Freya’s eyebrows shot up, and Gressa knew what Freya was thinking.
“Grímr threatened Strian’s life. He threatened to find Strian and torture him while he was content to just kill you and the others. He knew who Strian was to me, and I wasn’t willing to risk his threats being proven true.”
“That must have been awful for you,” Freya’s words understated the disgust and loathing Gressa had felt towards Grímr and herself.
“You will never know just how right you are.” Gressa once again glanced at Strian before continuing. “Freya, you might understand now that you’re married, but there is nothing I won’t do to keep Strian safe. It’s all I’ve tried to do since I was seventeen and he started to pay attention to me.”
Freya nodded and did something that no one expected and caused their friends to collectively gasp. She pulled Gressa in for a tight embrace and held her as she whispered.
“I’ve missed you more than you could ever know. Neither Tyra nor I were the same after you disappeared. I didn’t want to get close to anyone because I couldn’t stand feeling the pain I did after you went missing. I am glad you’re home, and I have been ever since Strian brought you to us, but I just couldn’t move past the hurt Strian endured. Or mine as well. You were my sister even if we weren’t born of the same parents.”
Gressa returned Freya embrace, holding her as though she might slip away.
“I’ve never met anyone else like you. I missed how we used to sneak into one another’s rooms at night to gossip about the boys. I missed how you always made sure I belonged. I just missed you.”
The two women hugged for another moment before turning to walk arm in arm back to their friends. Freya slid into Erik’s arms, needing the comfort of her husband after such a raw conversation. Gressa buried her face in Strian’s chest as he stroked her back and kissed her crown. She inhaled his scent and felt her mind settle.
“You two reconciled, or it looked that way,” Strian murmured.
“We did.”
The group walked to the training fields, but before anyone could begin sparring, a commotion at the gates to the homestead drew everyone’s attention. Five men on horseback galloped through the gates with three men, wrists bound, being dragged behind them. The riders reined in when they reached the training fields. Ivar and Rangvald, Erik’s father and Ivar’s ally, walked forward from where they had been sparring together. Ivar wiped his brow as the men dismounted, and they pulled the three captives forward and presented them to Ivar.
Strian blocked Gressa’s view, but when she heard Welsh being spoken among the prisoners, she pushed past Strian. She gasped before she could bite back the sound. Strian looked down at Gressa as the color drained from her face. His eyes darted to the three men before looking down at Gressa. As she stood staring at the men, she bit her lower lip to where Strian wondered if she would draw blood. Her reaction made Strian question who these men were to Gressa, and jealousy began to take root in his mind. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and pulled her against his side.
“Explain,” he bit out.
Gressa looked up at him in surprise, but his glare told her more than his words would. She looked around before tilting her head towards the back of the crowd that was forming. Strian’s suspicious expression only made Gressa’s stomach churn as dread had already seized her when she recognized the men.
When they reached the back of the crowd, and Gressa was sure no one could hear them, she gestured for Strian to stand closer as they both looked back at the crowd. They both attempted to make it appear as though they were watching the scene unfold rather than having a private conversation.
“Strian, this isn’t good. I know those men.”
“I gathered as much,” Strian cut in. “Who are they to you, and why are they here? Are they trying to rescue you? Do you belong to one of them? Does one of them miss you in his bed?”
Strian’s last question tore through Gressa’s heart. She pivoted and drove her fist into Strian’s stomach before her other landed on his chin.
“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that. I thought you believed me and that you were done accusing me. So much for a marriage if you assume the worst of me the moment something tests us. I’m no man’s whore. Not even yours.”
Gressa spun on her heel and pushed through the crowd before Strian could catch her. She moved until she stood once more at the front. One man caught sight of her and called out her name. She wished she could wither into the ground. She had not intended for anyone to know she was acquainted with the men. Her rush to get away from Strian and her own curiosity would now be her undoing.
“Ydych chi'n iach?” the man closest to her asked if she was well.
“Rydw i gyda fy ngŵr o'r diwedd.” Gressa forced herself to keep from smiling as she explained she was with her husband at last. She knew the others would misunderstand her smile, and while she was angry at Strian for his accusations, it did not change the fact that she was happy to be with him.
“Who are these men?” Ivar demanded as he looked between the captives and Gressa.
“The one speaking is Rowan, Prince Dafydd’s youngest brother and captain of the prince’s archers. The other two are both bowmen. The one with the longer hair is Afan, and the other is Afon. They are twins even though they don’t look much alike.”
“So, they’re friends of yours since you’re an archer, too.” Ivar’s eyes narrowed.
“Hardly. The twins are Princess Enfys’s older brothers. I’ve discovered the prince and princess betrayed me when they sent me with these men to fight for Grímr.”
“Don’t believe her,” came a voice from the crowd.
“She’s a spy!” another yelled.
“I am not,” Gressa spoke evenly. “I know them because they lived in the same village as I did. I was there for ten years; there are few people I didn’t know there. I trained with these men, but they are not friends.”
“Beth maen nhw'n ei ddweud?” demanded Rowan, wanting to know what was being said in a language none of the men understood.
Gressa ignored him as she turned to Ivar, catching sight of Strian from the corner of her eye. He had returned to the front of the crowd, but he had not come to stand by her. His distance hurt, cutting through her worse than when she realized Dafydd and Enfys’s betrayal.
“These men are spies. That’s the only reason they are here.”
“And you’re willing to turn against them as quickly as you were willing to join them.” Ivar’s tone made the hair on the back of Gressa’s neck stand up. She had grown up living in Ivar’s home, and he had been the nurturing father figure her own father refused to be. She looked around as the entire crowd seemed to sneer at her. Everyone was convinced of her guilt.
“Quickly? You forced my husband to give up searching for me. You abandoned me. What was I supposed to do when slavers took me to a foreign land where I knew no one and depended upon strangers to remain alive? I spent ten years thinking I would never see my husband again. I made a home for myself, and they allowed me to train. How could I have known one day that the people I supposed were my friends would trade me to the enemy of people who never wanted me to begin with? You might believe I would betray you, but it’s far worse that you think I would betray Strian.” Gressa turned to look at the men who strained to catch what she said but had no way of understanding. “These men do not deserve to die, but if it’s a choice between them and Strian, then let them rot.”
“Roeddech chi'n ffyliaid i sbïo ac idiotiaid am gael eich dal.” You were fools to spy and idiots for getting caught. Gressa turned her back on the men as she once more addressed Ivar. “You have valuable prisoners. Ransom them to Rowan’s other brother, Rhys. He’s with Grímr, too. Or don’t. I couldn’t care less about any of this. You’ve already decided I’m guilty by association, what do I care what happens to the men who sealed my fate?”
Gressa did not know where to go, but as long as she was not a captive too, she could not stay the
re. She left the training field and headed toward the forest and the path that would take her to the fjord. Her own husband believed she had lied and been unfaithful. She no longer cared for her safety. She had nothing left. The last person she loved had turned on her.
Eleven
Strian stood stunned as he listened to Gressa defend herself. He chided himself for his rash words, knowing he had ruined his marriage by believing the worst rather than coming to Gressa’s defense. When she walked away, he followed. He would not let her go alone into the forest when it was obvious Grímr’s men were nearby, and he would not wait to apologize and attempt to salvage the tatters of their relationship. He raced to catch up to her when she broke into a run once she was out of sight of the tribe.
“Gressa! Gressa, wait!” Strian called to her as she wound her way among the trees. Hearing his voice only seemed to make her run faster. Her quick pace was no match for Strian’s longer legs. He pulled her to a stop. He was prepared for her to strike out again, so seeing the tears streaming down her face undid him. Her crushed expression only made the guilt gnawing at his gut consume all of him. He fell to his knees as he took her hand. His own tears watering his eyes.
“Gressa,” his voice coming out a broken plea.
“No, Strian. You sided with them instead of me.” She tried to pull her hand free, but Strian’s grip was like a manacle. It was the one time he would not let her go when she tried to walk away. Strian bowed his head, and the way his shoulders shook told her he was crying. The only other time she had seen him cry was in the privacy of their home as he grieved for his mother. Her heart wanted to comfort him, but her mind railed against it. Her heart won, and she ran her hand along his hair.
“How could you?” her voice not more than a whisper.
“Because I was afraid,” he confessed.
“Afraid? Of what? That I would turn out to be a spy?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I was afraid one of them meant more than me, and that I would have to watch you choose someone else.”
Gressa understood. She had worried about the same thing their entire voyage. She feared a woman would be waiting for Strian, and that had been a large part of why she resisted. She could not bear watching Strian with someone else. She had battled jealousy and insecurity when they courted and other women flirted with him. She had become possessive when they married even though she tried her best to hide it.
“Strian, look at me.” She waited until he lifted his head, but his eyes were slow to meet hers. “I know that feeling. I know that fear because I felt it too the entire time we sailed. I feared what I would find when we arrived. It’s one reason I didn’t want to come back. I couldn’t survive seeing you with someone else.”
She shook head before continuing.
“But I didn’t accuse you. I didn’t forsake you. My resistance came from my fear for my safety. You heard how quick others were to accuse me. Do you think those accusations will be gone by the time we walk back? They will have festered, but me remaining in the crowd wouldn’t have done anything to prevent the rumors. Strian, the moment I needed you, you refused me. The weight of that is crushing.”
“I’m sorry, so, so, sorry,” his voice cracking once more before he cleared his throat. “You are right. I’ve wronged you as your husband. I pledged to always protect you, and yet, at the first sign of danger, I was a coward.”
There was no mistaking the shame and remorse in Strian’s voice or in his eyes. Gressa tilted her head back to look at the clouds as she took a deep breath. Life had seemed so fresh and uncomplicated those first three months of their marriage. They had awakened to one another, making love before going to the training field, slipping off during the noon meal for a few minutes alone before they each had other duties to attend. They found each other before the evening meal where they often fed one another, living in a land of love and affection that had no other occupants. They would fall into bed kissing as they worshipped one another’s bodies and made love well into the night, only to awaken to the same routine.
Now, life was complicated, and they could never return to that time of bliss. Fate had sealed that for them. They had been apart far longer than they had been a couple. Strian had only courted her for four moons before they married. They had spent less than a year as a couple, but their love still bound them together. It was a part of each of them that was inextricable despite years of separation and now yet another trial.
“Strian, you’re not a coward. I don’t want to ever hear you say that again. I would kill anyone stupid enough to accuse you of that, so I won’t accept it from you. Stand up.” She waited as he shuffled to his feet. She grasped both of his hands. “I am angry and hurt still. That won’t go away just because you apologized. It will take me a while to calm down, but I told you I understand. But, Strian, you can’t go around accusing me any time something complicates or tests our marriage. I can’t spend my life with someone who is so willing to believe the worst of me, who doesn’t trust me.”
“I do trust you. It was my own selfishness that made me lash out. You never gave me reason to believe you aren’t worthy of that trust, but I saw how you paled when those men stepped forward. I assumed you were fearful for at least one of their lives. That cut through me like a knife, but Gressa, there’s something you refuse to tell me. My mind assumed it had something to do with those men, that you’re hiding something that involves one of them. I believe your reason for wanting to return to Wales has to do with them. You can’t live your life fearing I believe the worst in you, but I can’t spend my life knowing you’re hiding something from me.”
Strian tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but her secret sat in the back of his mind, and it had come screaming to life. His remorse fought against his impatience, and this time the latter won.
Gressa closed her eyes but could not keep the tears from falling. There was no other choice but to tell Strian why she needed to return to Wales. There was no chance for them to heal if she did not divulge what she fought to keep hidden. Keeping the secret would not protect Strian from the same pain she lived with daily. It would only drive them apart.
Strian watched as Gressa struggled with the decision to tell him what she continued to hide, and the longer she waited, the more his mind wanted to suspect the worst.
“Stop. Stop being evasive. Stop lying by omission and tell me the damn truth.” Strian’s voice was wrought with emotion: impatience, fear, and frustration.
Gressa knew Strian’s demand was reasonable. She had been lying by omission.
“Our son!” she sobbed.
Strian felt the air whoosh from him, and he let go as dizziness overtook him. He sank to his haunches and shook his head.
“I have a son. We have a son.” Hate filled his gaze as he looked up at Gressa. It was the same look he had given her as they stood with the crowd. His guilt morphed into anger as once again he questioned her loyalty. Loyalty he believed had been proven only moments ago. “You stayed there. You didn’t do everything in your power to come home. With our son.”
Gressa kneeled before him and reached for his face, but he brushed her hands away.
“I was injured then ill for weeks. By the time I was well enough to travel, I was too far along to go anywhere. I told you it was two moons by the time I was well enough to get around. I was already five months pregnant when I realized my condition.” She hiccupped as she tried to control her tears. “He’s dead, Strian. He was stillborn, but he’s buried there. They wouldn’t let me give him a Norse funeral. They stole away his chance to go to Helgafjell to live a life like the living among the spirits. They took him away before he could earn his entrance to Valhalla or Fôlkvang. I can’t leave him behind if his soul isn’t at rest. He will be alone and without our gods.”
Gressa turned towards the water and walked to the shore. Strian let her go as what she said permeated his foggy mind. When he made sense of what she said, he ran after her. He caught her around the waist and pulled her
into his embrace. She felt the shudders run through him as his tears soaked her shoulder.
“Were you never going to tell me?”
“I don’t think so. I couldn’t stand seeing you like this. It was one thing to let you believe I caused you pain or doubt. It was another to hurt you with this knowledge. I would have spared you it for I know it all too well. I live with it every day.”
They stood holding each other until they knew they could no longer wait to return to the tribe.
“I will take you back to Wales as soon as I can assemble my crew. They can return with my longboat, and I will pass its ownership to my first mate. But Gressa, do you want to return to the court of Dafydd and Enfys? Do we have to?”
Gressa drew in a deep breath not wanting to think about the reality of returning to Wales. It was no longer as simple as it had seemed. Now she feared what would happen to Strian if she brought a Norse warrior into their midst. She feared his life would depend upon him fighting against his own people. She could not leave their son, but she could not endanger Strian. The conflicting thoughts made her head ache. Even if they did not live in the royal stronghold, they could not escape Dafydd and Enfys knowing she had returned. Her return would signal her escape from Grímr’s forces; forces she had been specifically sent to join. There was no where they could live that was close to their son’s grave without being close to the couple that betrayed her. Gressa shook her head before answering.
Strian (Viking Glory Book 4) Page 8
