Page 20 of Heart of the Wolf

Chapter ten

Brielle

In the week between Leif’s announcement to the clans and the feast, he spoiled Brielle, lavishing her with silk tunics, woolen dresses, finely crafted leather bodices, and an array of beautiful furs that she tried to turn away.

It was too much, and she couldn’t accept them. Leif refused her, filling the chests in his home with more clothes and adornments than she ever needed.

Also, he granted her a newly crafted spear and an intricately carved bow. The runes on the bow matched those of the ones on the first sword he gifted her.

“For my strong girl. We will practice. Find which you like best.”

The hands around her waist held her tighter as her fingers bounced along the points of the spear. It was far lighter than she imagined. She smirked, imaging herself hidden in the leaf litter, drawing the bowstring back to her lips.

A stolen sword was her only option up to this point. Now, with all these choices, she was curious which one she would favor. Leif stroked the column of her throat, chasing the gooseflesh he left with his teeth, grinning at the shiver he caused.

“While I am gone today, will you check on the families we brought back? Make sure they are comfortable and settled.”

The women were reluctant to trust anyone, keeping their children locked away in the homes Leif had given them.

He left them to grieve, not wanting to force his presence on them.

That didn’t mean he would allow them to believe they weren’t welcome here.

They were as much a part of the clan as anyone else.

However, she expected him to send Astrid, not her.

“Why me?”

A low hum vibrated her spine. He kissed her pulse, leaning back to braid her hair. She relaxed into this touch; their morning routine of him tending to her before leaving now well established.

“You are my kona.” She opened her mouth to correct him, snapping it shut when he tugged her curls in warning. “Do not fight it, Brielle. If anyone can make them feel safe here, it is you.”

Maybe she’d be able to bridge the divide.

Leif had killed their husbands. While it was ultimately because of their cowardice and to offer better protection to the families under his rule, they likely hadn’t seen it that way.

Not yet. If they were already uncertain, the Konungr arriving at their doorstep would frighten them.

But his wife would be seen as a peace offering.

Even if, technically, she wasn’t his wife yet.

“I will do it. I’m not sure how much it will help. But I will try. What are you doing today?”

His lips grazed her temple, his beard a faint rasp on her skin as he rose. She watched greedily, appreciating the toned lines flexing on his stomach while he dressed. When he caught her, she didn’t flush, instead leaning in to get a better look.

He chuckled, securing the clips on his leathers. “This morning, we’ll ensure all the clans have enough supplies to last the winter. The deep freeze has held off, but it won’t for long.”

The furs brushed her knees, and she dipped her fingers into the waist of his breeches, attempting to drag him back into their bed. His gaze darkened, flicking between her lips and the place where she touched him.

“You are bold,” he said, his voice low and tinged with heat.

“And whose fault is that?”

With a silent, shaking laugh, he raised a brow in her direction, and she took the opening to offer some advice.

“Send people to forage where the forest meets the sea. Herbs are abundant there. The spray from the ocean keeps them plentiful. After a day’s work, their baskets will overflow with willow, yarrow, and sage. Enough to heal all the clans through next spring,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said, letting his lips linger on her cheek. “So clever and so needy. As much as I want to crawl into this bed with you and spend the whole day making you mine, I can’t. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

***

Brielle descended into the heart of the village, her fingers rubbing the smooth stone dangling from her necklace. For a moment, she thought of her father. By now, he likely believed her dead, having never returned from the forest. To an extent, she was. That version of Brielle no longer existed.

The young English healer who craved her father’s affections vanished that day in the woods. Instead, she was to marry the Konungr. Now someone capable of wielding a blade. Now able to braid Leif’s hair in the evenings, like he did for her in the mornings.

Every night, he brought home fresh game, feeding her from his fingers.

Every night, he took her to his bed. A bed that would soon be theirs.

Every night, he wrung pleasure from her until she sobbed his name.

And every night, she slept soundly in his arms.

Traversing the pathways of the village on her own felt foreign.

Usually, she traveled with Astrid or Liv.

Eyes tracked her movements. Some with curiosity, some with intrigue.

Children weaved in and out of her legs, chasing each other.

Mothers scolded those same children, murmuring light-hearted apologies that Brielle waved off.

Nobody treated her differently on her own than when Astrid escorted her. In fact, with the announcement of her marriage to Leif, many gifted her small trinkets. She accepted them all gracefully, not wishing to offend anyone as she made her way to the homes by the meadow.

Rows of closed doors greeted her. No sign of life behind them. Her fingers closed around her fur hood, hitching it higher on her head. Sticks crunched under her feet, each step louder than the last. Smoke billowed from the roofs, and she knocked on the first door.

A long silence stretched out, and she debated knocking again until she heard the patter of quiet footsteps, followed by a few stunned mutterings in Norse.

As the wood groaned open, her hands started to twitch. Astrid tried teaching her the Norse words, but she still struggled with them. How was she supposed to converse with these people? Brielle panicked, worried they were going to end up staring at each other in awkward silence.

Bright sapphire eyes widened, glancing at her. The door opened fully to reveal a tall, slender woman with beautiful, thick raven braids waterfalling down her back. A tiny girl poked out from behind the woman’s legs, disappearing back into the home after being scolded.

“Dróttning,” the woman breathed, dipping her chin to her chest respectfully.

Brielle’s shoulders stiffened, identifying the honorific. Astrid had taught her that one. Once she and Leif were married, she would be the Dróttning to his Konungr. Technically, she wasn’t that yet, but she didn’t want to correct the woman, risking making her uncomfortable.

“Heill,” Brielle said.

“If it helps. I know English words,” the woman said, and Brielle unclenched her jaw, more at ease.

“Thank you. I am learning our language, but I’m slow,” Brielle laughed, relieved when the woman’s eyes crinkled. “I am Brielle. What’s your name?”

“Hrafna.”

Hrafna toyed with the sleeve of her tattered dress, her eyes looking everywhere but at Brielle. Leif made sure all the relocated families had shelter, but what of food and clothing? The woman’s dress looked more worn than Brielle’s had when she arrived.

“None of you have been out with the rest of us. We’re worried. Is everything alright? Does anyone need anything? I can help.”

Hrafna bowed her head. “We did not wish to offend with our presence. Our husbands and brothers disrespected our Konungr.”

“You are not them.” The words came out harsher than she intended. Brielle clutched Hrafna’s arm, squeezing it gently. “Do not isolate yourselves as some self-inflicted penance.” As she nodded, Hrafna’s throat bobbed. “Good. I expect to see you at the feast.”

“Yes, Dróttning,” she murmured.

“If you or anyone needs anything, come find me and I will see that it is taken care of.”

With another dip of her chin, Hrafna disappeared back into her home. Words only went so far. Brielle intended to provide them with additional comforts to ensure they trusted her and, by extension, Leif.

On her way back to the longhouse, she bumped into Astrid. Under one arm, she balanced a basket full of grain. With the other, she pulled Brielle into a brief hug, pecking her wind-pinkened cheeks.

“Astrid. Is it possible to have a winter’s worth of food and new clothing sent to the families by the meadow?”

“Brielle, you are to be the Dróttning,” she said, her mouth thinning into a severe line. “If you will it, it will be done.”

“Who do I ask?”

“You don’t ask,” Astrid smiled. “You tell. I will see this done before the sun sets.”

***

Later that night, Brielle sat in front of the fire.

While watching the flames dance, she played with one of Leif’s furs, comforted by his scent.

Whenever he wasn’t home, Leif sent a young girl to ensure she ate, still complaining that she was too skinny.

It didn’t matter that since her arrival, her ribs no longer poked out.

Slow footfalls moved toward her.

“Forgive me for leaving you so alone.” Strong arms wrapped around her chest, urging her up until all she smelled was pine and leather.

“I understand.”

“Still. It displeases the gods when a Konungr does not serve his kona properly,” he said, his voice muffled as he burrowed his face in her curls. Her stomach clenched, and she scraped her nails over his leather-clad torso. “I hear someone had many supplies sent to our new kin.”

A jolt zapped her, and she stiffened, unsure whether it was a question or an accusation. Perhaps she had been too rash. Just that morning, Leif mentioned concerns about supplies for the winter. Fingers slid through her loose curls, fisting them and she whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her chest constricting under his unflinching gaze.

Two fingers dusted under her chin, gripping it softly. His thumb slid over her lips, and the tension coiled in her stomach unknotted. Warmth snaked around her limbs, making her pliant in his hold.