Chapter Sixteen

"So Jarl Knut wants us to lead a raid on one of Jarl Sigurd's farms?" she heard Ivar ask, and she looked down, feeding Frigga another spoonful of stew as she sat on her lap, not sure what all of this meant, not sure what it would mean for herself.

"Yes," Rolf answered. "And he'll make sure you're well compensated for your troubles."

She felt them then, how heavy those eyes were on her face as she sat there, cradling Frigga, so she glanced up, seeing Rolf leaning against the table, taking a big gulp of mead from his cup and staring at her. Why did he keep watching her? Why was it that no one stopped him?

"He wants you or me to lead them, cousin?" Ivar asked, and Rolf flicked his eyes to him, his face cold and stern for a moment before he laughed and took another sip.

"Why? Do you have a preference, Ivar?"

"I won't take orders from you, Rolf."

"And I won't take orders from you," Rolf smiled. "But luckily for us, Jarl Knut has asked me to lead a party to strike at another piece of land at the same time, so there's no problem," he shrugged, but Enid watched Ivar lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring into the flames with eyes that were distant and hazy.

"How many men?" Ivar asked.

"Thirty for you and thirty for me."

"Those are good numbers," Ivar sighed, rubbing his chin and looking at Rolf. "Tell him I agree, but I want to lead my own party on the raids this summer."

"Why ask for more, Ivar?" Rolf sighed. "You'll get more than enough gold just from this raid, why-,"

"Those are my terms," Ivar cut in, and for a long while there was nothing but silence, for a long while Enid felt the tension in the room grow thicker and almost choke her, but then Rolf laughed, lifting his cup up to Ivar and taking a sip.

"He'll agree," he said.

"Good," Ivar nodded.

"Does that mean I can come on the raid too?" Tyr asked, leaning forward on his stool to look at his father, but Rolf laughed, patting him on the shoulder and ruffling his hair.

"You'll get your chance, Tyr," Rolf said. "Get your armring first and then ask."

"But-," Tyr started.

"Enough, it's time for bed," Ivar cut in, and Enid watched Tyr's shoulders drop and that sadness spring into his eyes.

A part of her wanted so desperately for him to get what he wanted and to be happy, but a part of her hoped that he never would as Tyr sighed, scuffing his heels on the ground underneath him and slinking off to the ladder.

"Come on, Enid," he mumbled.

"No, she has to clean up." Ivar said, and Enid stared at him, her eyes big and wide, a chill running down her spine.

Tyr looked at him too, his head tilting to the side as he did and Enid saw it, how he was about to argue, how he was about to make his father angry and risk so much more than just her safety.

"Go up," she said. "I'll pass Frigga to you."

Tyr looked back at her, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment, but she smiled, nodding to him and hoping that he would listen, and then he sighed again, leaping up the steps and reaching his hands down for Frigga. Enid didn't want to let go, she wanted so desperately to cling to the girl, she wanted to shake her head and race for that loft, but she could feel them, those eyes that bore holes into her back and knew that there was no way she would make it even if she tried. She smiled at Tyr again, nodding when he took Frigga from her and letting her hands fall to her sides, and she wanted to pray then, wanted to ask for help, but she couldn't find the words, and then she had to stifle it, that curt, short laugh she felt building inside her chest. Fate, whatever happened to her tonight had it already been decided? Was there any way she could even fight it?

She turned, taking their empty bowls and collecting the ones the children had left behind. So slowly she went to the back room, to that basin of water and braced herself. She was almost finished when she heard it, some part of her had almost believed that it wouldn't happen, that she had overreacted and imagined those looks in her head, but then she heard those boots behind her and heard him growl in that deep and terrible voice, "Back to our business, slave."