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Arberrang was alive, which was more than anyone could have hoped for even a month previous. As the days lengthened, marked by the proper rising and setting of the sun, life was beginning to reassert itself. Two women, human and dredge, had given birth in the past weeks, and already the fields beyond the old walls were greening with new grass. All of it, every trace of life, had come within a breath of being extinguished. They had stood on the knife’s edge, and they had survived.
The doors of the great hall were flung wide open to catch the breeze of the fine day, and just within sat a quartet of comrades, enjoying the luxury of sitting still. The novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet.
“There’s a pleasing symmetry to it,” Aleo was saying. “I can see why people like the idea.”
“You humans do enjoy that sort of thing, don’t you?” Ubin chuckled. The scrivener and the skald had become fast friends in recent days, learning just how much they had in common. Aleo shrugged, smiling.
“A failing of our brief lives, perhaps. But you must admit, Ludin earned his kingship up on those walls, and Alette has proven herself a chieftain without equal. Of course people would think them a good match.”
“As symbols,” Oddleif said, her eyes fixed on the arrows she mended. “But these are people we’re talking about.”
“Kings and chieftains are symbols,” Aleo pointed out.
“Once maybe. But look around us. Outside this hall, dredge and horseborn are helping men and varl rebuild this city. This is a new age, a new world. Why should we do things the way we did before?”
“A new age,” Ubin murmured, his eyes bright. Almost unconsciously, he reached for his penknife and began sharpening a fresh quill. Aleo smiled in wry defeat.
“You’re quite right, Oddleif. But people talk.”
“People gossip.”
“We gossip,” Iver said from the depths of his chair. The others started; they thought he’d been dozing. “And that’s all it is. Anybody who’s been paying attention knows it’s not Ludin she’s got eyes for, and she’s going to do as she sees fit. She’s her father’s daughter.”
※※※※※※※
Alette suspected that this was courting. She didn’t have any first hand experience with it, so she couldn’t be completely certain, but she and Egil had settled into a nice rhythm – whatever their individual responsibilities during the day, they would go for a walk in the evening, watch the sun set together, and talk. It was nice, to wander aimlessly through the city streets, to climb the walls, to watch Arberrang come back to life. It was nice to sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder, her head resting against his, as stars dotted the sky. And it was nice to talk, and give voice to the things she’d felt she couldn’t say before, the fears and the doubts she’d had to quash. In the safety of the now, and in Gil’s kind, quiet company, she could grapple with the ghosts, and even let some of them rest.
She marveled that he didn’t seem to have any, until he corrected her. “Of course I was scared, Alette. Of course it hurts to know that so many people were lost. I just…couldn’t let myself focus on that.”
“Up on the walls, they were calling you Egil the Hopeful. Hardened men, three times our age. And they weren’t mocking you. They respected you for it. I admit, it meant a lot to me that you could be that, even at the worst.”
“Well, you’d said we had to hold. So we did. Or we died.”
“But even that didn’t scare you, did it?”
He’d walked along in thoughtful silence for a moment, eyes unfocused. “Iver first started to train me when I was eleven. I couldn’t lift my dad’s shield then, not even with both hands. And I was scared. I’d seen my mom die, I didn’t know what was going to happen to me… And he told me, ‘The worst that will happen is that you’ll die. And when you do, will you be able to look your father in the eye and tell him his shield held to the last?’”
Alette had smiled faintly. “That sounds like Iver.”
“I realized that if that was the only thing to fear from death that it couldn’t be so bad.” He’d looked at her, returning her smile. “But I’m much happier to be alive.” He caught her hand, his strong, calloused fingers in hers. “Especially now.”
Yes, they were definitely courting, which left her wondering what step, exactly, came next. She felt like she had a few vague ideas, and those scraps of understanding intrigued her, even as they set a whole skyful of butterflies loose in her gut.
But today was different. He didn't come find her after dinner, and there was still no sign of him as the torches were lit in the streets. Concerned, and mildly put out, she went in search of him. None of the other fighters or guardsmen claimed to have seen him, and she thought she saw more than one of them shake their head as she passed, as if in pity. For who?
She finally found him in the common near the old gate. It was never closed at night anymore; there didn't seem to be any reason to. He was staring off into the dark as she approached. “Gil? Is something wrong?”
He turned, his honest brow creased with confusion. Or was it hurt? She wasn't sure. “Alette. I'm – I'm fine.” He was a terrible liar.
She crossed her arms. “I'm having trouble believing that.”
He sighed heavily. “May as well get this over with,” he muttered, almost to himself. Dread crept over her as he took another deep breath and drew himself up. Which was absurd – she’d faced the very end of the world! Why should she be afraid of what he had to say?
But she was.
“Alette, you know that more than anything else, I respect you. I don't have any claim on you, and you don't owe me anything. So if you want to marry Prince Ludin, all I can say is that I want you to be happy.”
Her comprehension of language abruptly ceased. She blinked at him hard, trying to parse what she had just heard. Finally, after what felt like a varl’s age, she managed, “If I WHAT?”
It was his turn to be confused. “Some of the men were talking…saying you and Prince Ludin were be to married.”
“Why would they say that?”
“He’s prince, well, king here. And you're the chieftain of Skogr.”
“So?”
“Well…” He obviously didn't have an answer for that.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” she exclaimed. “Who would ever think I’d want to marry Ludin? WHY would they think I’d want to marry Ludin?”
“So… you don't want to?” he asked cautiously.
“Of course not! I like him well enough – he’s certainly not the yox’s ass he was when we first met – but marry him?” She snorted. “No.”
“Oh.” Egil tugged at the hem of his tunic, unsure of what to do with his hands. In the torchlight, Alette could see a flush seeping up his neck. “Now I feel like the yox’s ass.”
She smiled a little. He was adorable sometimes – well, all the time, honestly. “You could have asked me about it before making a big dramatic proclamation.”
“Guess I should leave that to Aleo, huh?”
“Yeah, probably.” Her smile widened, and his own mouth curved, shy and embarrassed.
“I'm sorry, Alette.”
“It's okay.” She stepped closer to him, taking one of his uncertain hands in hers. They stood together quietly, and she found herself studying his profile. She’d known him so long, since they were kids, and she’d never realized how much she had relied on his presence. He’d been there every step of the way, solid and unbending as his extraordinary shield. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she appreciated how well that shield suited him. Just like it, he was unbreakable. He would hold to the last. Egil the Hopeful, they called him. Egil the Constant.
Egil the Beloved.
“Gil? What you said at Lauga's godstone – is that still true?”
He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. “It's truer now than it was when I first said it.”
She looked into his beautiful, steadfast eyes, her heart pounding. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, it wasn't fear or anger that animated her pulse, but joy. “I love you too.”
“You do?” he blurted. She nodded, laughing, a laugh that turned into an elated yelp as he grabbed her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the air. He stared up at her, his face bright, for a moment before lowering her back to the ground. They were only a few inches apart, so close it almost seemed like more effort not to kiss. He licked his lips nervously. “May I-”
“Yes.”
She had suspected his kiss would be sweet and gentle, and it was. But under the honey, there was a heat that made her skin tingle and her limbs weak. This was the next step, this and more, and suddenly her understanding was very clear.
When their lips parted, they found it difficult to step away. She seemed to belong next to him, her forehead against his cheek, his hands warm on her back. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmured.
“What kept you?”
“Well, at first, the knowledge that your father could kill me.” They both smiled at that. “Then…there just wasn't ever a good time.”
“This was a good time,” she said. He kissed her again in reply.
Finally, with a colossal effort, he stepped a half step back. “It's late,” he said. “I guess we should- I mean you and I-” He couldn't find a way to finish the thought.
“We should go to bed,” she agreed, clinging to her newfound clarity. “But you can't kiss me like that and think we’re not going to follow up on it.”
“Oh yeah?” He tried for nonchalance, but he was grinning hugely, and she smiled back.
“Yeah. Not tonight, but soon. There’ll be a time for that too. Really soon.”
※※※※※※※
Oddleif was getting ready for bed, banking the fire in the small house she and Alette shared near the Great Hall. The door opened, and she smiled to herself. Back from the evening’s walk. She was glad that Alette and Egil, after the uncertainties and terrors of the past months, finally had the time to slow down and properly work through their feelings for each other. What a relief, that the world had finally regained enough sanity to give two young people the space to figure out that they were in love.
She turned as Alette entered, cheeks pink. But there was a thoughtfulness to her flushed pleasure, and Oddleif raised an eyebrow. “Have a nice time?”
“Yes, definitely. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re still up, Odd. I was hoping we could talk.”
“What about?”
Alette glanced down, smoothing and resmoothing her skirt for a moment before taking a resolute breath and saying, “Being with a man. I know the basics, but I was thinking it was time I knew some details.”
So it had been a very nice time.
Oddleif found herself similarly inhaling. She’d watched this girl grow up, from gawkiness to grace, from fearful to formidable, watched her fight, suffer, struggle, and mourn, watched her make choices that would doubtless haunt her for the rest of her life. She took a long look at Alette – friend, surrogate daughter, sister-in-arms, chieftain, and her first thought was, Neither of us is old enough to be having this conversation. She took another deep breath, and said instead, “We should have a drink.”