“It’s good to see you out here,” Tyra smiled warmly. “I’ve missed training with you.”
Tyra’s comments garnered a grunt from Freya, but Freya turned back to Gressa. She studied Gressa, and when Gressa did not flinch, Freya nodded.
“I would have a word with you, Gressa,” Freya said.
“Very well.” Gressa agreed without breaking her eye contact with her former friend.
The two women stepped away as Erik and Strian tensed, watching their wives walk away together.
“Freya won’t do anything to harm Gressa,” Tyra reassured. “She only wanted to protect you, and you frightened her when you said you wanted to remain in Scotland.”
Strian looked over his shoulder at Tyra and knew she was right. The argument that ensued when Strian said he wanted to remain in Scotland after finding Gressa had been a bitter one, and it was the only time in any of their lives that Freya used her rank as the jarl’s daughter and leader of their expedition. Strian could only imagine Freya’s, and everyone else’s reaction, when he told them he and Gressa would leave for a new home in Wales. He turned back to watch his wife and his friend speak. There were no raised voices or punches thrown, so he considered that a win.
“Gressa, I know I owe you an apology for what I said and how I acted at the Ross keep, but I won’t apologize for wanting to protect Strian. I can’t imagine what you endured being injured and stolen away, but I do remember what happened to Strian. He barely spoke the first six months we were back. He trained harder than I had ever seen, thinking we would return to Scotland soon and that he could search for you. We didn’t for several years, and resentment began to fester within Strian. He was short tempered and drank too much, rarely leaving your home. The one-year anniversary of your disappearance frightened all of us. He disappeared, too. He was gone for two moons. He’d gone into the mountains and built a hut where he hunted and grieved. The second year was as bad as the first, but he was willing to join us for meals in my parents’ home. By the third year, we thought he had resigned himself to you never returning. We went raiding in Scotland that year. Everywhere we went he asked about you, hoping someone might have a hint to where you were. No one ever knew, not on any of the raids after that when he interrogated anyone we captured. Each time we returned home, he would lock himself in your home for a moon. So, maybe now you can understand why I wanted to protect him. I truly don’t believe he would survive losing you again. I fear he would let go of everything, believing he has no more reason to live. Searching for you gave him purpose even if it tore him apart.”
Gressa listened to everything Freya said without interruption. She found herself holding her breath as the story progressed. These were things Strian never admitted in their many conversations over the past three days. She understood why he had not, but now knowing the truth convinced her even more that keeping her secret was worth it.
“Thank you for telling me, Freya,” Gressa’s voice cracked as she spoke. “He didn’t tell me any of this, as I’m sure you guessed since we’re speaking now.”
Gressa looked over at Strian, knowing he worried about her. She smiled before turning back to Freya.
“When I saw his father, Ivar, Leif, and Bjorn carry him away, I was sure there would be no reason to go on. I accepted that I would die where I lay. Needless to say, it was a shock when I awoke on the deck of a boat, having stitched me to prepare me for being sold as a slave. The man and woman, who I suppose saved me, saw Strian jump from the boat and try to swim back to me. I knew then that I had to fight to stay alive. I wanted to find some way, anyway, to get back to him. I was fevered and bedridden for two moons once I arrived in Wales and was too indisposed to travel for several months after. I listened to those around me who said they would never sail to a land filled with Norsemen. I listened to those who told me I would die trying to cross Britain and Scotland as a Norse woman alone. I listened and grew more defeated each time someone told me it was impossible. I would have tried running away, but I was bound to Wales whether or not I liked it.” Gressa was in danger of letting her secret slip, but if she would ever tell it, Strian had to be the first to know. “I also knew I was safer in Wales because no one knew what it meant to be half Sami. They accepted me because I was a trained warrior and a better archer than even their most well-known. There was not a day that went by that I didn’t think of Strian. Something always brought forth a memory, and it was agony those first years as the memories tried to consume me. I finally learned to live with them, but I never moved on from Strian. Never.”
Freya’s eyebrows shot up, and Gressa knew what Freya was thinking.
“Grímr threatened Strian’s life. He threatened to find Strian and torture him while he was content to just kill you and the others. He knew who Strian was to me, and I wasn’t willing to risk his threats being proven true.”
“That must have been awful for you,” Freya’s words understated the disgust and loathing Gressa had felt towards Grímr and herself.
“You will never know just how right you are.” Gressa once again glanced at Strian before continuing. “Freya, you might understand now that you’re married, but there is nothing I won’t do to keep Strian safe. It’s all I’ve tried to do since I was seventeen and he started to pay attention to me.”
Freya nodded and did something that no one expected and caused their friends to collectively gasp. She pulled Gressa in for a tight embrace and held her as she whispered.
“I’ve missed you more than you could ever know. Neither Tyra nor I were the same after you disappeared. I didn’t want to get close to anyone because I couldn’t stand feeling the pain I did after you went missing. I am glad you’re home, and I have been ever since Strian brought you to us, but I just couldn’t move past the hurt Strian endured. Or mine as well. You were my sister even if we weren’t born of the same parents.”
Gressa returned Freya embrace, holding her as though she might slip away.
“I’ve never met anyone else like you. I missed how we used to sneak into one another’s rooms at night to gossip about the boys. I missed how you always made sure I belonged. I just missed you.”
The two women hugged for another moment before turning to walk arm in arm back to their friends. Freya slid into Erik’s arms, needing the comfort of her husband after such a raw conversation. Gressa buried her face in Strian’s chest as he stroked her back and kissed her crown. She inhaled his scent and felt her mind settle.
“You two reconciled, or it looked that way,” Strian murmured.
“We did.”
The group walked to the training fields, but before anyone could begin sparring, a commotion at the gates to the homestead drew everyone’s attention. Five men on horseback galloped through the gates with three men, wrists bound, being dragged behind them. The riders reined in when they reached the training fields. Ivar and Rangvald, Erik’s father and Ivar’s ally, walked forward from where they had been sparring together. Ivar wiped his brow as the men dismounted, and they pulled the three captives forward and presented them to Ivar.
Strian blocked Gressa’s view, but when she heard Welsh being spoken among the prisoners, she pushed past Strian. She gasped before she could bite back the sound. Strian looked down at Gressa as the color drained from her face. His eyes darted to the three men before looking down at Gressa. As she stood staring at the men, she bit her lower lip to where Strian wondered if she would draw blood. Her reaction made Strian question who these men were to Gressa, and jealousy began to take root in his mind. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and pulled her against his side.
“Explain,” he bit out.
Gressa looked up at him in surprise, but his glare told her more than his words would. She looked around before tilting her head towards the back of the crowd that was forming. Strian’s suspicious expression only made Gressa’s stomach churn as dread had already seized her when she recognized the men.
When they reached the back of the crowd, and Gressa was sure no one could hear them, she gestured for Strian to stand closer as they both looked back at the crowd. They both attempted to make it appear as though they were watching the scene unfold rather than having a private conversation.
“Strian, this isn’t good. I know those men.”
“I gathered as much,” Strian cut in. “Who are they to you, and why are they here? Are they trying to rescue you? Do you belong to one of them? Does one of them miss you in his bed?”
