Page 24 of Tears of the Wolf (Wrath and Weeping #1)

Cenric

Honorable, generous, and brave? Cenric’s chest might as well have glowed with the swell of pride.

After last night’s foretelling, he’d pushed Hróarr and the mercenaries to rush home to be sure she was safe. His one comfort was that Morgi only sent him foretellings of things he could prevent, which must mean there was still a way to save his wife.

Perhaps the foretelling was a warning of Brynn’s mother.

He didn’t like that Selene was trying to talk her out of their union, but Brynn had warned him of that. He liked it less that Selene had chosen to insult his wife in her own home.

But Brynn had defended him. She’d praised him, even if it had been to slight Selene. Despite everything that happened before he left, some part of her still thought highly of him. She wanted to stay with him, at least.

Cenric led the way, swelled with excitement even though he wasn’t sure how Brynn would respond to his “gift.” Hróarr had cautioned him quite a bit.

“What’s this?” Brynn walked behind him, her puppy tucked under one arm.

Up ahead, Hróarr and several of his Valdari came up the path to meet them. Hróarr swaggered, thumbs in his belt, Vana at his side.

“They are bringing your gift,” Cenric answered.

Snapper trotted happily in a large circle, sniffing at the ground and greeting the other dogs. As usual, he was oblivious to the impending violence.

Hróarr stepped aside and two Valdari marched forward, leading a bloodied and bound figure between them.

Hróarr’s men forced their captive to his knees. Svendi resisted, but like all his efforts over the last day, it was useless.

Esa hovered beside the Valdari warriors, even paler than usual. She looked to Cenric, then back to Brynn.

“Cenric?” There was fear in Brynn’s voice.

Cenric stepped to the side, giving her a clear view. “This is Svendi, formerly a mercenary in the service of Ielda.” He looked to Esa, then back to Brynn. “The raiders attacked Leofton. We killed or repelled most of them, except one.”

Brynn’s eyes snapped to Cenric. Her face was neutral, but there was something intent, something coiled tight and ready to spring. A she-wolf about to pounce. Whether she was about to pounce on him or his captive, he wasn’t sure, but he kept speaking.

“The raider had this ring.” Cenric held out the gold piece to her, still smudged with dirt.

Brynn took it with shaking hands and turned it over, studying the object patiently, deliberately.

Cenric waited. Hróarr and his men waited. Svendi waited. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath.

Then Brynn lowered the ring, clenching it in one hand. “How?” she rasped, her voice trembling.

“The raider told us he’d gotten it from a man who sails with the mercenary Ielda. We found Ielda in Kyrna, where he plans to winter.”

Brynn remained focused on the bloodied mercenary on his knees before them.

Cenric spared another glance for Esa. “Ielda also told us who killed the alderman’s son.”

Svendi let off a string of curses, but a kick from Hróarr’s men silenced him.

Cenric nodded to Esa. “As soon as we docked, your girl confirmed it for us.”

“It’s him, lady,” Esa whispered, grasping Brynn’s arm as she came to stand beside her. “That’s the man who killed your son. I swear it.” Tears welled in the girl’s eyes.

Svendi tried to struggle again, but Hróarr’s men held him in place.

Brynn still didn’t speak. She pushed Esa to the side, gently but firmly. “Hold Guin for me.”

Esa took the puppy, though the small animal whimpered in protest.

All her attention on Svendi, Brynn stepped toward him. She moved slowly, but it was the slowness of a predator closing in.

“You killed my son?” Brynn’s voice was a whisper, a rustle.

Cenric repeated the question in Valdari. “She asks if you killed her son.”

One of Hróarr’s men stomped down on Svendi’s foot, making him yowl in pain.

Svendi spat, adding curses in Valdari. “What if I did, bitch?”

Cenric didn’t translate, but his wife seemed to understand.

Brynn shook her head, looking down to the ring in her hand.

Svendi writhed in his captors’ grip. “Not her.” He looked to Cenric. Seeming to realize he wouldn’t receive any quarter there, he looked to Hróarr. “Don’t let me be killed by a woman. Please.”

Hróarr grunted. “Is that not good enough for a self-proclaimed baby killer?”

Svendi looked back to Brynn. Like all warriors, he knew death followed him like a shadow. But most assumed that their death would come by an accident, illness, or the hands of another warrior.

Brynn was a warrior, in her own way. Cenric saw no shame in letting a man meet his death at her hands, but Svendi disagreed. He struggled, but Hróarr’s men held firm.

“Why?” Brynn whispered, her voice little more than a whimper. “He was just a baby.” She shook her head, eyes misting. “He couldn’t have done anything to you.”

“She wants to know why you did it,” Cenric translated.

“Why not?” Svendi tried to spit again, but they hadn’t given him water and it seemed he was running out. “He was right there. Marked out in those fine little clothes with embroidered edges. Did you make those for him?” Svendi had given up begging for his preferred executioner and now seemed set on taunting Brynn. “Well, then know you marked him for death yourself, whore.”

Cenric belted a fist into Svendi’s teeth. Blood flew from the raider’s mouth.

“Cenric.” Brynn grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side. “No.”

Cenric wasn’t about to let a prisoner insult his wife, even if she didn’t understand the language.

“I don’t want this.” Brynn tugged Cenric away from the prisoner.

Cenric jabbed a finger at the Valdari captive. “He just confessed.”

Tears flooded Brynn’s eyes. She shook her head quickly.

This was not going at all the way Cenric had expected.

Hróarr muttered under his breath in Valdari. “I told you so.”

Cenric searched his wife’s face, more confused than anything else. Nothing could bring back murdered loved ones, but in Cenric’s experience, vengeance was the next best thing.

Brynn tilted her head back, her nose reddened and tears sliding down her cheeks. “This isn’t what I want.”

Cenric wanted to give her what she wanted. He would give her anything she wanted, but he’d thought this the greatest gift he could give her and now she stood whimpering and backing away. He had made a terrible misjudgment of his wife. Now half the shire appeared to be looking at them along with Hróarr and his entire mercenary company. Embarrassment shot through him, mingling with confusion.

“What would you have us do?” Cenric asked, doing his best not to sound frustrated.

“I just—”

A man yelled.

Snapper barked.

“Cenric!” Hróarr bellowed.

Svendi leapt off the ground, having wrenched a knife from one of his guards. He barreled straight for Cenric.

Cenric shoved Brynn out of the way, raising his forearm to block the knife slash.

Svendi’s entire body went ramrod stiff. It was like stakes had been driven through all his limbs. Fear flooded the raider’s eyes along with confusion. His legs buckled and he hit his knees even as his arms remained reaching for Cenric.

Brynn had gotten her hands on the man’s wrist, her nails digging into his skin like talons. Her breath came in heaves, and she trembled, but her hold didn’t falter.

Hróarr’s men made to come forward.

“Stay back!” Brynn ordered. Even with the language barrier, they stopped in their tracks.

“Brynn,” her mother called to her softly, swooping in like a vulture the moment she saw her daughter’s distress. “This isn’t you.” She held out her hand as if to beckon Brynn to her. “This isn’t you, child.”

“ You didn’t fight in the war.” Brynn looked up to her mother and something in her seemed to snap. “You don’t know me at all.”

Svendi still didn’t move, and his jaw seemed locked in place. Only his eyes swam back and forth in panic.

Cenric watched with sick fascination. He hadn’t known his wife could do this.

“You think because I choose kindness, I am incapable of cruelty.” Brynn’s words were soft enough to be a caress yet held all the foreboding of a dark cloud on the sea. “But I can be cruel.” Brynn looked to Hróarr, singling him out amongst his men. She spun back around.

For a moment, Cenric thought she spun to glare at him, but then he realized she was staring past him, where her mother stood.

“I hate killing. I hate it.” Brynn looked back to the kneeling raider paralyzed in her grasp. “But I am good at it.”

Those last few words were spoken so softly, Cenric almost missed them.

Brynn grabbed a fistful of Svendi’s hair and snapped his head back. Blood sprayed and suddenly the Valdari captive was in two pieces.

Brynn held his severed head by its hair as the decapitated corpse crumpled to the ground.

Snapper and the other dogs yelped, skirting back. Gasps and whispers went through the gathered crowd. They were all used to death, but this was different. Abrupt. Unexpected. None of them had known Brynn had that kind of power.

Brynn dropped the head, her hands shaking as she stared down at the corpse.

Around them, everyone had gone quiet. A small crowd had gathered, including Gaitha, Edric, Kalen, many of Cenric’s thanes, and people from the village.

“Brynn?” Cenric stepped beside her as she stared at the bloodied ruin in the grass.

“I’m fine,” Brynn rasped, her voice strained. She didn’t look away from the mutilated corpse.

Cenric had expected rage. He had expected to see her cruelty and a victorious triumph after she took revenge.

That was not what had happened at all.

He touched her arm, unsure if she would welcome it, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought—I was wrong.”

“My son is avenged.” Brynn stared down at the corpse. “There is nothing to forgive.”

Ever the pragmatist, Hróarr picked the gold ring off the ground where Brynn had dropped it. It was a fine piece, expensive. He offered it to Brynn.

Brynn shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

Hróarr shrugged and turned to his men, gesturing at the corpse. “This ring for whoever disposes of the body.”

A man jumped forward eagerly to claim the prize.

Hróarr handed it over, nodding in approval. “And whatever else is in his pockets for whoever helps.”

Hróarr’s men descended on the body, grabbing arms and legs. Another followed carrying the head as they headed down toward the river.

“Be sure to leave it past the marker,” Cenric called after them. He didn’t want that body floating ashore and turning rancid on his beach.

Ash bounded after them, her tail wagging as most the younger dogs joined in.

Snapper sniffed at the bloody ground, tail stiff.

Brynn turned toward Cenric, her face a mask once again. “Supper should be prepared shortly. Will Hróarr and his men be joining us?”

“Yes.” Cenric studied her, the blood of a dead man staining her apron. “Are you alright?”

Brynn swallowed and he spotted that flicker of something vulnerable, something just beneath the surface. “I don’t know,” she answered, her voice small.

Cenric caught her hands. He pulled her into his chest, cradling her against him.

“You’re not afraid of me?” she whimpered, all the wrath and vengeance gone out of her.

“No,” Cenric answered. It seemed Brynn could kill a man in ways he hadn’t even thought possible, but he was a proficient killer himself. There was no more reason to fear her than him.

“I’m a monster,” Brynn rasped. “Not safe.”

“You’re a wolf,” Cenric corrected. “So am I.”

Brynn might not be Valdari and her tears might have blinded him to the danger lurking in her delicate hands, but she was a wolf as sure as he was. He should have been put off by her lethality, but somehow it felt right. Cenric was a warrior. Why shouldn’t his mate be?

Cenric rubbed her back, watching her mother and her mother’s guard as they spoke in hushed tones. The memory of last night’s foretelling came to him. “Stay close to me for the next few days, alright? I’ve had a foretelling.”

Brynn nodded, still trembling. Soft whimpers turned into quiet sobs as she began to cry.

Cenric looked up to Selene. “You’re leaving my lands tonight.”