Page 43 of Heart of the Wolf

“Would you like to hold your daughter?” Brielle asked, moving the tiny bundle closer to Leif.

A weight settled into his arms as he rose.

Instincts took over, and he supported her head while cradling the rest of her body close to his chest. Unshed tears stung his eyes as he stared down at the bundled girl in his arms. The baby continued to coo and cry as Leif swayed her, but it only made his smile grow.

“Litill úlfr,” he whispered, brushing his lips over his daughter’s forehead while rocking her.

“We have to give her a name,” Brielle said, her lashes fluttering on the cusp of sleep.

“Rest.” Leif shook his head. “Be patient; she will show us her name when she is ready.”

***

Over the next two weeks, Brielle slept when she could, which wasn’t often.

Their daughter was restless. Even in Brielle’s or Leif’s arms, the crackle of cries didn’t cease.

Between nursing and soothing her, Brielle never rested.

Whenever she felt like she was going to break down, all she had to do was look at the crystal blue eyes in her arms, and a calm breeze eased her teetering resolve.

Leif had Amund oversee the clans while he hunted, spending all his remaining time with them. Scarred arms rocked their daughter, taking her on walks through the village to show her off while Brielle stole a few minutes of precious sleep.

Even if she protested as the bundle left her embrace.

“Give her back, she’s mine. I made her,” Brielle pouted.

“Ours, kona. I distinctly remember being there when we made her.”

***

Brielle

Whenever Brielle asked about a name, Leif smiled and said, “Not yet.” And Brielle relented to him, content with showering their daughter with kisses, feeding her, and rocking her until Leif was ready to name her.

After a solid night of sleep, Brielle washed and braided her hair while Leif murmured a story to their daughter.

Appreciative eyes roamed over, drinking her in greedily while she changed.

Any lingering concerns she had about her new body disappeared when Leif stared at her like she was the only source of water in a desolate plane.

“The ships are on the horizon,” he said, his voice gruff with command. “Will you and our daughter welcome them with me?”

Brielle nodded, slipping into a delicate silk dress for the first time since their daughter was born. Leif carefully maneuvered their daughter into one of his thick arms.

“Come here,” he said, extending his free hand to her.

Unable to deny him, Brielle joined him on the bed, relaxing into his hold. His palm skated behind her head, threading his fingers through her curls. A low, needy sound rumbled in his throat as he claimed her lips in a bruising kiss that left her wet between her legs.

“I love you,” he groaned, his thumb stroking the nape of her neck.

“I love you, úlfr,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Wear this.”

A necklace that mirrored the one Herja destroyed glittered in his outstretched palm. The glass twinkled, accented by shards of amber, but in the center sat a beautiful viridian stone. The jewel was smooth beneath her fingertips. Brielle sighed, lacing it around her throat.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, cradling the center stone.

“Like you, my kona,” he beamed.

Leif paused, inhaling a deep breath.

“Hjartae mitt,” he started, his voice dropping an octave. “We are welcoming the ships but also making a statement with our family.”

“úlfr?”

“Put on your finest cloak. Einar is on one of those ships,” he said, continuing to rock their fussing baby.

Acid burned the back of her throat, and Brielle forced down a rough swallow, clearing the vile taste from her mouth. She blinked furiously, sharing a brief, knowing look with Leif before rising from the bed with a chaste kiss to his lips and one to their daughter’s forehead.

Regardless of what she had urged Leif to do. The decision was his alone; no matter what his choice, she would support him. Publicly, at least. Privately, he would have to deal with her ire if he chose to spill blood when there was another solution.

From the far side of the room, Brielle grabbed her ornate cloak, the ceremonial one she rarely wore.

Gold threads glinted in the sunlight from the smoke holes as she fastened the wolf clasp at the hollow of her throat. She wrapped a leather bodice around the silk dress, the one adorned with amber and viridian that matched the necklace Leif had gifted her.

Once she was ready, she took the baby from him, pacing about the house until he was ready.

At her side stood a Konungr.

A cream-colored tunic of the finest silk highlighted the sharp cut of his jaw. Strapped to his chest was a thick leather covering, each buckle lined with silver and gems. Hitched on his hip sat a large ceremonial axe.

A massive hand rested on the small of her back, keeping her close as he guided them to the sandy outcrop by the shore.

Their daughter babbled happily in her arms as warmth brushed over the dimples on her back.

When they arrived, much of the village was already there, waiting for the longships that would anchor in minutes.

Everyone smiled, cooing sweet noises at their daughter as they dipped their heads in greeting.

Amund and Astrid waited for them where the forest met the shore, grass and sand intermingling.

Amund’s green eyes froze on Leif’s axe and their attire.

The muscles across his shoulders twitched as he raised his chin.

“úlfr,” Amund greeted in a low tone.

While Amund and Leif exchanged hurried words, Brielle eyed Liv toward the front of the crowds with Vala at her side. Andri would be returning not only to his wife but to an adopted house guest as well.

Chuckling to herself, Brielle rocked their daughter while Astrid played with one of the little girl’s fingers.

Water splashed as the anchors dropped into the shallow shores, the massive ships coming to a halt with a loud groaning noise.

The summer sun streamed above them, clouds thin in the midday sky.

Once all three ships stopped, Leif steered Brielle toward the front until the three of them were positioned at the bow of the centermost ship.

A group of men dropped a long wooden plank, slapping it against the wet sand.

A mess of black hair emerged from the ship first. Andri’s green eyes twinkled when he found Liv, fresh scars flanking the old ones on his face. When his gaze found Leif, his face turned stern, his lips pressing into a thin line as he moved down the plank.

“Konungr. Dróttning,” he said, bowing his head in their direction. A smile grew on his cracked lips at the sight of the bundle cooing in Brielle’s arms. “Little one,” he whispered to the baby.

“Andri,” Leif greeted warmly, grasping the other man’s forearm. “All is well?”

“Yes, úlfr. We have a hull full of goods and lost no one.”

“Where is Einar?”

The low urgency in his tone did not go unnoticed as Leif shifted the conversation, already done with pleasantries.

“There,” Andri pointed at the smaller of the three ships. “Would you like me to fetch him for you?”

“Yes. I want him presented before us.”

In a flash, Andri disappeared onto the other ship. The general din of voices quieted into a distant hum as everyone watched them. Soon, only the waves lapping the shore and their daughter’s quiet cries were audible.

Roughly, Andri pushed the ragged man down the plank. Sallow skin clung to his bony cheeks, a menacing scowl etched into the curl of his lip. Stringy braids hung around his face while greasy strands flowed along his back. In one hand, Andri held a spear he hadn’t had before; Einar’s weapon.

Andri deposited Einar before them, disappearing into the crowd. The man was tall, but not as tall as Leif. A mad glare glinted in his eyes, and Brielle worried that she might have been wrong in her plea to spare his life.

Callused fingertips brushed protectively along the curve of her spine until Leif gripped her hip, hugging her to his side.

“Konungr,” Einar said as if it pained him.

“Einar,” Leif said in that deep, commanding tone that made her belly tighten. “May I present my beautiful kona, Brielle, and our daughter. I thought you would like to meet them personally, seeing as your wife tried to kill them in your absence.”

All the color, what little there was, drained from the man’s face.

The confident scowl vanished, replaced with wide eyes and a rapidly thumping vein in his throat.

The sand shifted as Leif took a determined step forward, placing his massive frame between Brielle, their daughter, and Einar.

Two hands wrapped around the stunned man’s shoulders as Leif forced him to his knees.

Gulls squawked overhead. Brielle remained hidden in Leif’s broad torso. His long fingers closed around the hilt of the axe on his hip while the other kept the squirming man still beneath him. Einar begged and told tales of how he knew nothing about what his wife did.

“Vala mentioned as much,” Leif snapped, motioning at her. The young girl took tentative steps toward them, looking better in the few weeks she had spent with Liv. “Tell him what you told me,” Leif ordered, the command gentler.

Vala swallowed a lungful of sea air, focusing on Leif and not her former master. “Herja spread lies and venom among the clans, calling Brielle,” she paused, looking down.

“It’s alright,” Leif said.

“A hora, not worthy to marry our Konungr. Einar usually ignored her ramblings, calling her mad.”

“Thank you, Vala,” Leif praised, kissing the top of her head endearingly and sending her back to Liv. “Two paths lay before me. One where I sever your head from your body.” Leif held the blade aloft, removing his grip from the man who kneeled before him.

“Listen to the thrall,” Einar said, voice trembling. “She tells the truth. I had nothing to do with Herja’s treachery.”

“She is a thrall no more,” Leif hissed. “Your wife kidnapped my kona, my daughter, and the jarl’s wife, and we killed her for her crimes.

” Einar didn’t flinch at the mention of his dead wife.

“And by the blessings of the gods, you are being spared a similar fate.” A hushed gasp echoed through the assembled clans.

“But you still disobeyed me. Taking thralls. You are to be separated from clan and kin. Banished and marked Skóggangr. If you ever set foot in our lands again, your life will be forfeit.”

Fear receded in Einar’s dark eyes. Replaced instead with an emptiness that almost made her pity him.

Maybe death would have been a kindness. He would be forced to survive on his own.

In a few months, an unforgiving winter would arrive, and without the support of the clans, he would starve.

His death would be painful and drawn out.

“Leave,” Leif hissed, gesturing toward the woods.

With one fleeting glance, Einar took the offered spear from Andri, his slouched form soon disappearing into the thicket.

Using his thumb and forefinger, Leif wiped the rivulets of seawater off his blade, shucking them to the ground with force before tucking his axe in his belt. Amund was at his side when Leif whispered something, and he nodded along to it before clapping him on the back.

“Let us go home,” he said, kissing her temple. “We are done here.”

***

Later that night, Brielle startled awake. The amount of undisturbed sleep unsettled her, thrusting her body upright. She patted the furs beside her, surprised to find them empty and cold. The fire in the hearth roared with fresh flames, as if someone had just stoked it.

Sitting up, Brielle saw no signs of Leif or their daughter. Icy tendrils squeezed in her chest, chilling her blood. Too quickly, she stood, making her dizzy as she worked to steady herself. She tossed on a simple dress before clicking a cloak in place over her shoulders.

She closed her eyes, humming a calming breath. Leif would die before letting anything happen to their daughter. He had likely taken a walk with the fussy baby, letting Brielle sleep.

Heat spiderwebbed out from her chest, replacing the chilling fear that choked her. Her palm rested over her heart, focusing on the slowing beats before she stepped out into the cloudless night.

Like so many times during her pregnancy, Brielle followed her feet until they led her to the clearing where wildflowers bloomed.

Standing in the center of the valley was her wolf, their daughter cradled in his thick arms. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird at the sight of him, so imposing, regal, yet gentle and protective of their little girl.

Brielle shuffled beside him, brushing her warm hand down his exposed biceps, squeezing.

“Hjartae mitt,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “You were meant to be sleeping.”

“I was,” she murmured, smiling as she ran a thumb over their daughter’s pink cheeks. Those blue eyes were closed, and there were no cries or coos; their daughter rested. Soundly. “úlfr,” she said, cocking her head and furrowing her brows. “She is sleeping?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, the sound warm as he carefully shifted the little bundle.

“I only meant to show her the valley, but the moment we arrived, she dozed, and I didn’t dare to move.

It seems our daughter sleeps best under the moon and stars.

Perhaps that is why this was the only place you could rest while she was in your belly. ”

Brielle smiled, leaning into Leif. “She is perfect.”

“She is,” Leif echoed. “And I think she has told us her name.” Brielle looked up, Leif’s eyes sparkling with silver in the moonlight. A long silence stretched between them as Leif brushed the wispy hairs off their daughter’s face, adjusting her closer to his chest.

“Astra,” he said. “Of the stars, is she not?”

“Astra,” Brielle echoed in agreement, remembering how she mentioned that name weeks ago, after it came to her in a dream.