The Bride of a Viking

Chapter Eight

Night crept by and still, Aila had not been disturbed. She lied in a pool of her sweat, too drained to remove the covers. Her body ached where Tove had grabbed her. His fingers had dug in painfully. Remembering the events of last night made her want to cry again. It felt as though she hadn't stopped crying since she was taken from her home.

     Aila didn't know how long she lied in bed before someone came to get her. It felt like days, but maybe it was only one. She wasn't entirely sure. A knock came at the door, and when Aila didn't respond, the door swung open. Nadine stood in the doorway, Ingrid behind her. The latter was dressed in a gown of rich blue, and adorned with rings on each finger. Her blonde hair was pulled back into an elegant updo full of braids and silver pins.

"Are you alright?" Nadine asked, approaching Aila gently. She held the back of her tanned skin up to Aila's forehead. "You don't have a fever," she said, looking relieved.

Ingrid didn't move any closer. She remained in the hall, watching with little interest. Aila wasn't sure what the girl had against her.

"I will send someone to get a bath ready," Nadine said. She removed Aila's coverings, sending a chill down her spine. The room was crisp. Without a fire going, the cold autumn breeze had swept in.

Aila sat up, with the help of Nadine's gentle hands. She wasn't sure why the girl had worried about her. Nobody else here did.

"I will be right back," Nadine said as she walked toward the hall. She politely asked the guard to have a bath brought up before returning to Aila. Ingrid finally stepped into the room, noticing the broken chair scattered along the wall. Her eyes widened with interest.

"What set him off?" She asked.

"What doesn't set him off?" Aila retorted.

Ingrid's expression turned grim. "He takes after our father in that regard," she mumbled, more to herself. Aila wondered if their father had hurt them in his rage, for the girl's face was a look of pain. Ingrid looked as if she were reliving a bad memory.

"I'm sorry," Aila said, and she meant it.

"For what?" Ingrid's face suddenly turned cold.

Nadine gave Aila a knowing look, as if saying later. They would have that conversation later.

Two men carried a large tub into the room, setting it by the fire. Servants piled in, filling it with water. It took a while, but when it was done, Nadine helped remove Aila's sweaty nightgown and directed her into the tub.

The water was hot and soothing to her aches. It felt refreshing to clean herself. Nadine gave Aila a sweet smile before heading to the hall with Ingrid. They let Aila take her time to bathe and dress into a dark green gown. It was beautiful and much finer than the ones Ingrid had been bringing her before. When she was dressed, the women came back in and Nadine helped braid Aila's hair.

"Thank you," Aila said. She felt pretty today. Her eyes weren't puffy or red anymore, and neither was the rest of her face. She had a sort of hollow look to her, but not as much as yesterday. She looked like a person who was healing.

     "You must be hungry," Nadine said sweetly. She grabbed Aila's hand and dragged her along to the dining hall. The three women sat around a table together, away from anyone else. Aila spotted Tove instantly. His eyes had found her the second she had stepped into the room. He didn't look remorseful in the slightest, instead, he wore a bright smile. Everyone gathered around him looked joyful. Everyone but Yrsa that was.

     "Why are you not sitting with your brother?" Aila asked.

     "I cannot stand that wife of his," she said. "In fact, I don't think anyone can."

     "Do you dislike all of his wives?"

     Ingrid looked at Aila with an irritated expression. "She is his only one... for now."

     Nadine quickly changed the subject, talking about gossip she'd overheard from the woman Aila had met the other day, who was sewing a blanket. It was something about Colden's younger sister, but Aila didn't pay much attention. She wondered where Colden was.

As if on queue, the man entered the dining hall, dressed in browns so dark they were almost black. His hair was an untamable curly mess, a rogue curl escaping to his forehead. His eyes looked blue today, Aila noted. She watched as he took a seat next to a group of men, a grin on his face.

     "He's pretty handsome, isn't he?" Ingrid said. Aila blushed. He was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen.