Page 70 of Heart of the Wolf
“Yes,” Brielle grinned as the three of them walked outside.
While Liv headed into the village center, Astrid threaded her arm through Brielle’s, leading them to the well-trodden path through the forest. The trees were thick with lush leaves, and sunlight streamed overhead, just peeking out of the treetops.
Astrid remained a constant comfort, and Brielle hoped she was one to her sister as well.
As the tension with the clans continued to escalate, so did the creases around Astrid’s mouth. Even if she did her best to stay positive around Brielle, she couldn’t hide it completely. Astrid rarely voiced her worries, but Brielle saw the hefty weight in her eyes.
Each day, Brielle pushed herself harder to walk for longer. The house was too empty with Leif gone, and thesummers were so short. She intended to soak up as much of the sun as possible before winter came.
Soon, the pair found themselves at the water’s edge. Brielle slipped off her boots with Astrid’s help, grinning as the waves lapped at her toes. There was a sting to the tide; the water was still cold despite the warm afternoon sun. Brielle reveled in it, the frigid water soothing her swollen ankles.
Brielle ran her hands over her belly, staring at the horizon the longships had chased. Astrid skipped stones along the water, asking her about her and Leif’s plans for their child.
Silently, Astrid passed her a smooth stone. Brielle ran the pad of her thumb along it. When she tossed it into the water, it plunked straight to the bottom, not skipping even once. Pouting, she met Astrid’s bright blue eyes laced with laughter.
“What about you, Astrid? Do you and Amund intend to have children?”
“Oh yes,” she said with unwavering clarity. “Once you and Úlfr are settled with your little girl.” Brielle huffed, but let her continue without interruption. “Amund and I will have a son. I think Freyja may have plans for them.”
An entire future flashed through Brielle’s mind. One where they had a daughter, and Astrid and Amund had a son. One where Leif and Amund argued when theirchildren bickered like siblings. One where someone grew close to their daughter, closer than Leif wanted anyone near his little girl.
“That’s a pretty picture,” Brielle said, noting the curious way Astrid stared off into the distance, distracted.
“It is,” Astrid said, padding further down the shore looking for stones, leaving Brielle with her thoughts.
Boy or girl, it didn’t matter. As long as their baby was healthy and cared for, Brielle would be happy. Leif would protect their child with his last breath. Her thumb stroked over her navel, smiling when their baby kicked. Her mind wandered to thoughts of a second one or even a third. Brielle shook it from her mind, instead wanting the current one out of her.
“I love you very much, but if you could please make your appearance soon. Mamma’s tired, little one.”
“Brielle,” Astrid screamed, her voice muffled. “Run!”
Before she could react, the cool blade of a dagger bit into her throat. Gnarled, bony fingers snaked around her wrist, wrenching her arm painfully behind her back. Brielle hissed, clenching her jaw so hard that her teeth rattled. Everything happened so quickly that it took Brielle’s senses a moment to catch up.
When the blade moved from her throat to her belly, tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision. A single bead of blood glistened beneath the tip, staining the silver steelcrimson. Acid eroded at a spot by her heart, burning so badly she retched.
“Please,” Brielle begged, unable to see the person restraining her. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Let us go. Please.”
“What I want,” a woman mocked in a childish voice, “is for Leif to surrender rule of the clans. And I think he will in exchange for you.”
With a sudden thud to the back of her head, everything went dark.
Chapter eighteen
Brielle
Sharp stings of pain speared in the spot behind her right eye, each one more jarring than the last. The darkness behind her eyelids offered a little reprieve from the pain. She debated keeping them closed. If only to keep the nausea at bay. A kick in her ribs sent a jolt down her spine. One at a time, she fluttered her lashes, opening her eyes, relaxing when a dim room greeted her.
Orange firelight flickered in the corner, illuminating rows of tapestries and furs mounted on the walls. Long tables and stacks of chairs lined the edges of the room. It reminded Brielle of the gathering space in the longhouse back home. However, this place lacked the warmth and happiness she associated with such a communal spot.
White gold hair sparkled in the glow of the flames beside her. Astrid looked so tiny, limp, like a wilted flower in the oversized chair she was strapped to.
Strands of sweaty blonde hair fell over her cheeks, obscuring her gaunt face. Brielle opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her lips parted again and again, but all she tasted was the dry feel of batted cotton.
A drawn-out sigh made her aching body sag when the baby in her belly kicked happily, unaffected by their circumstances. When she tried to reach around and cradle her stomach, leather straps tightened around her wrists. The rough material bit into the raw skin there, making her hiss and clench her jaw.
Outside of her throbbing temple, she appeared to be otherwise unharmed. As did Astrid.
Wood creaked in the distance. Brielle’s head snapped to the source of the sound. A frail girl stumbled into the room, her thin shift dress torn and dingy. Wide, bloodshot eyes stared at her, the girl’s fingers trembling around the bowl in her hands. She was young, barely old enough to be a woman. Bare feet padded over the dirt floor, stopping in front of Astrid and nudging her.
