Esa hovered at Brynn’s back, a satchel slung over her shoulder.She looked small and vulnerable, her auburn curls bouncing round her face like even they were frightened.
Hróarr spoke with the steward in a booming, jovial tone.Brynn might not understand the words, but she recognized the manner.She wondered distantly if perhaps Hróarr was this friendly with everyone.Perhaps this was just how he was.
Cenric glanced to Guin.“We have a meeting.You might want Esa to keep her.”
Brynn handed the little dyrehund to Esa and she immediately began whining.Guin whirled on Cenric, ears pinned back as she let off another growl.
Guin never growled at Brynn and not even Esa, but she growled and snarled at Cenric quite often.
Cenric remained silent for another moment.Brynn was getting used to her husband doing that with the dyrehunds, but it was still odd at times.
“What does she say?”Brynn watched as the little dyrehund went back to squirming.
He grimaced slightly.“She still won’t speak to me.”Cenric could hear the thoughts of all his dyrehunds, and while Guin should be of an age to communicate with him, she hadn’t.
Brynn looked to the puppy, tempted to take her back.
“She’ll be fine, Brynn.”Cenric took her arm and hooked it through his.
“Where are we going?”Brynn inhaled, composing herself.
“We’re heading to see Ovrek.”
Surprise and consternation almost made her stumble.“So soon?”
“He wanted to see me as soon as I arrived.”Cenric said the words calmly, but in a tight way that told her he was bracing himself.
Like most things thus far, Brynn wasn’t sure how to take this information.Was this normal?
Kings in Hylden did not send for their aldermen at the drop of a pin, but this was not Hylden.This might be normal, for all she knew.
“But I’m not ready to meet a king.”Brynn plucked at the edges of her unadorned mantle, the words tripping out awkwardly.“I’m dressed for traveling.”
“So am I,” Cenric offered a slight smile.“You don’t have to fret, Brynn.”
She didn’t like any of this, but she refused to miss this meeting just because of her clothes.
Ovrek’s steward led them past the docks and dozens of smoking forges into what appeared to be the proper portions of the city.They walked through streets planned out far better than she’d seen in Glasney and even in some parts of Ungamot.
She’d thought Valdar a loose confederation of clan chiefs, jarls, and village headmen.Perhaps what she and her people had heard of them had been understated.
They passed a forge with open walls where men worked at smelting alongside boys covered in soot.They hammered at clumps of glowing ore, shaping the iron into long lengths of spearheads.At least a dozen more were cooling on racks.
Brynn tried not to show a reaction.A gaggle of children rushed past them, play-fighting with sticks that had been fashioned into the likeness of spears.The flaps of their woolen caps flew around their faces, framing ruddy cheeks and snotty noses.They shouted at each other in Valdari, running this way and that.
No one acknowledged them when they raced by, but no one scolded them when they got underfoot, either.The little ones play-fought, sparring with a sloppiness not unlike Guin’s playfighting with Snapper.
Brynn’s chest tightened heavily, that distant sadness calling to her the way it did at random times.Her son would never run carefree through streets like this.He’d barely been walking when he had been killed.
“Brynn?”Cenric must have noticed her watching.
Brynn cleared her throat, looking ahead.“Forgive me.They seem to be having a time of it.”
“They’re making the most of youth,” Cenric chuckled.“We’ve all had our time with children’s games.”
Brynn and her sister hadn’t.If they had, she didn’t remember it.Whenever she had children with Cenric, she hoped they would get to play like this.She hoped they would grow up in a world that was safe enough.
Brynn’s chest squeezed a little at the thought.She’d expected to be carrying Cenric’s child by now.She was trying to be patient but was bracing herself to be disappointed again this month.Why was it taking so long?
