Chapter Forty-six

She couldn't speak for most of the night. Some part of her didn't want to, some part of her was too scared, scared of the Jarl, scared of that tension that hung in the air around them and made it heavy, and she was scared of Ivar.

He spoke so little, only patting the children when they were close and staring out, always watching, always listening to whatever was said. Even when they were back in their room he only sat there, swirling his cup in front of his nose and watching it as Enid swallowed, leaning down to put Frigga in the cradle before turning to face him. For a moment she could do it, she could look into those cold, blue eyes, but then her heart began to race and she had to turn away and stare at the floor.

"Should I go to the shed?" she asked, and it took him so long to answer, so long she ended up holding her breath, so long she felt her chest rising and rising and didn't know when it would stop.

Some part of her hoped that the children would speak up, that they would ask for her to stay with them, but some part of her was even more frightened that they didn't. They only stared at Ivar, their eyes big and wide, Tyr fiddling with a strap of leather between his fingers.

"You stay with the children," he said, and suddenly she could breathe, suddenly she could nod her head and let her shoulders drop, but still she couldn't look at him.

So slowly she went to that other bed, pulling back the furs and jerking her head towards the children. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to speak, somehow the air around them was still thick and dangerous and only growing thicker because the children didn't argue as Tyr sat on the edge beside her, kicking off his boots and staring at the furs with eyes that were hazy and distant.

It was seeing that look on his face, seeing his mind racing and all his unanswered questions that had her smiling. She lifted her hand, cupping his cheek and running her thumb across it just like she'd wanted to the moment she'd seen him, and she laughed softly, pulling him towards her and kissing his forehead.

"I'm glad you're alright," she whispered, and he smiled.

"You too, Pot Breaker," he said, and Enid snorted, pushing him away from her and wrapping the furs around him.

"It's just Enid," she said, lying across his legs so she could hold Freya's hand, but Freya pulled her hand away.

For a moment Enid's heart froze and she thought Freya was angry with her, but then Freya lifted her hand, brushing the hair from Enid's face and whispering, "Every good warrior needs a name."

Enid smiled at her then, sighing and squeezing Freya's fingers as she took them from her face. "But not that one," she said. "It's not exactly my finest moment."

Tyr laughed, lifting his arm up and resting his head in the crook of his arm, just like his father did when he slept. "I don't know, Enid," he said. "How many English women can say they fought a Northman and won?"

"That wasn't fighting," she shook her head. "And I didn't win."

Tyr laughed again, poking her forehead with his finger and saying, "He's dead and you're not."

She stared at him a moment, her eyes big and wide, a weightlessness gripping her spine. At first she was afraid, at first she almost felt like she had dealt the finishing blow herself, but then she found herself smiling and brushing away his finger.

"Go to sleep," she said.

"Don't go out on your own, Enid," Freya whispered, and Enid looked at her then, that smile on her face vanishing, her heart suddenly racing in her chest.

How desperately she wanted to tell Freya everything would be fine, how desperately she wanted to say that to herself, but she only nodded, squeezing the girl's hand one last time before she sat up. She felt Ivar's eyes on her then, only for a moment before he went back to watching his cup and she felt her forehead furrowing in a slight crease.

Why wouldn't he free her?

Somehow it made no sense, somehow it made the most sense of all. He'd said it himself, she was a slave, no need to complicate things. She was here to look after his children and she didn't need to be free to do that at all. Her mouth opened to speak, to ask him if that really was all she was to him, but then her shoulders dropped, her chest heaving and her eyes stinging. She laid down then, wrapping the furs around her and burying her face in her palms, not needing to hear the answer, not wanting to.

She was with Freya and Frigga, organising what few belongings they had in the chests throughout the room, when they heard the thunder of boots on wood. Enid's heart leapt to her throat as she reached for Frigga, holding her to her chest and coming to stand beside Freya. For a moment she thought she had misheard, for a moment she thought she heard them walking away, but then she saw a woman, so tall and thin, her sharp features making her face look almost like a bird's, like a falcon's.

She stood in the doorway, tilting her head to the side, her bright blue eyes shining in the dim candlelight as she stared into the room, her long, dark hair rippling freely over her shoulder and mixed with thin braids and golden beads as she stared and stared.

"Princess," Freya said, and those eyes fell on Freya, her head tilting further, her face growing sharper for only a second before the woman smiled.

"I don't believe we've met," she said. "But you must be Freya. I'm sorry to hear what happened to your farm. Don't worry, my husband will take good care of it until you return... And this must be Frigga."

Freya turned, staring at Frigga in Enid's arms before she took her and stepped forward. Enid almost held her back, she almost pulled at her shoulder and dragged her away from those terrible, shining eyes, but then she saw Freya bouncing Frigga in her arms and making her laugh.

"She is," Freya nodded.

"She's not much younger than my Little Gro," the Princess smiled and for a little while she said nothing else. "I was good friends with your mother when we were younger, Freya, I hope we will be too. Come to me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Princess," Freya said, but then she turned, studying the Princess, her cold eyes unblinking, her head tilting to the side. For a long while she said nothing, for a long while they only stared at each other, the Princess raising her eyebrows, that smile still on her lips. "There is something." Freya said, her eyes still fixed on the Princess' face.