“And when she left?” Freya asked gently. “Did you feel the empty nest?”
“Not exactly.” Bryn sought the words to explain. “Her leaving home gave me the chance to go off on my own.” Bryn’s smile turned wistful. “Books were always my escape, but suddenly I was free to move about the country.”
Hilda chuckled softly. “And so you came.”
Bryn nodded. “And so I came. And what an adventure it’s been thus far.”
There was a pause, almost peaceful, until Freya, in her calm, unthinking way, said, “Sven never really helped with Erik’s upbringing. He was always too busy working with his father,who was king of course. I’ve always worried about him raising his own children with no experience. Alitta actually raised her concern on the idea of it, with the ritual coming up and all.”
A sharp pain suddenly lodged sharp in Bryn’s chest. She blinked. “Ritual?”
Hilda darted Freya a look. “You’ve said too much.”
But Freya only sighed and smoothed her skirt, more in tune with her thoughts than paying attention to her mother. “It’s more of a tradition. More symbolic than binding, really, unless there’s a child, obviously. A necessary formality to appease history.”
Bryn swallowed hard.More symbolic than binding.And was Sven trying to have a child? Her throat burned. “Alitta?”
Again, Freya paid no attention. Her nostrils flared a bit. “Sven’s chosen one. At least for now.”
“Freya!” This time Hilda got through. “This is not the time.” Hilda patted Bryn’s hand. “You mustn’t let that trouble you. We are not admirers of Alitta.”
Not be troubled that Sven’s engaged?“He’s getting married?”
“Maybe,” Freya said absentmindedly. “That remains to be seen. But she’s not right for Sven, nor for this family. Believe us, Bryn, it is formality only.”
“Pray that’s so,” Hilda mumbled.
“But he’s engaged…” Hot tears blinded her. Bryn couldn’t stop the twist of jealousy that clawed at her ribs. Formality or not, Alitta was the one whose name came up beside Sven’s. Alitta was the one chosen.
“It’s not what you think.”
“It’s more of an arrangement.”
Both women talked at once. Bryn tried to control her features but apparently failed because Hilda reached out and grabbed her hand with surprising strength.
“You are different,” the older woman said, her gaze steady. “You’re kind and loving. That matters more than lineage.”
Before Bryn could say anything else, a pounding on the door startled them. Before anyone could answer, the door slammed open and hit the wall with force. A young girl stumbled inside, pale and breathless. “Forgive the intrusion,” she begged when she caught sight of them.
“What is going on, Mara?” Freya demanded.
Mara ignored her and her eyes darted to Bryn. “Miss Bryn,” she said in a rush, bowing her head, “you must come with me. Now.”
“What’s wrong?” Bryn’s pulse raced. She rose slowly, Hilda’s hand slipping from hers.
“What is it?” Freya repeated, her voice sharp.
“Please. There’s no time.” Mara reached out and beckoned Bryn to hurry. “We must hurry. The king needs you.”
Bryn pushed her chair back. “Where is he?”
“Dr. Martin is with him in the meeting chamber. We must hurry.”
“What’s wrong with Sven?” Hilda asked as she struggled to stand.
“I don’t know.” Mara’s voice trembled. “He’s very ill, and Dr. Martin sent for Miss Bryn.”
Bryn hurried toward the door. Regardless of the conversation, if Sven needed her, she would go. She had no idea why they would call for her, especially if he was committed to Alitta. It made no sense, but she would not tell Sven no if he felt like he needed her.
