Avelynn: The Edge of Faith (29 page)

If Sigy was right, I needed to obtain a personal possession of Marared’s—something I could enchant or use to channel the magic. I rubbed my foot back and forth. While it would be easiest to ask Sigy to provide me with such an object, it seemed prudent to keep my intentions secret. I thought of Angharad. I didn’t want to involve her in any of this. She didn’t need the specter of witchcraft hanging over her head, but she might be able to help me discreetly obtain something of Marared’s. I didn’t know if Marared was capable of magic. Everything pointed to her using manipulation and herbs to affect her aims. There was no sorcery involved in that; however, I couldn’t prove or disprove the theory, either.

I was tired of running. I itched to confront Alrik and put this conflict behind us. The promise of Eadfrith’s letters buoyed me with hope, and the need to fight back boiled hard in my veins.

I rolled onto my stomach. I was a high priestess now. It was time to find out what I could really do.

The storm sputtered itself out in the early hours before dawn. The sky loomed dark and brooding to the southeast, but only a drizzling mist remained. I left instruction for a page to deliver my possessions forthwith, but I wanted speed. Every moment Alrik was alone with that manipulative bicche was one too many. Rhys offered me a swift horse—a gift to the Lady Sigy, he’d said.

Sigy’s messenger took the lead, and we followed the road back to Lampeter. With the mountains forever towering into the sky on our right, we made Llanbadarn just before dusk.

A sprawling royal center, many of the outbuildings had been turned into cottages for esteemed guests. Others of the noble gentry would sleep in the hall or find lodging with crofters in the village. The remainder would sleep under tents or the starlit sky. Campfires stretched into the night, flickering like fireflies.

Grooms whisked our horses away to the stables, and the messenger showed me to Sigy’s cottage.

A chambermaid answered our summons at the door. The messenger stepped inside. “My lady, the mistress Avelynn.” He bowed. I slipped past him through the door, and he scampered back out.

Sigy laid a hand on her heart. “I am so relieved to see you. Please, have a seat.” She snapped her fingers and another maid stepped forward, offering me a drink.

I declined, holding up my hand. “Where is Branwen?”

“She’s en route to England and will remain in Northumbria with Eadfrith’s family. Marared has exposed a shameful secret. My patience for her behavior has reached its limit.”

I was glad for the child. She would do well to be far away from both Marared and Eadfrith.

A knock on the door announced the arrival once again of the messenger. He bowed and held the door open. Marared and Gil stepped into the room, followed by Alrik. I closed my eyes, shoring up strength.

“What is she doing here?” Marared spat the words as if I were a vile insect.

“Avelynn?” Alrik looked like a spooked horse.

I ignored them both and rested my hands in my lap, my attention on Sigy.

“Everyone sit,” she commanded.

Alrik and Gil found chairs opposite from Sigy. Marared crossed her arms and refused to budge.

Sigy raised an eyebrow but otherwise dismissed the act of defiance. “Alrik, there has been a misunderstanding as to Branwen’s parentage.”

“Stay out of this, mother.” Marared’s voice prickled with ice.

“The child is Marared’s daughter, it is true—”

“I’m warning you.”

Sigy stormed to her daughter and grabbed her hair, yanking her into the center of the room. “And what will you do, daughter?” Sigy set Marared away from her as if she had defiled her hand just touching her. “You are finished. Your behavior toward Alrik, your threats, and your pageantry stop here. You will do as I say, or so help me by the gods, you will regret it.”

Marared’s lip trembled.

Sigy’s face flushed, her eyes wide. “I have sent a letter to Abbess Frances. You will abide in Bangor. You have undermined me for the last time.”

“Hyffaid will never stand for this.”

“Your uncle has no bearing on what transpires here.”

“And how will you explain my sudden disappearance? What of my betrothal. I’m Hyffaid’s favorite. You can’t just toss me aside.”

“Would you rather I inform the court of your death?”

Gil stood. “Marared, please. Do as mother bids. Collect your possessions and leave. Do not antagonize her further.”

Marared shook off Gil’s assistance. “You always preferred Gil. He could do no wrong—the perfect son.”

“Gil honors my wishes. He cares about what happens to our family. You care only for yourself. Now leave my sight. Get out.”

Marared buzzed with hostility, and her focus narrowed on me. I swallowed. If she was capable of magic, I could well imagine her setting me to flame or choking the very life out of me with only her glare. I refused to let her intimidate me and made a point of maintaining eye contact with her as she made her way to the door. She was the first to look away.

“You’ll regret this. You’ll all regret this.”

Sigy closed the latch behind Marared. “I’m sorry, Alrik, but my daughter has deceived you. Branwen is the result of a tawdry coupling between Marared and the English priest, Eadfrith. She seduced the fool, believing one day she could convince you the child was yours. Regardless, we could not have the child’s true parentage come to light. Marared’s prospects to strengthen our family’s ties hinged on her desirability. Prospects that have since come to naught. I’m sure you can understand.”

Alrik’s face wore an expressionless mask, but his hand curled at his side. I handed him the note. “This is from Sister Frances. Her own words will confirm Sigy’s statement.”

He glanced at the note. “I see.” He tucked the vellum in his satchel. “Thank you for your honesty.” He bowed to Sigy. “Gil.” He nodded by way of leavetaking and held out his hand to me. I moved to his side, but refused to acknowledge the gesture. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the tightening of his jaw. I walked through the door without looking back.

I didn’t make it very far before he tried to steer me in a different direction. While I didn’t know where I was going, I knew where I wanted to be, and it wasn’t with Alrik. I needed to find Angharad. I moved closer to the main hall. It was dark, but torches had been lit, and Sigy’s cottage wasn’t far removed. I could make out the hulking shadow of the hall from where I stood. Angharad’s cottage could be any one of the buildings I passed.

“Where are Angharad’s chambers?” I didn’t want his help, but I also didn’t want to be stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. He’d know where it was.

“We need to talk.”

“Where is it?”

“Avelynn.”

I ignored the pleading in his voice. Part of me felt vindicated, hearing it. “Where.” I stopped and glared at him.

He pointed to one of the larger framed buildings a stone’s throw from where we stood.

“Thank you.” I nodded and set off. For a moment, I thought he was going to let me go. Part of me screamed at him for not trying harder, but then he stood in front of me, barring any further progress.

“Let me explain.”

I locked my arms across my chest. “You can try.”

Leading me by the arm, he weaved through a few smaller buildings, most likely granaries or weaving sheds. He stopped in front of a circular structure. Using his shoulder and body weight, he pressed and pushed until rivets tore away from the wood and he forced his way in. Locks didn’t stop Vikings. I heard some rustling and grunting and then caught a spark, then another, then a faint glow, growing brighter. He drew me inside and shoved the door closed behind us. The air smelled of fresh cream and the tangy, pungent notes of ripe cheeses. He’d let us into the buttery. Linen-wrapped rinds, barrels, and pitchers packed the tight space. An iron holder affixed to the wall held the rush light.

He turned to me, and the hard lines of his face deepened with shadows. There was not a lot of space to maneuver. If we held hands and reached our arms out to our sides, we would each touch a wall.

“I was only trying to protect—”

“Enough. I am not yours to protect.” The raised volume of my voice bounced back off the rows of cheese and butter and settled louder in my own ears. Alrik flinched, but I let it all go, as if a cork released. “If you want us to be together, you need to understand I am capable of taking care of myself. Before you, before this mess with Demas and Osric, I had the respect of an entire village. I governed in my father’s stead. I handled disputes. On Odin’s eye, Alrik, I led men in battle.” I waved away his burbling objection. “Battles are fought. Some are won; some are lost. I held that wall all morning. I would have continued to do so if I’d not been betrayed. I don’t need you to look out for me. I don’t want you to. You need to afford me the same respect as Tollak or Cormac. You would never coddle them like children. You’d let them fight their own battles and make their own mistakes. You’d fight by their side, with honor. Do not show me any less respect.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. He looked like a fish out of water. And perhaps he was. My chest heaved. I still had a lot of fight left in me. I wanted him to yell back—I almost dared him to try.

His lips pinched together, and he took a deep breath. “I did not believe Marared’s claims. I only used them as a means to convince you to leave.”

“Why?”

“She bade me meet her in the glen. When I got there, she was covered in blood, the entrails of a stag laid out before her. The wriggling mass steamed in the morning air. She flew at me, spewing foul curses over my head. The world spun. I sank to my knees. She drained me of my strength. I could do no more than look up at her. Had voices not carried close by, Marared would have stayed and stolen my soul. She left me there on the ground and slipped into the trees.”

“How is that possible?” The thought of Alrik being helpless turned my own legs to seaweed.

“I misjudged her powers and thought only to send you away. I have done you a disservice.” He stepped closer and tucked my hair behind my ear. The back of his fingers brushed my cheek. His hand fell impotent at his side. “I have never met anyone like you. I tried to shield my mother from others’ judgements and cruelty. Even the girls in my village or those at Ragnar’s court were silly things. I do not have a great deal of experience with shield maidens.” He looked at me with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. I felt a rush of pride, and my anger deflated like a pricked swollen bladder.

He sighed. “I will endeavor to do better. If you will still have me.”

I wanted to slap him. Instead, I reached up on tiptoes, drew his face closer, and kissed him. Hard.

After a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tighter.

I pulled back. “Whatever Marared’s powers and threats, we will confront them together. But I’m warning you. Do not—ever—treat me like that again. Do you understand? You are mine, Alrik Ragnarson. No one else’s. And if you try to push me away again, I may decide to never come back.”

“Part of me died when I saw you walk away. I will not let you down.”

That would remain to be seen, but at this moment, I saw only him and my need to make him understand. My mouth was urgent against his, and he pressed me up against the door. I locked my legs around his hips while he tugged one handed at his trousers. I fought against the wedge of our bodies to hike up my skirts. When fabric no longer impeded our progress, he slid inside me.

His movements were tender and gentle, and I growled in frustration. My body craved a passion so raw it verged on violence. I unlocked my legs, and pushed him onto the ground, straddling him. I rode him hard, fisting his tunic. I needed to possess him. He was mine. I leaned down and kissed him, biting his lower lip, sucking it into my mouth. All my hurt, grief, and anger boiled over, and I poured my dolor into each touch, each frenzied thrust. Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I moved faster, yoking our bodies, merging our souls.

He rolled me onto my back and drove into me, each stroke a mixture of pleasure tinged with pain. I reached under his tunic and clawed at his back. He pressed harder, and I met each strike, each beat an echo in my healing heart. I couldn’t get close enough, deep enough. I clung to him as if I were stranded at sea and he was the only land for miles.

When I finally crested the wave of desperation, I felt him ride with me. One final press, one final push, and we both crashed and roiled with the foaming surf. He collapsed at my side, panting. I rested my head on his arm as he drew me closer, holding me tight.

“I am sor—”

I held a finger to his lips and closed my eyes. “I know.”

We lay there in silence, each absorbed in our own thoughts. The rift between us was mending, but it was time to put an end to Marared’s schemes once and for all. I needed to speak with Angharad.