She paused at the odd phrasing. ‘Where is he?’
‘The hall, my lady.’ He stepped back to let her pass, but then he fell into step behind her and she had the oddest sensation that he was escorting her like a guard would a prisoner.
Glancing back at him, she asked, ‘Is something the matter?’
‘I...’ He hesitated again, his gaze darting to the closed doorway that led to the hall. ‘I could not say, my lady.’
A shiver of unease ran down her spine. Something had happened while she sat with Wilfrid and it seemed as if everyone knew it but her. The other warrior guarding the door would not meet her gaze.
‘Let me in.’ Her voice came out a whisper.
The door opened and she stepped inside, fixing a smile on her face to greet her husband. Nothing could have prepared her for what she found inside. Rurik was standing near the hearth, his face ragged and filled with a pain she had never seen there. At his side stood a man who appeared vaguely familiar. From his hair to his clothing, she immediately judged him to be Norse.
He knew her, too. He stared at her with a look of recognition tinged with loathing. It wasn’t until she stepped closer, the doors closing behind her, that she remembered. He was the Norseman from the longhouse in Maerr. The one who had tried to fight Lugh when he attacked and killed the pregnant woman. The one who had fought her and marked her.
A quick glance at Rurik confirmed that he knew everything.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A cold heat travelled down her spine and prickled over her skin. In an instant, she knew how things would go. Rurik would never understand. How could he? Her decision to keep her presence in Maerr from him was unforgivable. Nevertheless, the sudden pain that settled deep in her heart at the thought of losing him meant that she had to try to talk to him.
The look the younger Norseman gave her was so full of loathing that it was very nearly palpable where it touched her. Rurik’s was hardly any better. A pressure held her chest tight.
‘Rurik, please allow me to explain.’
‘Yes, explain to me how all this time you have not told me about going to Maerr.’ His voice was bitter and cold like she had never heard it. Even in the cell below, there had been a heat present as he had used his words to spar with her.
The frigidness caught her breath, as if she had jumped into a mountain lake soon after the spring thaw. ‘I wanted to tell you, but—’ She broke off. She would not use Cedric as an excuse. It was true that he had told her not to mention it, but it had been her decision to heed his warning. ‘In the beginning, I was afraid that you might harm me.’
That only made his brow crease with contempt, so she raised her hands. ‘Only in the beginning. I know now that you would never harm me... Not physically. I wanted to tell you on our wedding night, but you bid me to be silent.’ When he jerked his head away, she was afraid he would think she was blaming him. She dropped her hands and clasped them together in front of her to keep from reaching for him. He would not welcome her touch now, maybe not ever again. The sense of loss welling inside her would soon become unbearable.
‘Perhaps I should have forced the issue. But then Jarl Eirik came and there was so much to overcome that the timing didn’t seem to be right. Glannoventa needed you and I could not risk you leaving. Please believe that I planned to tell you...’ Her voice trailed off as she realised how pitiful her excuses sounded. To him there was no reason that would justify her continued silence. Not one that he would accept. Her silence on the matter had wounded him deeply. She could see that now.
He did not look at her when he spoke next. His furious gaze stared into the fire. ‘You plotted to kill my family, Annis.’
Her palms itched to touch him and soothe his hurt. She wanted to curl her fingers in his hair and stroke down his back the way she knew he liked. ‘It is true that I wanted revenge for Grim’s death.’ And that she had been in deep mourning for both him and her son. ‘But I only wanted Sigurd to pay for his crimes. I never wanted anyone else to get hurt.’
It seemed foolishly innocent now that she could have believed there would be no danger to anyone but Sigurd. In hindsight she could see that her grief had not allowed her to think rationally, but even that was no excuse. She had picked her path and she had no choice but to accept the consequences.
‘Lie.’ This was from the younger Norseman.
‘Sandulf?’ she asked.
He gave a curt nod. ‘You remember me. You remember that I was there when you and your assassin butchered Ingrid.’
Nausea roiled in her stomach. She had tried so hard to forget that day, that poor woman’s scream of pain when Lugh had descended upon her. ‘I did no such thing.’
She looked back at Rurik to find him watching her with interest, so she directed her explanation to him. Whether Sandulf believed her or not, she did not care. She only needed Rurik to believe that she would not have slaughtered an innocent.
‘It is true we were at the wedding. I thought the plan was to wait until after, to find Sigurd in seclusion and confront him. The battle started outside and then someone closed the doors to the hall and the whole place erupted in fury. We were not the only ones there that day who wanted Sigurd’s death. But the assassin I was with, Lugh, had another target in mind. I
