“The sorceress Selene.”
“Yes,” Brynn confirmed. “My mother never married Eormenulf, but he acknowledged my sister and I.”
“That’s all that matters.” Cenric wondered if she noticed those tendrils of hair brushing her neck. Could she feel them? “Why didn’t you go back to her, Brynn?”
This morning, he asked in the city about Brynn’s mother. Selene was powerful, and revered. She was not yet the Istovari Elder Mother, but many thought she would be someday. Selene had friends and allies from Hylden to Mynadra in the far southern kingdoms. She could have arranged a much wealthier man for Brynn’s next husband. One who lived in much safer lands, too.
“I don’t want to go back to her.” Brynn seemed to focus harder on her work, if it was possible.
On Cenric’s other side, Snapper laid down, snout resting between his paws. The dyrehund sent an impression of utter contentment and happiness.
“You have a right to my protection, as my wife,” Cenric said. “I will do all in my power to keep you safe, but Ombra can be dangerous. We are raided more than anyone else.”
“Every decision we make is one between safety and freedom, in one way or another.” Brynn blinked quickly. “I traded the latter for the former far too quickly last time. In the end, it was for nothing.” A muscle in Brynn’s cheek tightened as she clenched her jaw.
“Done, lady,” her maid said, voice soft.
“Good.” Brynn inspected the girl’s handiwork. “Excellent. Return these to Daven.”
The girl picked up both boots and scurried off.
Learning his men’s names already? Impressive.
Cenric studied her. She was mesmerizing with the sea wind in her hair and her skin smooth as butter. Lovely.
“You think being a border lord’s wife will be freedom?” Cenric wanted her to know the truth. If she had idealized life in Ombra, he’d debase her of those notions quickly. He loved the northern land with its rugged peaks and mighty rivers, but it was harsh. Most of their farmland barely got them by and while the grazing in the hills was good for sheep and cattle, they had to constantly fend off raids from Valdari and sometimes southern Hyldish who thought they could get away with it. “It will be a hard life.”
“You think I’ve had an easy life?” The question came softly, gently.
Cenric thought back to Aelgar’s words about Brynn. About succession. He’d never thought that perhaps Brynn wanted herself out of talk of the crown as much as Aelgar did.
Aelgar was young, but he had always been sickly. He was a competent king, but his son was a toddler, and he had no other male relatives. If the Istovari wanted to make a play for the kingship…
But Cenric was a northern savage. He had no kings in his lineage, not even a far-flung legendry one. The other aldermen would never accept him as a ruler, probably not even as a consort. That Brynn seemed to have married him without her mother’s consent had probably lost her the support of the Istovari.
“You’ve destroyed your chances of power by marrying me,” Cenric said, both understanding and not.
“I don’t want it.” Brynn clasped her hands on her knees, pulling her legs closer. “And I knew what I was doing.”
She was not as helpless as Cenric had thought. She was intentionally running away.
“What do you want, Brynn?” Cenric asked, being blunt. He could be subtle when necessary, but he would be bringing her home in a matter of days. He wanted to know. “From this arrangement?” He gestured between them.
Brynn was quiet for a long moment.
The sounds of the oars creaking, dipping, and splashing took on its steady rhythm. The heartbeat of a ship. Overhead, the gulls still circled hopefully.
Brynn watched the gulls as they fluttered and bobbed on the breeze.
Cenric found himself watching her. There was softness in the way she spoke, in the way she carried herself, even in the way her full lips parted while she looked across the water, but there was a vein of iron underneath.
“I am prepared to do my duty as your wife and as sorceress to the people of Ombra.” Brynn kneaded her fingers in her skirt, head down. She had not answered his question.
Cenric kept his attention on her, though she still stared ahead. Always ahead. “Don’t lie to me. And don’t keep secrets from me. I will do the same with you.”
Brynn took just another moment before she nodded. “Very well.” She pulled her knees against her chest, hugging her legs.
Cenric could see now that many of his fears had been unfounded. Brynn came with her own wounds, some of them still bleeding. Her family might still be a problem, but they might not. She’d gotten drunk on their wedding night, but he forgave her for that, all things considered.
