Page 24 of Beholden
Thankfully, the dance ended before Curly could say anything more, and Molly whisked him away. As Gabriella approached and invited me to dance again, I held back, encouraging Farthing to take a turn instead. Though everything within me resisted letting go, I had to be careful henceforth. I was treading in dangerous territory in more ways than one.
When the dancers grew tired and the music ceased, some made themselves comfortable around the fire, while others drifted toward their huts, yawning with exhaustion. My conversation with Curly still foremost upon my mind, I headed away also, only to stop at a gentle touch to my arm.
“Will you not stay by the fire a while?” Gabriella peered at me hopefully. “It is too beautiful a night to be inside.”
Shewas too beautiful for me to be inside. But I stuffed that thought aside. I had to endeavor to keep our relationship from progressing. I’d done a pitiful job of that so far, and now with Curly’s entreaty to wed her, I had to halt any notion that we had a future together.
My mind scrambled for anything I might say that wouldn’t be too hurtful. But what else could be as effective as the truth?
“Curly just tasked me with marrying you,” I whispered. “Thus, I’m inclined to think we’ve taken our pretense of affection too far.”
She studied my face as though trying to see deeper inside me. “Have you no wish to follow through on his task?”
I tried to read her expression too, but if I’d hurt her, she masked it well. “You must know I regard you highly and consider you a true friend...”
“But you do not want to marry me?” Her question was straightforward, without any bitterness.
Nevertheless, I hesitated with my next response. “I’m not in a position to make promises to any woman, no matter how much I might have grown to care about her.”
She was quiet a moment, then nodded. “You have summarized my sentiments exactly. Curly has tasked me with the same. And while I understand he is thinking of my future, I am not in a position to make promises either.”
At her easy agreement, my ready response stalled.
“Since neither of us plans to consider Curly’s suggestion,” she continued, “let us put it aside and give it no more thought.”
Again, I was speechless. I’d been certain my rejection of a future together would hurt her. How could she disregard Curly’s admonishment instead of grasping a chance to escape the mine?
“Now, come.” She held out her hand. “The night is still young. Let us not waste the beauty of it because of our fears of the future.”
I could do nothing less than place my hand in hers. As she led me back to the fire and tugged me down to the ground to sit beside her, I couldn’t fend off my confusion—and perhaps disappointment—that she’d so easily accepted my decision not to marry her. I’d expected some tears, protest, or even anger. But she seemed fine. More than fine, in fact.
Was she relieved?
I wanted to ask her more. But as we joined the others in conversation, I tucked away my questions for another day. Next time we met for training I would pry further. For now, I would do as she bid and try not to waste the small moment of beauty amidst the unending toil and hardships.
“Only two weeks until Midsummer’s Eve and the yearly sacrifice to Grendel,” someone said across from us.
Gabriella stiffened. While our shoulders weren’t touching, we were close enough that I was keenly aware of her every move and breath, though I’d been trying not to be so conscious.
Was she afraid of Grendel?
I searched my mind for everything I’d learned about Grendel. In Scania we called men like Grendel berserkers. They were madmen who frenzied and raged with the strength and wildness of a bear. When having a fit of fury, such men became dangerous and bloodthirsty warriors known to bite their own shields out of rage, foam at the mouth, and howl like beasts. Some kings throughout Scanian history had enlisted berserkers into their armies because they were known to kill without conscience and could wreak mass destruction amongst an enemy.
As a peace-loving king, my father had banned the army from using berserkers and had attempted to eradicate them from the land, locking them up in dungeons for their own safety and the protection of the people.
It was said Grendel had escaped capture in Scania and now lived in Warwick, coming out on occasion to terrorize the people and the land. Had the queen learned of a way to appease the berserker? What was this about a yearly sacrifice?
I wanted to blurt out my questions, but doing so would reveal me to be the foreigner I was. Instead, I entered the conversation with care. “I have no doubt Ernie can regale us with a story about Grendel, especially the one relaying how the sacrifice came about.”
“Oh, yes.” Ernie shifted his legs away from the fire and situated himself more comfortably, clearly settling in for a long story.
Gabriella, on the other hand, stirred as though to rise, yawning in the process.
Before she could move too far, I slipped my arm behind her and drew her into the crook of my body. “Stay a little longer. The night is still young.”
At her own words coming from my lips, she stalled. For a heartbeat, I was afraid she’d go anyway. But then she leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder. While she remained somewhat stiff, I was relieved she hadn’t run off, although a part of me warned I should have let her go, that no good could come of holding her like this in the firelight.
I silenced the warning. After all, she’d told me she had no interest in a future with me. I had naught to worry about.
