Rey eagerly heaped his plate with some of each, then proceeded to steal from Eisa’s plate. She struggled to comprehend that there was more, but of course there was. Baked apples with clotted cream and small, round honey cakes were brought out, and Eisa got retribution by stealing Rey’s dessert for herself. Finally, steaming cups of spiced wine were distributed, warming her down to her toes.
Once the plates were cleared, she was more formally introduced to the jarls at the high table and lost the better part of an hour in conversation. It was blissful to have her mind to herself, and as everything she’d practiced with Lady Tala came to her with ease, Eisa’s confidence only grew. She could do this. Shewoulddo this.
After conversing with Jarl Geirmundur—and recalling his wife’s name without Atli’s help!—Silla returned to her seat to find Rey having left to relieve himself. Eisa reached for her goblet of spiced wine but stiffened as she became aware that she and Atli were alone. Jaw tightening, she kept her gaze trained on the greater room.
“Your demeanor tonight makes it clear Galtung has convinced you of his…theory,” said Atli, snatching his goblet and swirling it.
“What do you mean?”
“He cornered me today and went on and on about some…letters he thinks I’ve stolen.” Atli rolled his eyes. “Sounds like he wants to blame someone for his own shortcomings.”
“Then you deny it?” Eisa flashed a smile at a passing jarl, then returned to studying Atli’s expression for any hint of deception.
“I swear it to you, Eisa. I had nothing to do with Galtung’s missing letters.”
“And your father?”
Atli drank deeply from his goblet, then placed it down with unnecessary force. “My father might have suggested I court you, but he would not be reckless with Eyvind’s welfare. What if there’d been a warning in those letters? A plea for help?” Atli shook his head, and it was clear he was both irritated and a little hurt by her accusation.
“I’m sorry,” she huffed, guilt festering inside her. Rey had been so certain Atli was the culprit, and she…she’d been swept up in his gusto. But if it wasn’t Atli or Jarl Hakon, then was it Kaeja’s doing?
“I suppose Galtung has told you of our history,” said Atli, a note of bitterness in his voice.
Eisa sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“Old rivalries. You know how such things go.”
Eisa wanted to remind him she’d grown up moving from town to town and that she hardly knew howanythingwent. But she sensed there were things left unsaid.
Atli took a long drink of wine and frowned. “It was…” He sighed, sliding a hand along his warrior’s braid. “You know of his history with Kaeja?”
Eisa’s gaze raked through the crowd, picking out Kaeja’s vibrant blue gown with ease. Rey had just ambled back into the hall, and it was clear Kaeja had spotted him. Eisa’s brows dropped low as the black-haired beauty sidled up to Rey and slid a hand along his arm. She’d made no secret of wanting him back. Had she stolen the letters to cause strife? But Rey only scowled and shook Kaeja’s hand free.
“He’s told me of their entanglement,” she said cautiously.
“Did he tell you she was with me as well?”
Eisa’s gaze whipped to Atli. “No.”
A rueful smile spread across Atli’s face, but it was edged with a certain…sadness. “I do not like to speak of it, but I feel you, above all else, are owed the truth. And if Galtung hasn’t enough honor to tell you, then I shall do it for him.”
A cold pit opened up in Eisa’s stomach.
“He was dealt a blow in the sparring grounds that he deemed unfair. And so, I suppose he thought it retribution, stealing Kaeja away from me.”
“Stealing…”
“He lured her to his bed when she was mine.”
Eisa felt herself making a decidedly unqueenly face. “Atli,” she started, then sighed. “I thank you for sharing this with me, and am sorry you were hurt. But…” She sorted through her words, choosing them wisely. “But Reynir Galtung would never force a woman, which can only mean Kaeja went of her own free will.”
It was clear no matter how carefully chosen, Eisa’s words had not landed softly. Atli’s gaze turned sharp, and his chair scraped across the floor as he pushed to his feet.
“Atli—” she started, discomfort twisting in her stomach.
He bowed stiffly, avoiding her gaze. “Excuse me. I require some air to clear my mind.”
And with that, Atli departed.
