“Stay away from me, Elena.”
She was so taken aback by his anger, she didn’t know what to say. Before she could leave, he wiped his brow upon his sleeve and apologized. “I’m in no mood to see anyone just now.”
“I came to ask for your help. But if it’s not a good time, I’ll go.” She didn’t understand what was bothering him, but she knew better than to press him. He rested his palms upon the wall for a moment, taking time to calm his temper. When he faced her, she grew nervous, seeing the dark look in his eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to ask advice from him.
Ragnar let out a breath and walked to stand before her. “What is it?”
“It’s Styr,” she admitted. “Ever since he came back, I don’t know what I can do to please him.”
A tightness invaded Ragnar’s expression. “We are not having this conversation.”
She flushed. “No, I didn’t mean...that. We haven’t—not since the baby.” By the goddess, why was she even talking about it? But the words spilled forth as if they were waves, crashing forth against her will.
“He won’t even talk to me. He’s so distant, I don’t know what to do.”
“Why do you stay married to him?” Ragnar demanded. “If you have no feelings for one another and you don’t talk, what reason is there?”
“He’s been good to me,” she said. “And there’s the baby.”
“You’re not pregnant, Elena.”
Her hands moved to her womb, and she stood up. “Yes, I am. It’s been months now. I must be.”
“I’ve had sisters who have had children. If you were truly with child, you would be much bigger by now.” He stood and returned to his hammer. “Go and speak with the midwife. She’ll tell you.”
A bleakness spread over her at the thought. Her eyes filled up with tears, and she hugged her waist. “If there’s no baby—”
“Then you have no reason to remain wed to him. Let him go, Elena. You’ll be happier for it.”
She got up to leave, feeling as if someone had cut her in half. Her eyes burned as she made her way to the door, before a hand pulled her back.
“Come here,” Ragnar commanded, drawing her into an embrace. His arms came around her, pulling her face against his. The kindness broke her apart, and she let the tears fall. Throughout the worst nightmare of her life, he had been there, never faltering in his friendship.
“I’ve already lost him, haven’t I?” she wept.
“You haven’t lost me.” His hand smoothed her shoulders, and she clung to him.
Elena was grateful for his presence, but the idea of divorcing Styr seemed wrong. She wasn’t ready to give up on their marriage. Not so soon.
When Styr returned to his house that night, he found Elena huddled in their bed. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or whether she wasn’t feeling well, but it was early yet.
But when he moved closer to see her, her eyes were rimmed with red, and she’d been weeping for some time now.
“What is it?” he asked.
She shook her head, drawing back the coverlet. “The baby.”
Fear shot through him, that she’d miscarried the child. But when she moved to sit up, her posture slumped over. “I was wrong,” she said dully. “There never was a baby. I began bleeding today.” A sob broke from her, and she continued, “Sometimes a woman doesn’t have her courses if she faces peril or times of fear.”
There were no words to console her, but Styr drew her into an embrace. To his surprise, the loss of the child hurt more than he’d thought it would. Elena wept against him, clinging hard as she admitted, “I wanted this so much.”
“I know.”
“And I haven’t been a good wife to you. Not in the way I should have.” She drew back, gesturing towards the house. “I tried to keep everything orderly. But it wasn’t enough.”
“I never cared about the house.” He kept her in his arms, understanding that her tears were about more than the baby.
“You wanted to travel across the seas,” she said at last, leaning her head against his heart. “And I never let you go.”
