Page 14 of Edge of the Wild

A sobering thought. Oliver nodded. “Right.”

“Ah,” someone called. “Just the two I was after.”

It was Birger, crossing the atrium toward them, Lord Askr and Lord Ingvar flanking him.

Oliver didn’t think he imagined the way Bjorn straightened and moved a fraction closer to him, shifting into a protective stance. It was downright heartwarming.

“Mr. Meacham,” Birger greeted, and his smile managed to be both officious and apologetic at once. “My lords Askr and Ingvar have some further questions about the war they thought you might be able to answer for them.”

“ThatImight be able to answer?”

“Yes. Youareour Southerner,” Birger said, as the lords displayed matching expressions of skepticism.

Oliver was more than a little stunned…though he supposed he shouldn’t be, at this point. He knew that he had a head for facts and figures; had never been modest about his understanding of politics and negotiations. He’d always been the most studious member of his family.

Butlordsdid not come to him to have points cleared up. He was not a part of council meetings; was not sought out for official reasons.

That had all changed, though, hadn’t it?Royal consortNáli had called him, without prompt. And he’d sat beside Leif during the feast day council; at the high table during the feat itself.

He was no longer a mere bastard clinging to walls and window ledges. If he was to be Erik’s, then Erik’s people would look to him. Talking with lords was going to be part of his job, now, one that it was important he exercise with the greatest aplomb and expertise.

Birger’s look seemed to be trying to convey all this.

Oliver’s stomach growled. He stood up tall and said, “Of course. Shall we go and sit down, my lords?”

~*~

Erik found his sister fast asleep on a sofa in the common room when he passed, her face drawn and pale, her body curled into a protective comma on the cushions. She looked cold. Carefully, silently, he draped a fur over her, nodded to the maid, Astrid, and went to Rune’s chamber.

Tessa and Leif sat in chairs on either side of the bed, talking in low voices. Both of them glanced up with he entered.

Tessa, he noted, was holding Rune’s limp hand.

“Uncle.” Leif started to rise, but Erik waved him back down. The boy looked nearly as unwell as his brother, whose skin was ghost-pale beneath a fringe of sweat-damp dark hair.

“Your majesty,” Tessa greeted, quietly.

The room – scented faintly of the sick, of a patient lying in a bed, sweaty and unwell – had the aura of a funeral, Erik thought with a queasy lurch. Their whispered voices, the faint click of Hilda’s knitting needles, the sense of waiting…It reminded him too much of Herleif’s room – of Father’s, there at the last. Arne had been cut down defending Father, dead before he even hit the ground, but Father…Father had lingered. Had lain on a mattress surrounded by blazing candles whose scented sweetness hadn’t been able to drown out the stink of waste and death.

He forced the memories away, took a deep breath, and spoke at a normal volume. “How is he? Has Olaf been in yet?”

“You just missed him,” Leif said. “He changed the dressings and said that there’s only a little pus. He wants to apply a drawing salve, later.”

Erik nodded. “You should get some sleep, Leif.”

He frowned. “I have slept.”

“In that chair,” Tessa chimed in, a surprising firmness undercutting the sweet chime of her voice. “You should go to bed, and get some real rest.”

Tired though he must have been – his eyes underlined with layers of sleepless shadows – Leif shook his head. “No. No, I can’t – I’m staying right here, with him, until I have to go.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “We’ve only got two days until departure.”

Guilt plucked at Erik – firstly, that he’d managed to snag at least a few hours of sleep, and with his lover bundled up in his arms no less – and secondly because there were onlytwo daysleft, and Rune needed a drawing salve.

“About that. There’s no need for you to come along with us to the festival. You can stay here with your brother, if you want.”

Leif blinked at him in surprise, and then his expression grew pained. “Uncle. I’ve been going since I was twelve.”

“Which is why missing one year won’t hurt anything. The clan leaders will understand.”

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