‘Did he say...?’ Rurik paused at her nod and turned his attention back to the older man. ‘You know who I am?’ His heart pounded behind his ribs.
‘I am as near to death as a man can be while still breathing, but I—’
‘Father—’ Annis began, but he raised his hand to stop her. She gestured to the guards who quickly left the room.
‘I must say this, Annis.’ He paused and took several breaths, as if the words had made him use up all his air. ‘I have not lost all of my reasoning.’ He paused again for another breath. ‘As soon as you said you were Norse and then mentioned Maerr...’ a pause for breath ‘...I knew that you were Sigurd’s son.’ Wilfrid stared at his eyes, not looking into them, but at them. It was almost as if he was seeing someone else there. ‘Your eyes are his eyes.’
Danr looked like Sigurd, while Rurik’s features tended to favour their mother. However, their eyes were the same and those were Sigurd’s eyes. Rurik had not thought to anticipate that part of him would be recognised.
‘When you hate as much as I hated your father, you remember things.’ His gaze looked off across the room as if he were remembering things about Sigurd. ‘I have not seen him since Grim...in many years, but I remember.’
Rurik had already begun to suspect that Wilfrid had been too ill to travel to Maerr, but he needed to ask anyway. ‘Did you not go to Maerr and see him one last time?’
Wilfrid gave a jerky shake of his head. ‘I would have gone had I been able.’
The world spun around him. Rurik closed his eyes to quiet the spin. All this way and not only was Wilfrid an infirm old man whose death would provide no sense of justice, but he had not even been in Maerr. He told himself it was enough that he could be led to the assassins, but the victory felt hollow. The door of the chamber opened and Rurik did not have to look to know that Cedric had walked in. The air changed with the man’s furious vigour. A quick glance confirmed the suspicion, though Cedric kept away, only standing inside the door.
‘I believe you,’ said Rurik.
Wilfrid took in another shallow breath. ‘You came for revenge.’
‘For justice.’
Wilfrid smiled, but it looked more like a sneer as only one side of his mouth twisted upwards. ‘What is justice?’
‘A chance to right the wrong.’
‘What of our wrong? Annis told you of Grim?’
Annis was looking at Rurik again, only this time her eyes seemed to glow with her pain. ‘She told me,’ he answered, unable to look away from her. ‘I am sorry for Grim.’ He said it for Annis, not for Wilfrid or Cedric. He was sorry for the pain he saw in her eyes every time she thought of her late husband. For the days she had spent caring for Grim in his pain. For the babe she had lost.
Her eyes glistened, but she did not look away from him. The sight of her so vulnerable made his throat ache. He wanted to hold her in his arms and give her pleasure to take the pain away.
‘You are sorry, yet you bring vengeance to our door.’ This was from Cedric and effectively broke the spell Annis had cast over him with her eyes.
Rurik stood to face the man. ‘I have brought only myself seeking the truth.’
‘You came to kill Wilfrid.’
He could not lie. ‘Obviously, that will accomplish very little.’ No one would say it, but he would be surprised if the man lived out the winter.
‘Then how will your justice be served?’ asked Cedric.
‘There were assassins. I can find them.’ Not only did he want to punish them, but he needed to find out what they knew. Others had participated in the attack and he was almost certain that someone was responsible for bringing them all together. Rurik needed to find out who it was. For himself, his family and especially for Brandt.
Cedric’s heavy gaze levelled on him before moving to Wilfrid and then settling on Annis. ‘I am told that you are the son of a princess as well as that of a king,’ he said to Rurik.
So Annis had told him. Rurik did not know whether to feel glad she had spoken of him or to feel betrayed. He decided to feel nothing and see where Cedric would lead. ‘I am.’
‘That means you can bring the warriors of Maerr as well as those of an Irish king down upon our heads were we to let you go.’
‘My father’s warriors were killed in the massacre. Those that are left serve a new king now.’ There were rumours that the sons of Sigurd had conspired to kill their own father, along with rumours that they had plotted with their father against Harald Finehair himself. The fact that they were conflicting rumours did not seem to matter—the remaining warriors had still fled and now the brothers were scattered. King Harald would not be inclined to believe him. ‘Besides, my own uncle conspired to kill Sigurd. Any proof I could bring would be suspect.’
Unless he could bring Annis. In the space of a heartbeat, his gaze flicked to her, taking in the smooth skin of her cheek and her soft, lovely mouth as she stared at Cedric. The base appeal of taking her was one he could not deny. He despised how his father had taken Saorla, but only now did he understand the allure. Annis called to something fierce and wild inside him. The idea of having her to himself was nearly irresistible. It was only the memory of his mother’s pain that made him push the idea aside. For now.
‘Then that only leaves your Irish uncle.’ The way Cedric said that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end in warning.
‘King Feann will see Glannoventa punished if
