Could the woman he was coming to love—no, the woman he was quite certain that he did love—participate in such a ruthless act? An image of Ingrid as she had been in death came to him before he could stop it, bloodied and disfigured, her face a mask of the obvious suffering she had felt before her death. Her unborn child... What person could do that to an innocent woman? No matter Sigurd’s guilt in his alleged crimes against Glannoventa, Ingrid had not deserved her fate.
Rurik did not realise that tears blurred his vision until one of the warriors guarding the door had opened it, calling to him. He must have tried to get Rurik’s attention several times, having been summoned by Rurik’s cry of denial, because he came into the chamber reaching for the sword at his waist.
‘Stay!’ Rurik stopped his progress with the one word.
Sandulf would not lie to him about this. The description was too clear for the unknown assassin to be anyone but Annis, from her hair to the scar on her back. The very scar Rurik had noticed, wondering how she had come by such a thing. He had asked her once and she had responded that it was an accident, but he’d been too lost in his lust and affection for her to demand an answer.
He could not imagine the woman he knew participating in a brutal murder, not after what she had been forced to endure with Grim and her unborn child. But the evidence seemed overwhelming. Had she lied to him all these days? There was only one way to find out.
Blinking to clear his eyes, he said, ‘Bring Annis to me.’
Annis stared down at Wilfrid’s dear face. With his wrinkled hand in hers, she had finally managed to calm him into a deep sleep. He had not slept the night before and as a result he’d been disorientated most of the day. Wulfwyn, the healer, who was usually so calm could not keep the concern from her face.
‘He is not long for this world, I fear.’ Never one to mince words or make things appear better than they were, the healer had looked kindly on them both one last time before taking her leave.
Annis had stayed by his side long after his fitful breathing had lengthened and settled as he’d found his rest. Whether he had known her, Annis could not say, but her presence seemed to soothe him. Cedric had approached her this morning with the news of Wilfrid’s fitful night. The two were closer than brothers and he hadn’t been able to hide the sorrow from his face. Even he knew that Wilfrid’s end was coming. Only a handful of years separated the two, but Wilfrid appeared decades older.
Annis had tried to comfort Cedric, but there was nothing she could say to take away his pain. In the end she feared that she had made things even worse. Instead of waiting for a better time, her thoughts had gone to Rurik and the terrible thing she was hiding from him. With Wilfrid near death, she had suggested that now was the time to tell Rurik everything. Jarl Eirik was gone and it appeared that their marriage would stand, but Cedric had not wanted to hear of it. He wanted to wait even longer, until after Wilfrid’s death when Glannoventa’s fate had been settled.
She had argued. ‘It is only fair that Rurik know while Wilfrid is alive to answer his questions.’
Cedric waved away her concern. ‘What questions could he have? You were there.’ The words came out between his teeth, almost like an accusation. ‘You can answer his questions.’
‘True, but what if he has questions about the earlier confrontation between Wilfrid and Sigurd? What if there is something he must know?’
‘What would he need to know?’
‘I don’t know. There could be anything.’ She had shrugged, aware that she was making this worse for Cedric, but unable to stop herself from arguing on Rurik’s behalf. ‘The point is that this has been kept from him for too long. He must be told the truth.’
Cedric had come to stand over her then. ‘And you are certain that when you tell him the truth, he will stay? He won’t leave you, or worse...?’
Her stomach tumbling over herself, she had asked, ‘Worse?’
‘He came here for vengeance.’ His tone had gentled, but it did not soften the harsh words. ‘What is to stop him from taking his vengeance out on you? He could drag you back to Maerr and turn you over to the King or even his family.’
The flicker of unease those words brought had been in her belly ever since. She was certain now that Rurik would not physically harm her. It wasn’t in his nature. But would he take his vengeance out on her in some other way? Would he hate her, or would he give her a chance to explain her part? Would he believe her and accept it when she told him that she had made a horrible mistake? She wanted to believe that the man who held her so tenderly every night would understand and accept her, but she couldn’t be certain.
She had almost told him several times since Jarl Eirik’s departure, most recently when he had seen her arguing with Cedric earlier that day. Perhaps it was time to stop wondering about his reaction and let him know the truth. Whatever he decided, she would have to be strong enough to accept. She could not keep lying to the man she loved.
Placing a kiss on the back of Wilfrid’s hand, she laid it gently on his chest and let herself out of his chamber. To her surprise, one of the warriors stood there. ‘Good afternoon, Ealdred. Have you seen my husband? I would have a word with him.’
He appeared hesitant,
