She tripped as they reached a flight of stairs. Cenric caught her without a word, and she leaned on him for support.
Brynn braced one hand on the wall and let him lead her the rest of the way down. The handmaiden took them through several more passages, barely speaking. Occasionally, she stopped to wait for them.
She took them to the same room Brynn had occupied for the past weeks. The fireplace had been lit and the bed had been made. Brynn’s belongings had been neatly folded and put away in chests, but it was very much the same room.
Snapper ducked inside first. The dog circled the room, sniffing curiously.
Brynn went inside, not hesitating. She’d made up her mind to do this.
Cenric exchanged a few words with the handmaiden, though Brynn couldn’t imagine what. He shut the door after her and then they were alone—except for the dog.
Snapper plopped down in front of the fire, seeming to have satisfied himself with exploring the small room.
Brynn sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. It would be fine. It was just sex. People did it all the time and it meant nothing.
Cenric surveyed the room carefully, taking in the chests, the washbasin by the window. He went to the window first, checking to see what was outside—a courtyard. He drew the curtain over it. Much like his dog, he paced the entire room, checking every corner.
When Cenric turned back around, he was unbuckling his sword belt.
Brynn watched impassively as he removed his outer coat next, draping it over the chair beside the washbasin. He held onto his sword, though.
Brynn studied him. “Are you afraid of me, Cenric?”
He scoffed. “Any wise warrior would be.”
“My sister was the warrior,” Brynn said. “Not me.”
Cenric grunted noncommittally. “Who attacked Glasney?”
Brynn’s drunken mind reeled, confused. “Raiders.”
“Do you think they could have been Valdari?” Cenric’s question came hesitant, guarded.
Brynn shook her head. Why was he asking this? “They haven’t raided this far south since the war.” After the death of Brynn’s father, the instability in Hylden had invited raids from all their neighbors.
Worst of all had been those from the islands of Valdar in the north. The Valdari were a savage people. They called themselves wolves of the sea and rode in ships with snarling wolf heads on their prows.
“It sounds like them. Striking at night and disappearing before dawn.” Cenric studied the fire. Lights from the flames caught his arm rings. “At least that was how we did it. We didn’t raid in spring, though.”
Brynn hadn’t thought anything could shock her at this point, but she’d been wrong. She stared at this man—her husband—speechless. “You…you’ve raided with them?”
Cenric shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “My mother was Valdari. I fostered with them.”
Brynn didn’t want to process this or its implications right now. “Why are you telling me this?”
Cenric looked back to the fire.
“Ask my maid, Esa. She saw them. She was with…” Brynn’s throat seemed to constrict suddenly, and she had to force the words out. “She was caring for my son. One of them ripped him out of her arms.”
They’d found her baby’s body at the bottom of the wall. The servants had tried to stop her from seeing, but she’d usedkato force them out of the way.
Her son had looked so still and perfect, the carved wolf still held in one hand. But the moment she had reached for hiska,she had felt his life force was gone.
Brynn’s shoulders shook. Again, she marveled that she could still weep.
Cenric was quiet. He kept his attention on the fire, not looking at her. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought that expression was shame. “What was your son called?”
“Osbeorn.” Brynn’s voice broke in a sob. If she hadn’t been drunk, she might have been able to pull herself together. She was supposed to be letting her new husband—who had apparently once been a Valdari raider—bed her, but instead she was melting into tears.
