“I was young.” Brynn’s voice turned sad again. “I thought my mother knew best.” She glanced down to her hands. “My mother has many opinions, and she wants everyone to share them.”
“I see,” Cenric said, though he didn’t, not fully.
“It was little things for the most part,” Brynn continued. “She wanted me to always wear red in public, as is proper for a sorceress. I was to wear ermine in the winter, especially when receiving guests. No pigs at our table unless they were wild boars, and she always sent us a list of recommended visits and gifts to surrounding shires.” Brynn paused, blinking several times before she went on. “They were called recommendations, but I know my mother meant them as orders.”
“I see.” And this time Cenric thought he did see, at least in part.
Brynn swiped a hand over her face. She might be batting away tears.
“Some people might say that you’re ruining your life in order to get away from her.”
Brynn didn’t argue like he expected. “Some people might.”
“But?”
Brynn almost whispered her response. “I need a husband.”
“You need protection,” Cenric corrected. That seemed to be the truth of it. Brynn needed protection from her mother, from the schemes of the Istovari Mothers, and maybe even Aelgar.
Brynn looked to their port side and the expanse of trees sliding by. Her jaw had gone hard.
“You need not worry.” Cenric followed her gaze across the water, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Marrying a sorceress would solve many of his problems, but it might create a host of new ones. That did not change that he’d committed to Brynn, and she seemed committed to him, or at least this course of action. “I protect what’s mine.”
Unlike Paega,he wanted to add. Cenric had only Brynn’s version of events, but that so many people agreed with her did not reflect well on the man.
Brynn cleared her throat. “Even from the Valdari?”
Cenric laughed at that. Several heads turned in his direction, but he waved them back to their work.
“You are mocking me.” Brynn sounded wounded.
“Not at all.” He shook his head. “Yes, from the Valdari, too. Especially from them.”
Brynn looked askance.
“Like I told you, my mother was Valdari,” Cenric said. “I was sent to foster with her brother not long after I was weaned. His name was Hróarr. His wife was Venya.” Cenric watched her reaction carefully, but she gave him none. It was impressive how well she could do that—drain her face of emotion. “They raised me like one of their sons and I loved them like my own mother and father.”
Brynn remained still. “And you raided with them?”
Cenric quirked one eyebrow. “Does it make a difference that I did?”
Brynn held his stare, not blinking, still not giving anything away.
“We never raided Hylden,” Cenric conceded at length. “My uncle felt it would be discourteous to his sister.”
“Where did you raid, then?” Brynn’s tone turned hard. Some of that steel he’d seen at their first meeting showed once again.
“Do you really want to know?” Cenric wasn’t going to defend himself to her.
At the same time, he found he genuinely wanted her approval. He didn’t need it. She’d gotten herself into this situation and she could make her own peace with it. But…
“Northern Kelethi. We took sheep and goats. Not much else worth taking in those parts.”
Cenric’s uncle had wanted to go further south, but Venya had forbidden it.You can take those boys into real danger once they have beards to braid,had been her demand.
“Then my uncle was murdered,” Cenric said quietly. “A nearby jarl came in the night. He burned my uncle’s longhouse with most of the family inside.”
Cenric’s uncle had sworn allegiance to Ovrek, the first king of Valdar. His jarl had not appreciated that.
