Cenric sat with his knees spread wide, one hand resting on the table. He noticed her looking at him and met her stare. “Hello, wife.” It was strange to hear another man call her that. A man who wasn’t Paega. “Enjoying your wine?”
So he had noticed her sinking into her cups? Brynn held eye contact as she finished off what was left in her hand.
Cenric quirked one eyebrow at her.
Brynn raised her cup for the servants to refill.
Her mother would be furious when she learned Brynn had gotten a divorcement. Brynn needed to be remarried before then. Lady Selene was in the far southern empires, so she might not be back until next spring. She might not come back at all if she met with misfortune along the way, but Brynn doubted the gods would be so kind.
The servants carried in a rack of venison. Aelgar did his duty, stepping up to carve it as the host ought to do. The venison was so fresh, Brynn could feel the dying whisps ofkastill in the meat. The animal would have been alive just a few hours ago.
“Having second thoughts?” Cenric asked, tone mild.
“I am prepared to do my duty,” Brynn answered flatly.
“That makes two of us.” Cenric jerked his head to the servants, pointing to his own cup. The young man filled it quickly, not making eye contact with either of them.
Brynn tried not to think too hard about the implications of his words. Cenric would not leave her alone on their wedding night,she was sure of that. She didn’t expect him to be particularly gentle, either. But he might at least make it quick and that was something to hope for.
Hands shaking, Brynn held her cup out. Without a word, the servant filled it a fourth time.
Cenric studied her as other servants set trenchers of meat in front of them. They weren’t thralls as they would be in certain parts of the kingdom, but free men and women paid to serve the king’s household. Aelgar had been trying to put an end to thralldom in his lands—one of his more idealistic endeavors—with mixed results.
“Why would you go through with this?” Cenric asked.
Aelgar had finished carving the meat and had joined his wife at the head table. A skald had entered the room at some point. The lanky man with grey hair sat strumming his harp, telling the story of Eponine and Moreyne, the sister moon goddesses and their civil war.
Brynn was tired. The wine had done little to drown the knot of dread in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t in a place for intelligent conversation. “Why would you?”
Cenric inhaled a deep breath. He drew his eating knife and began slicing apart the venison in front of him.
Snapper whined from under the table and Cenric tossed down a large portion of meat for the dog. Brynn noticed that he fed Snapper the choice cuts, not scraps. The dog slurped appreciatively from the floor.
Brynn kept drinking, not touching her food. She’d rather bed him on an empty stomach. Voices chattered, though it might have just been the buzzing in her ears.
Someone toasted to her and Cenric. There were halfhearted cheers.
Wassa left the room at some point.
The “feast” lasted barely an hour or so before a young woman tapped Brynn on the shoulder. She recognized the girl as one of the handmaidens who had helped her prepare earlier.
“Your bridal chamber is prepared, lady.”
Brynn glanced to Aelgar. Her uncle must have had the room prepared as soon as possible. He was quite eager to get this over with. She wanted this over with, too, but she wondered again if he wasn’t eager to be rid of her.
“Show us the way.” Cenric pushed back his chair, leaving a half-eaten rack of venison on his plate. He waved down his men who started to rise. He held out a hand for Brynn.
She stared at his hand—callused with dark lines around his fingernails. A scar slashed across his palm, like it had once been sliced open.
Brynn fit her hand into his—hers looking pale and dainty by comparison. All the same, Brynn was unsure which of them was more dangerous.
Cenric bowed to the king and Eadburh. He stopped just long enough to whisper a command to the red-haired man who had accompanied him. The smaller man nodded his acknowledgement.
Esa stared with wide eyes as Brynn was led away by Cenric. Brynn forced a smile for her maidservant, trying to be reassuring.
Snapper trotted happily after them. Did that dog follow Cenric everywhere? Brynn was starting to think he did.
Eadburh’s handmaiden led them from the room. The fortress was dark and only the candle in the handmaiden’s hand lit the way. The floor seemed to buck as they walked. Brynn’s head swam and she realized she had drunk too much.
