Chapter Fifty-nine

Enid's cheeks were burning, her chest heaving as she splashed water to her face and on the back of her neck, and then she felt that twinge in her wrist, felt her fingers growing stiffer and stiffer and those blisters begin to sting. She opened her palm, glaring at them as she trailed them under her thumb and tutted, but then she heard that laugh, as he crouched down next to her and wash the sand from his face.

"They'll get better," he said, gripping her hand in his and checking them. "Your skin's just getting tougher."

Enid stared at him, her eyes trailing his face, lingering on that light in his eyes and then that soft smile on his lips. So long she crouched there, not saying a word, not even pulling her hand free of his, and then he leaned closer, his face then inches from hers, that light in his eyes suddenly cold and sharp.

"What?" he snapped, and Enid's eyes went big and wide, when she fell backwards with a yelp and landed in the sand.

For a moment she expected him to laugh, for a moment she waited for him to break that silence between them and make everything easy again, but he only stared at her, those eyes unblinking, his fingers rubbing some sand between them as he crouched beside her.

"Nothing," she whispered.

"You've been staring at me all evening. What do you want to say, Enid?"

"I haven't. I-,"

He tutted then, spitting on the sand and sitting to stare out at the water in front of them, his eyes so dark, his forehead knotted in a deep, tight crease. She watched him so closely, her heart racing in her throat, her questions dying on her tongue, but she had to ask them. She couldn't let the whole family down by backing away now, so she sighed, moving to sit next to him and wringing her fingers in her lap.

"It's just…" she said. "I thought things were different here. I thought people married each other because they wanted to, but… that's not how your mother talks about you. It's not that I don't get it. I was going to marry that blacksmith and we didn't love each other, but he wanted a wife and he could give me a good life," she shrugged. "There wasn't much more to think about, but Ivar… the way he talks about Helga," she shook her head. "I never imagined anyone could feel like that and… I thought that's what everyone did here."

He laid down then, resting on his elbow and smiling at her. "Are you worried about me, Enid?"

"No!" she snapped. "Maybe… It's just… you've been good to me, Erik. I want you to be happy at least."

"I am happy," he smiled, and she stared at him then, not knowing if she trusted that smile, not knowing if that light in his eyes was real or just a game.

"Are you?" she whispered.

"Do you want me to be happier?" he asked, that smile on his face turning into a grin.

"Just answer the question, Erik," she said, and that grin vanished then, his head tilting to the side and the light in his eyes dimming as he slowly sat up, his eyes never leaving her face, his body then stiff and tense.

"You mean it, right, Enid?" he asked. "You're not just asking because I'm nice to you?"

She stared at him, her forehead lining in a slight crease. "I'm not," she said, and he leaned back then, resting his palms into the sand behind them and laughing, a laugh that was curt, that was short and somewhat cold.

"I don't love her," he said. "I don't think I've ever loved anyone, not like that anyway, but I have to marry her and that's not her fault," he sighed. "Just like it's not mine. I'll keep an open heart. Maybe we'll love each other in time. Maybe we won't, but we'll love our children. Maybe the gods will take one of us before any of that can happen," he shrugged. "Knut is weak right now. If Sigurd attacks, we won't have many men to protect this place and they won't spare me, even if I survive the fight.

"Knut's not my father, everyone knows that, but he raised me like his own and I'll have to avenge him if Sigurd kills him and takes his land. That's why Sigurd and his men will kill me and Gorm. They might spare my mother and Little Gro, but…" he shrugged. "My fate's tied with Knut's either way. Happiness has very little to do with it."

Enid stared at him, something inside her breaking, something sharp that snapped and pricked at her insides, and she realised how heavy that weight was that he carried, how strong he was for still smiling when the ground could be ripped out from under him at any moment, so she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders so tightly she felt her muscles ache.

"You still deserve to be happy," she whispered, and he sat there for a moment, not moving, not even wrapping his own arms around her and then he laughed softly.

"What's gotten into you today?" he asked, and Enid sighed, that thing inside her still ripping and tearing, still pricking at everything that was soft, and she felt how her cheeks had gone wet, how her eyes were heavy and stinging no matter how many tears she shed.

"I don't know," she shook her head, pulling back and going to brush her tears away, but he got there first, running a thumb across her cheek and laughing softly to himself.

"Enid?" he asked.

"Enid!" she heard, and Erik's arm was pushed away as she was knocked backwards and she found herself staring at Tyr's back. She could see it, that stiff tension coursing through his body and his fingers resting on the head of his axe on his belt.

"What did you do to her?" he asked, his voice suddenly deep and low, and Erik leaned back, resting on his palms and staring up at the boy with a soft smile on his lips.

"He didn't do anything, Tyr. We were just talking," Enid said.

"Why is she crying?" Tyr snapped.

"Tyr…" Enid sighed.

"You don't like it when she cries, Tyr?" Erik smiled, and Tyr's fingers wrapped around the head of his axe as he made to lift and wield it, but then Enid stood, pulling Tyr away, her muscles aching with the effort.

"Leave him alone, Erik," she sighed.

"I didn't start this!" Erik laughed, sitting up to brush the sand from his palms. "But I have some things I need to do before dinner so," he stood then, his thumbs hooked in his belt, his eyes fixed on Tyr. "I'll be going, unless you want to fight me, Tyr?"

Enid felt Tyr tense, saw him jerking forward with his face scrunched up in a fierce scowl, and she pulled him away, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and glaring at Erik as they walked back to the longhouse, but Erik only smiled, his eyes half-closing as he watched them go, his chest rising and falling as he laughed quietly to himself.

"I don't like him," Tyr mumbled when they were back in the room, and Enid saw Ivar's head flick up, saw those eyes narrowing into thin slits as he watched the two of them.

"Erik?" he asked.

"Yes," Tyr hissed. "I bet it was him."

"Tyr…" Enid sighed. "I-,"

"He made Enid cry," Tyr cut in, his body hunched over as he whispered to the others, and all three faces flicked to stare at her, Freya's eyes big and wide, the others frowning.

"What?" Ivar asked, his face suddenly dark and stiff.

"It wasn't like that," Enid shook her head, coming to crouch beside them so she could whisper, "We were just talking, like we were when you made me cry down by the river, Tyr."

"You made Enid cry!" Freya hissed, kicking at the stool under Tyr and glaring at him.

"What did you do, Tyr?" Ivar asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes now cold and sharp.

"It wasn't like that!" Enid said. "We were just talking then too."

But she watched that scowl grow deeper and Ivar's hands clench in front of him as he stared at Tyr, and Tyr looked away, his head bowed, the colour draining from his cheeks.

"Stop it," Enid hissed, hitting Ivar's leg and making Tyr jump. "He didn't do anything, neither did Erik," she said, looking at Tyr. "And you can't say anything, you're the one who's made me cry the most, Ivar."

She watched that scowl leave his face, watched those eyes go soft and dim as he bowed his head. Those fists went slack as he wrung his fingers in his palms and stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and they all stared at him, Enid seeing her own surprise mirrored on the children's faces.

"It's alright, Ivar," she whispered, reaching for his arm. "I didn't mean it like that, I-,"

"I'm sorry, Enid," he cut in, this time looking at her, this time his eyes shining bright in the dim candlelight. "For everything. Everything that happened to you is my fault, I know that. And… I never should've whipped you. You deserve better, Enid, better than me anyway."

Just those words lifted something from her heart, something big and heavy, something that had her almost sighing with relief, and she felt it again, how her cheeks were wet, felt that laugh building in her chest as she brushed away her tears.

"See?" she said, "You're doing it again, Ivar."

She fell forward, landing on her knees so that she could bury herself in his chest as he kissed the top of her head and sighed, his breath warming her skin and making her cheeks burn hot.

"You cry too easily, Enid," Freya sighed, and Enid laughed then, pulling away from Ivar and drying her tears.

"Probably," she said. "I can't help it when people say nice things to me."

"So Erik said nice things to you?" Tyr hissed, and Enid saw that scowl on his face, saw those eyes go dark and cold.

Suddenly he wasn't a child anymore. Suddenly he looked so much like someone else, so she laughed then, shaking her head and smiling.

"No," she said. "But he was talking about himself and…" she turned, staring up at Ivar and shaking her head again. "He said enough for me to think that it wasn't him. I don't think it was Gro either. I don't think she'd risk her son's life like that."

Ivar studied her a moment, his eyes almost staring straight through her before he sighed. "Maybe not," he said. "But now it will be even harder to figure it out."