Page 102 of Edge of the Wild

“And what is that? That she likes you? That she wants to kiss you? That she’s a beautiful, soft-hearted young lady who’s spent countless hours by your bedside? I have seen the way she looks at you: don’t demean yourself – paint yourself a rapist, for gods’ sakes – just to paintheras meek and chaste.”

He gaped at her a moment, as the words hit him. And then the blankets rustled as he surged forward – an aborted movement to get up that left him flinching against the pain in his side. A pain entirely different from that in his voice when he said, “Mother, I wouldneverdo anything against her will. I will never hurt her like that!” His hands had clenched to fists in the bedclothes, tendons standing stark in his wrists and forearms. He trembled, faintly.

Revna wanted to cross to the bed, sit down on its edge, and reel him in to her. Hold him beneath her chin so she could kiss the top of his head, like she had when he was a baby.

But those once-soft, round cheeks were lean and bearded now. And this was not the easy, aimless upset of a broken toy or a scraped knee. This was the upset of a man – and a foolishly noble one at that.

She held her ground. In a level voice, said, “Then stop protecting her.”

He scowled. “No. That’s what a man does. He protects the people he cares about.”

Didn’t that just break her heart?

“Would Father not have smashed-in someone’s nose for suggesting the same of you?”

“He would have,” she relented. So would Erik…so would Bjorn. They would have been wrong, though, because she’d been throwing herself at Torstan when she was Tessa’s age, and not nearly as subtly, either.

“Then don’t ask me to be less of a man than he is,” Rune finished on a firm note. And he folded his arms, face set. Decided.

She sighed. She’d gone about this the wrong way, and she wanted to kick herself for underestimating her own offspring like that. She hadn’t been angry, not from the first, and so she dropped the façade – gratified to watch him notice it slip off her shoulders. “Rune,” she said, in a gentler voice, “do you love her?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no nervously glancing away. He admitted it as boldly and straight-forwardly as he did everything. Leif was honest, yes, but he could hedge when he needed to; he was diplomatic in the way a king should be.

Rune was all instinctual response.

And Revna could feel the sadness in her smile, because while she believed him, she knew that, for him, at his age, love was still so innocent and easy. Young love could be acute, could be vibrant, could be true – but it hadn’t been battle-tested. Not fire-forged. It wasn’t hard to love a pretty girl at this age; commitments felt so effortless when nothing bad had happened yet.

She sighed again, her lungs tight. “It’s never been anyone’s intention – Erik’s or mine – that Tessa not have a choice in the matter. We won’t force her to marry your brother, if she’d rather have you.”

She could tell, from the way his brows shot up, that he hadn’t expected to hear that. He held very still a moment, and she could see the righteousness bleeding out of his face, the flush of anger receding, so he looked as pale and unwell as he truly was. “You…do you mean that?”

“Of course. If any of us gave a fig for appearances or propriety, your uncle would have married her straight away and had done with it. I got to choose my own husband. I want the same for Tessa.”

He digested this; a hint of a disbelieving smile flickered. “But…”

She lifted her brows.

Guilt crept into his expression. “What about Leif?”

“Leif will understand. I assure you, the last thing he wants is to marry a girl who’s in love with his brother – that wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. But. He’s currently almost to Dreki Hörgr, and it would look better if you and Tessa waited until he was home. Tell him yourselves and sort it out then. No sneaking around behind anyone’s back.”

He nodded readily. “Yes, Mum. That’s a good idea.”

“That means” – and now she fought a smile – “no more of” – she gestured to the bed, the rumpled blankets and furs where Tessa had been sitting – “this.”

“Of…oh.” The flush returned to his cheeks, for an entirely different reason. “Of course. I understand.”

“There’s already gossip, apparently. Estrid’s tongue has been wagging.”

He made a face. “Gods, I hate her.”

“Duly noted. But I’m serious, Rune. The two of you have spent entirely too much time together. It isn’t seemly.”

“Mother, you sound like a Southerner.”

“You’re going to marry one. Get used to it.”

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