The other woman did not break eye contact. She stared unabashed, shamelessly so, as if waiting for Bryn to turn away first. When that didn’t happen, a small smile curved her mouth. “I do. I am not without mistakes of my own,” Caecilia said. “It is strange, standing on these lands.”
“It is strange to speak with you. I have never seen you with my own eyes, only heard tales of you sinking our vessels, often for no reason but existing in the sea.” Bryn chuckled dryly. “Now I know that is not the case and we deserved your rage.”
“A good thing the king of lies is now gone, then,” Caecilia replied. “And that a better man has taken his place.”
Sigurd dipped his head, aiming a smile at Bryn. “I will do my best, but my queen is the true power here.”
Bryn returned his smile. Coming to accept his place as king would take Sigurd some adjustment, but she knew he was up to the task. He already had the respect of the armies and the drottin. The rest would come in time.
“What happens now?” Joren asked. “I’ve kept the military presence here light enough to maintain order, but we’ve no desire to cause a disturbance among the people. They fear us, rightly so, after we annihilated their forces and swept in to claim the port.”
“I will speak with the city elders,” Bryn told them. “I’d like for you to be there as well. Soon, I will install a new jarl over this region and I would like them to be a familiar face to you. An…ally.”
A new jarl would be necessary now that Ragna had been both defeated and dishonored by surrender, soon to be stripped of her lands, her title, and all she’d ever earned. Bryn hated it, but the woman had gambled and bet on the wrong choice.
“Excellent,” Joren replied.
“Perhaps I should do that now,” Bryn said, slanting a glance at Caecilia. “If the princess would join me? You two must have much to discuss.”
Pleasure crinkled Caecilia’s eyes as she and Bryn shared a look. “Yes, I think that is a fine idea. Let us leave the boys behind to do women’s work and assure your people that no harm will come to them.”
Despite everything Bryn had expected, despite her fears and the trepidation of allying with those who had once haunted her seas, Caecilia offered her a hand Brynhildr proudly took in her own.
“I never imagined I’d witness the day when Caecilia would willingly walk off with a Ridaeron,” Joren murmured after the women departed. He watched them walking side by side into the city.
“It’s strange for me as well. Life has a funny way of taking unexpected turns. Like you.” Sigurd turned to face his friend again, trying to make out any differences. With the exception of the Atlantian armor molded to Joren’s upper body, he remained unchanged from the last day they sailed together. “I could have sworn that blow killed you. It would have done so to any lesser man. Yet here you are, rescued by the world serpent of all creatures, and now her husband. And a fish-man to boot, if Cara wasn’t messing with me.”
Joren tossed his head back and laughed. “Called me a fish-man, did she? I suppose that’s…close enough to the truth. To be honest, I don’t recall much of what happened after I was struck. I only know Caecilia saved me. Technically, you could say we saved each other.”
“I sense a story there.”
“An incredible and long story.” Joren replied, a soft smile on his face. “You speak like they do, you know.”
“Do I? I suppose living here for almost a year and a half will do that.” He rubbed his bearded chin, wondering how his friend saw him. If Joren and the others would resent him for abandoning their homeland.
His friend grinned. “You called her the world serpent. No one but the Ridaerons call her Jormungandr.” The smile slowly faded and he stepped closer, reaching up to place both hands on Sigurd’s shoulders. “Gods, All I’ve wanted for this past year was some way to free you again. Cara spoke of…horrible things. Are you all right? Are you truly happy here?”
“Better than the scary beast, right?” He chuckled, but the humor soon faded and he met his friend’s gaze straight on. “Yes. I’m happy, Joren.”
“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”
“I am. Truly. They haven’t converted me or forced me to do anything. I love Bryn and these people. They can’t all be painted with the same brush as Gunnar.”
Sigurd felt deeply scrutinized, pinned by Joren’s inquiring gaze, as if the other man could see beneath the surface and into him. Finally, the tense moment ended with a nod. And another tight embrace. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. Only disappointed we weren’t there for each other’s big day.”
“I didn’t think either of us would ever end up married, but yes, I wish I could have been there. I wish you could have been here. I…I wish for so much, but I wouldn’t go back and change things. As awful as it may sound, I think you and I both ended up exactly where we were meant to.”
His friend glanced toward the retreating women again. They had just turned the bend into the town, only the top of Bryn’s head visible. “I don’t know her. If not for you, I wouldn’t believe this kingdom could change, but I trust you, Cam—Sigurd. I trust you to know what’s right.”
“Thanks. Because, if we’re being frank, I should be the one worrying about you and your sorcerous mermaid-serpent.” He grinned as he said it. “Cara’s stories were a little difficult to follow so I’m not entirely sure what to call your wife. Maybe you’re the bewitched one.”
“Her stories may not be too far from the truth.” Joren’s eyes remained gentle, warm with amusement and happiness. “Come on,” he said, nodding to the Eislandic flagship moored near the bay. “Join me in my cabin for drinks, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know, as long as you tell me how one goes from being a slave to the husband of a queen.”
Chapter 26
Sigurd’s last memory of sailing on a Ridaeron ship was of a dank hold crammed tight with bodies, the air stinking with fear and the blood of his injured shipmates. This was different. He stood at the bow of the ship with the sea breeze against his face, the balmy wind of the tropical island warming his cheeks. He closed his eyes and breathed in the wonderful scent. Within the hour, they would reach Wai Alei, and with them came the minimum number of Ridaeron sailors required to safely sail the ship. They’d brought no war ship, at his request, selecting a smaller vessel with few cannons.
In hindsight, he wished he’d brought one of their larger vessels. King Thrym and his single attendant spent most of the journey on the deck, their rooms too small to be comfortable in for long, even when at their smallest size. They had set up a shelter near the aft end of the ship to provide the jotuns shade from the beating sun.
Both giants took the discomfort in stride, even seeming to enjoy themselves, but Sigurd hoped to build future ships that would accommodate their larger neighbors.
They’d also offered to return the freed thralls to their home kingdoms. Much to Bryn’s surprise, many had opted to remain in Ridaeron. But others had accepted, and they roamed the upper deck freely.