His expression tightened, and Osana watched a shield rise between them. Despite the hearth behind her, it suddenly felt cold in the alcove. When Aldfrith spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion. “Aye, but that is my decision to make.”
Chapter Twenty-three
No Place For Me Here
“WHAT HAPPENED AT Lindisfarena?”
It was the question that Osana had been dreading, although she knew Lora would ask it eventually. She glanced up from where she was stuffing clothes into a pack. “Surely you’ve heard the news.” The bitter edge to her voice made her wince. Anger turned her waspish.
Lora’s mouth thinned. “The thegns’ wives have been in a huddle since they returned from the burial, but they don’t share their gossip with the likes of me. If something befell you there, I’d prefer to hear the news from you.”
Osana frowned. “I’d rather not speak of it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s … humiliating.”
“Better I hear it from you then. Once those women are finished embellishing their tales, it will have no bearing on reality.”
Osana sat down heavily upon her furs, her fingers digging into them as if to anchor herself. “I was exploring the monastery alone,” she began, her voice low and flat, “and ventured into the scriptorium. Aldfrith found me there. We talked and then …”
“You coupled?”
Osana clenched her jaw. “Aye, that’s right … wecoupled. And after it was done, Bishop Wilfrid walked in on us.”
Lora’s face blanched. “Woden’s chariot! That’s unfortunate.”
Osana ran a tired hand over her face and tried to ignore the anger that still simmered in the pit of her belly. She longed to take a rod to the bishop for his deliberate humiliation of her, both upon Lindisfarena and when they returned to the fort, but instead, she was the one who was to be punished. “That’s why I’m leaving at first light tomorrow.”
“Has the king ordered you to leave?”
Osana nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her throat now ached from the emotions she was suppressing.
Lora’s expression clouded. “I was afraid this would happen. The way he looks at you … he was never going to leave you alone forever.”
Osana rose to her feet and resumed her packing. Her movements were jerky and rough as her anger spilled over. Beyond their alcove, the excited chatter that had erupted after their arrival home from the burial had died down. However, tales of today would circulate for many days to come.
“Do you think he’ll wed that whey-faced maid of Mercia?” Lora asked.
“He should. He’s better suited to an arranged marriage than wedding for love. Aldfrith reviles emotional attachment.”
“Why?”
Osana shrugged, resisting the urge to reach up and massage her temples. A dull throb had taken up residence inside her skull. It hurt to think. “Something in his past scars him. He wouldn’t speak of it.”
Sympathy flitted across Lora’s open face. Yet Osana was not in the mood for anyone to feel sorry for her, any more than she wanted another apology. A lifetime’s worth of fury surged up within her.
Not once in her life had she been allowed to simply be herself. Her parents had forced her into a role she had never wanted, as had her sisters. Then Raedwulf had tried to shape her into his idea of the dutiful wife. Every time she had ever spoken up for herself, or expressed her needs, there had always been someone there to tell her how she had to behave.
She had thought Aldfrith different, yet he was just like all the rest.
“I’m leaving at first light tomorrow,” Osana said finally, her voice flat, “alone.”
Lora’s face froze. “No, you’re not. I’m coming with you.”
“No, Lora. You must stay here.”
Lora placed her hands on her hips. However, despite her aggressive stance, her friend’s eyes glittered with tears. “The king won’t let you travel unescorted … it’s dangerous.”
