children running through the streets.

“Someday,” Astrid murmured.

“You want children?”

“Oh, yes. I pray Freyja does not give me tiny Amunds or Leifs. I fear I wouldn’t survive.”

The ends of her braids slipped through her fingers as Brielle fought a smile. Images of the three of them as children running through the village as others did now made her heart swell.

“How did you and Amund find each other?”

“Leif and Amund grew up together. As close as brothers. Trained together. When Amund asked Leif for permission to court me. Leif broke Amund’s nose.”

“What?” Brielle shrieked.

Astrid only laughed, clutching her chest.

“It was needed. A young Amund was entitled. He thought he deserved me. Leif showed him he had to earn me. And now he is my sun, and I am his moon.”

A tiny force barreled into Brielle’s legs, making her stumble. She caught the young girl before she tumbled to the ground. Bright green eyes twinkled in the sun.

“For Konungr’s kona,” the little girl babbled.

A delicate crown of twisted juniper and rowan lay in her tiny hands. As the girl bounced from foot to foot, she placed the tiara of wildflowers atop Brielle’s bowed head.

“Thank you,” Brielle said, the buds' petal soft beneath her fingertips.

The bustling hum of the village quieted into an eerie silence.

Stones shook under footsteps as a broad figure blocked out the sun.

The blacksmith, Styrr, glowered at them, his forearms crossed over his chest. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably at the lingering glare he raked over her.

Astrid stiffened, the furs of her cloak brushing Brielle’s face.

Styrr spat at her feet as Norse words spilled from his mouth, each one louder than the last.

Cold sweat itched her palms, but Brielle refused to show any weakness. Through sheer will, she forced her heart to calm, keeping her features relaxed.

Astrid hissed, passionate fury falling from her lips as she dared to step into Styrr’s space. When she was done, Styrr scowled before storming toward his workshop.

Every eye followed him.

Slowly, ambient conversations flowed again, children laughing, and the confrontation forgotten.

Still huffing, Astrid mumbled to herself, pulling Brielle in her wake.

“What did he say?”

“It is nothing,” Astrid said, threading her arm through Brielle’s. “You need to eat.”

“Astrid. Tell me,” she demanded, blocking their progress. “I’ve never seen you that upset.”

“Styrr is a pathetic boy who is jealous of úlfr. Always been.” Air puffed past Astrid’s lips with a slow breath. “He said my brother can dress you up in pretty things all he wants, but you’re still a hora. And you would be better suited as his thrall, tending his pigs, than as our Konungr’s kona.”

Heat tingled in her fingertips, but the words did not sting like Styrr hoped. Instead, they hardened her. Not everyone wanted her here. That was as true here as it was anywhere. Even in the place where she was born, many found her presence bothersome.

“I’m guessing hora is not something I want to be called.”

Astrid snorted before her shoulders sagged.

“Styrr is among those who does not believe Leif is worthy of being Konungr.”

“Why?”

“Some preferred a time when the clans were disjointed, allowed to spill blood and take thralls. Leif ended that practice. Some believe it makes us weak.”

“There are others, besides Styrr?”

“Yes,” Astrid said. “Styrr is the most vocal here, but there are others scattered throughout the outlying villages. Leif lets Styrr live out of pity because he defeated Styrr’s father for control of the clans.”

Brielle’s eyes widened, her heart falling into her stomach.

“When my father died,” Astrid said, her breath catching. “It wasn’t guaranteed that Leif would become Konungr. Only the strongest rule. Blood means nothing if you are weak. Styrr’s father challenged Leif. He did not survive.”

“So, Styrr is angry? Holds Leif responsible for his father’s death.”

“Yes and no. It is our way. Even as a boy, Styrr was entitled. He was jealous of Leif as the son of the Konungr, finding any reason for him not to be fit to rule. You being his kona is just another excuse.”

“Will you tell me now what kona means?”

A flash of pink colored the tops of Astrid’s cheeks as she sucked on her lower lip. Voices around them grew louder as small children chased each other.

“Sometimes, it means woman,” she paused, reluctantly continuing. “Others. Wife.”

“Wife,” Brielle said, tasting the sound of it on her tongue. “People think Leif and I have married?”

“No. Not formally. Anyone can see it, Brielle. You and Leif are bound by soul and stars. Will you deny it to me? To your sister.”

Brielle had been an only child growing up. After spending much time alone, she often dreamed about what it would be like to have an older brother to protect her or a sister to guide her. Warmth swam in her belly, filling her with a good feeling until Styrr’s outburst was forgotten.

Clouds thickened overhead, flakes of snow falling and melting when they hit the ground.

“I won’t deny it,” Brielle said, the snow cold on her lashes.