Jarl Eirik ended up staying for the better part of a month, leaving only when the weather broke. The weeks had been filled with tests and obstacles, all meant to prove to Annis that Rurik was not a good choice for her or Glannoventa. There had been physical trials during the days—could Rurik wrestle whichever man the Jarl put forth that day? Could he swim in the freezing sea faster than the Jarl’s best swimmer?—while the evenings had tested his intelligence. Was he capable of strategy and scheming to win at all sorts of games from board to dice? Could he match wits with the Jarl’s men or even the Jarl himself?
Every night in the hall he was forced to hold his own as he was plied with drink. Frequently, he was goaded into composing a lyric of poetry cleverer than the man next to him. Afterwards he would often stumble to their chamber with Annis at his side. Sometimes they would undress each other and fall into bed in a haze of pleasure. Other times he was so exhausted from the day’s trials that he was asleep before she pulled the blanket over him, but he would always make it up to her in the morning. He delighted in waking her in different ways, his hands and mouth finding all the parts of her body that made her sigh and moan.
As the days passed, Rurik had found himself anticipating when the Jarl would leave and he would have her to himself. He could scarcely believe that he had found a woman who matched him in every way. He was looking forward to starting their lives together and figuring out what it would mean to govern Glannoventa together, a challenge he had never anticipated but was firmly embracing.
However, as the time grew close for Jarl Eirik to leave, Rurik would find Annis more and more withdrawn. It would happen at odd moments, such as when he would come upon her unexpectedly alone. She would tense, her eyes far away as if thinking of the past. After a moment, she would come back to him. The pain in her eyes would slowly give way to joy as he kissed her or whispered to her.
He thought that perhaps she missed her old life, her husband and the babe that had never truly lived. But then she would seek him out among the warriors, her eyes shining with love, and he would think that he was wrong. She did feel affection for him and it was a connection that deepened every day. He had resolved to give her a babe to love as soon as possible, his own selfishness to have her to himself be damned.
Now, several days after the Jarl had left, he led the men through their paces. He had been surprised at how skilled the warriors were with their weapons, but he should not have been. Cedric was a diligent leader and had taught them well. Rurik had been focusing on training them in grappling techniques, the most recent one a simple move that would allow them to take down an opponent who outweighed them. As he called out a correction, his eye was caught by flaming red hair as his wife turned the corner of the barracks. Cedric followed her, his face thunderous. She walked with the single-minded determination of someone bent on leaving a tense encounter.
Wondering what they had fought about, he indicated that the warrior next to him should take over and followed her towards the house.
‘Annis,’ he called as he approached her from behind.
She wiped at the corner of her eye as she paused and turned towards him. ‘Rurik.’ Her eyes were troubled, but she did genuinely smile at him.
Something had been wrong for days, but he had hoped it would pass over like a summer storm. Instead, it seemed to be one of those storms that came in deep winter and settled, never happy to leave until the whole world had been very nearly blighted out. Instead of questioning her there in the open, he put a hand to her waist and guided her around the corner of a building to afford them a bit of privacy.
Instead of speaking immediately, he engaged in one of his favourite pastimes of late and kissed her, allowing his lips to nibble at the corner of her mouth. ‘You are unwell?’ he whispered, gratified when she opened to him without coaxing, seeking more of his kiss.
‘I’m not unwell,’ she said, drawing back only to answer before kissing him again. Then she put her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. ‘How is this possible? How are you mine?’
He smiled and ran his palms up and down her back, holding her closer. ‘It is fate. Our lives have been threaded together from the beginning. We simply didn’t know it.’
She jerked back at that, her brows pushed together as she stared up at him. Not understanding what about that bothered her, he gently stroked her brow line with the pad of his thumb. Inexplicably, her eyes glistened.
There was the look again. The one that told him deep down that something was amiss. It had scared him every time he saw it, because it made him think that their time together could be at risk. It was a feeling he could not explain. More than fear.
‘What is it?’ he asked, taking a deep breath, suddenly certain that whatever she would say would change everything. ‘What did Cedric say to upset you?’ He resolved then and there to take the matter up with Cedric if she wouldn’t confide in him.
‘Do you remember on the night of our wedding that I wanted to tell you something?’ Her bottom lip trembled.
His gut knotted and he touched her face, needing to feel her skin against his. Nodding, he said, ‘I do.’
‘I wanted to tell you before...but then Jarl Eirik came and it seemed that there was too much facing us.’
‘You can tell me anything, Wife.’ A flash of pain crossed her face and he tightened his hold on her. ‘Is it about the assassins?’
Rurik had intentionally not mentioned them again. It wasn’t that he had given up on revenge or hunting them down. It was simply that they had found peace and a sort of happiness in the few days since the Jarl had left and now he was reluctant to let in the outside world. There would be time to find the men later when winter had left and the risk of hunting them down wasn’t as great.
She nodded. ‘In a way, but it’s even more than that.’ Her gold eyes were shining up at him, asking for forgiveness, but he didn’t understand why that could be.
‘What is it, Annis?’ he asked, hoping to relieve her of the burden she obviously carried.
She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but no words came out. Making a sound he didn’t recognise, he brushed his lips to her brow, soothing her. Her palm flattened against his chest as if savouring the beat of his heart.
‘Lady Annis!’ a woman called, her voice shrill with alarm. ‘Lady Annis!’
Annis pushed away from him and hurried around the corner of the building. The healer from the village stood there. She was an old crone with a kindly face who came up once a week to check Wilfrid.
‘I am here,’ Annis said.
‘Lord Wilfrid calls for you. He seems rather agitated.’
‘How is he? Is it another attack?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Not an attack, but he seems more confused than usual. Please come.’
Annis gave him a worried glance and Rurik smoothed a hand down her back. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, ‘Go now. I’ll find you soon.’
She touched her fingertips to his cheek before hurrying away with the woman. He watched her go, tense uncertainty roiling in his belly. He turned to find Cedric, who had disappeared somewhere, probably inside to attend Wilfrid, when Alder rushed up to him, catching his eye.
‘You must come, Lord. There is a man here. He says he is your brother.’
‘My brother?’ The words fell rather stiffly from his lips. Before he could even contemplate which one it could be, Alder solved the mystery for him.
‘A man named Sandulf.’