“Her colour is better and the pains have passed.” Rhiannon sighed. “Please come and see her.”
“I will come when I can. I must do as Arne requested.” Which was true. Although she was tempted to disobey him, with the arrival of the fishermen, it was important for her not to take any risks for Aoife’s sake. This time, at least. Neither did she wish to face Arne’s displeasure. And as Rhiannon was with Aoife, Gemma went into her own room as ordered.
She was relieved to see Caelin was already there, sitting on his bed. He looked up when she entered, but his face fell when he saw her. He had clearly hoped for someone more interesting. “I wanted to watch what was happening,” he said.
“I am sure Elisedd and Einar will tell you all about it later.”
“It won’t be the same.” He folded his arms and glared at the floor.
“You know we need to stay hidden.” Gemma sat beside him and hugged him.
“I don’t want to hide anymore, Mama. I want to be like everyone else.”
She closed her eyes as his small arms wrapped around her. He hugged her back and blinked away tears. She was failing him, but what could she do?
Last summer, her brother, King Rhun, had persuaded her she and her son would be safer in Car Luel. On the way there, however, they had been abducted and taken to Alt Clut, where a communityof Britons, unhappy with Rhun’s rule, were hiding. They planned to build an army led by Lord Marcant, murderer of Aoife’s father, and ultimately install Caelin as king in his uncle’s place, but with Marcant as the real power. Thankfully they had failed and Marcant was now a fugitive and his army dispersed.
Gemma and Caelin had escaped thanks to Lord Cenydd, Aoife’s cousin and her father, Cadell’s, successor, aided by the Norse. After their escape, however, she should have gone directly back to her brother and insisted on Caelin being allowed to regain his own lands. But she had not. Lord Cenydd had warned her against it, seeming to fear she was in as much, if not more danger from her brother than from Marcant. So she had remained here with the Norse and since then all had been quiet. She wished she knew what the right action to take was. Every choice was fraught with risk.
Aoife had welcomed them, and for now Kirkjaster seemed like the only place they were safe. The Norse showed no interest in using her son as a bargaining chip, nor in plotting to put him on the throne of Strath Clut in Rhun’s place, as her own people might have done. The price of that safety was having to remain hidden whenever anyone arrived at the settlement. Few knew her true identity, although any passing Briton might recognise her and if that happened, either Rhun or Marcant might come to take her back and make Kirkjaster a target in the meantime.
Everyone here would be far safer if she and Caelin left. Caelin was too valuable to remain free forever. She sighed. No one cared about either of them, not really. Only about what they might gain from controlling them.
She opened her eyes at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Someone knocked softly on the door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it. She tensed, thrusting Caelin behind her as she stood and turned to see who it was. Arne.
“Who do you think you are barging in here?”
“I knocked.”
“You didn’t wait for an answer.”
“No.” He closed the door behind him. He gestured for her to sit but she didn’t. He sighed. “What is wrong, Caelin?”
Gemma moved Caelin in front of her, but the boy kept his face against her dress, probably not wanting to let Arne see his tears.
“He is missing out on the excitement. I have told him Elisedd and Einar will tell him all about it later.” She frowned at Arne, hoping he would understand, and indeed he seemed to as he kept his gaze on her rather than looking at Caelin. The strange mix of kindness and suspicion confused her. “How is Aoife?”
There was a long silence in which Arne opened and closed his mouth a few times. “My mother says pains like she is describing are common in some women and may go on for weeks yet.”
Had the situation been different, Gemma would have laughed at the expression of discomfort on his face as he spoke of things more commonly kept to women’s conversations. Still, she appreciated him telling her.
Gemma nodded, pursing her lips. “I am worried about her.”
“Really?” His gaze on her was steady and his distrust palpable. Then it flicked to Caelin, and the hard line of his mouth softened slightly.
“Of course.” She stood up straighter and lifted her chin. Who did he think he was to insinuate that she didn’t care? “Aoife is my friend. She does not look at me as if I were a traitor.”
His eyes snapped back to her face. “Then why did you go to the beach?”
So he was back to being suspicious? She took a deep breath, trying not to let him upset her. “I told you. Aoife asked me to fetch Ragna.”
“You could have sent Rhiannon. Or one of the boys.”
She opened her mouth to retort, then realised he was correct. Instead, she shook her head. “I didn’t see any of them.”
His eyes narrowed.
“We came in as soon as Einar noticed the boat,” said Caelin, standing up and turning to face Arne, as if to defend his mother. “I did not see my mother. You always told me to go in as fast as possible if strangers came, and so I did. Elisedd and Einar will tell you I’m telling the truth.” Caelin’s defiant posture made her proud of him.
