She jerked back at that, her brows pushed together as she stared up at him. Not understanding what about that bothered her, he gently stroked her brow line with the pad of his thumb. Inexplicably, her eyes glistened.
There was the look again. The one that told him deep down that something was amiss. It had scared him every time he saw it, because it made him think that their time together could be at risk. It was a feeling he could not explain. More than fear.
‘What is it?’ he asked, taking a deep breath, suddenly certain that whatever she would say would change everything. ‘What did Cedric say to upset you?’ He resolved then and there to take the matter up with Cedric if she wouldn’t confide in him.
‘Do you remember on the night of our wedding that I wanted to tell you something?’ Her bottom lip trembled.
His gut knotted and he touched her face, needing to feel her skin against his. Nodding, he said, ‘I do.’
‘I wanted to tell you before...but then Jarl Eirik came and it seemed that there was too much facing us.’
‘You can tell me anything, Wife.’ A flash of pain crossed her face and he tightened his hold on her. ‘Is it about the assassins?’
Rurik had intentionally not mentioned them again. It wasn’t that he had given up on revenge or hunting them down. It was simply that they had found peace and a sort of happiness in the few days since the Jarl had left and now he was reluctant to let in the outside world. There would be time to find the men later when winter had left and the risk of hunting them down wasn’t as great.
She nodded. ‘In a way, but it’s even more than that.’ Her gold eyes were shining up at him, asking for forgiveness, but he didn’t understand why that could be.
‘What is it, Annis?’ he asked, hoping to relieve her of the burden she obviously carried.
She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but no words came out. Making a sound he didn’t recognise, he brushed his lips to her brow, soothing her. Her palm flattened against his chest as if savouring the beat of his heart.
‘Lady Annis!’ a woman called, her voice shrill with alarm. ‘Lady Annis!’
Annis pushed away from him and hurried around the corner of the building. The healer from the village stood there. She was an old crone with a kindly face who came up once a week to check Wilfrid.
‘I am here,’ Annis said.
‘Lord Wilfrid calls for you. He seems rather agitated.’
‘How is he? Is it another attack?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Not an attack, but he seems more confused than usual. Please come.’
Annis gave him a worried glance and Rurik smoothed a hand down her back. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, ‘Go now. I’ll find you soon.’
She touched her fingertips to his cheek before hurrying away with the woman. He watched her go, tense uncertainty roiling in his belly. He turned to find Cedric, who had disappeared somewhere, probably inside to attend Wilfrid, when Alder rushed up to him, catching his eye.
‘You must come, Lord. There is a man here. He says he is your brother.’
‘My brother?’ The words fell rather stiffly from his lips. Before he could even contemplate which one it could be, Alder solved the mystery for him.
‘A man named Sandulf.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Rurik hurried to the hall where his brother awaited him, hardly daring to believe that he would find Sandulf there. A hundred thoughts ran around in his head, colliding with each other before settling on one. Something had to be wrong to bring Sandulf all this way. The last time he had seen his youngest brother had been after the massacre when he had boarded a ship bound for Constantinople. The harsh words Rurik had said to him rang in his ears. Part of him had thought he would never see Sandulf again and he could hardly believe that he had the chance to take them back.
How had he even found Rurik here? Or had he somehow traced Wilfrid’s involvement?
Two men guarded the door, reminiscent of the guards that had constantly lingered in the passages before his marriage. Rurik was only glad they hadn’t left Sandulf in the underground cell to await him. Giving them a brief nod, he opened the door to find a man standing near the hearth, warming himself at the fire. He recognised the set of Sandulf’s shoulders a moment before the boy turned his face to him. Only, it was not the face of the half-boy, half-man that Rurik remembered. Gone was any lingering softness of childhood to be replaced by the battle-chiselled features of a warrior.
‘Sandulf?’ he asked, still not believing, although the man’s eyes were the same. He still had the cleft in his chin, but his jaw seemed harder.
Sandulf gave him a slow almost-grin, as if he had forgotten how to use the muscles required for the act. ‘Brother,’ he said in a voice more solemn than the one Rurik had known.
Despite the fact that the last time they had seen each other had been just after the massacre and Rurik had spoken harsh words to him, his chest lightened with joy at the sight of him, at this small bit of home that had found him in this near-forgotten corner of the world.
Walking over to him, they clasped arms and Rurik pulled him in until their shoulders touched. ‘Welcome, Brother,’ said Rurik, pounding his back. ‘I can hardly believe you are here.’
Sandulf’s smile came a bit easier this time, though it was by no means warm, and his eyes were troubled when he pulled back. ‘I cannot believe you are here.’ In response to Rurik’s furrowed brow, he said, ‘I didn’t know you would be here when I came. It wasn’t until I heard your name mentioned in the village that I knew.’
‘You found out about Wilfrid, then? Is
