“The jarl has doubled patrols—” started Isolda.
“And what good are patrols when they strike us in the dead of night?” Siggy’s eyes found Isolda. “Beggin’ yer pardon, me lady, but ‘tis easy fer ye castle folk tae speak of protection when ye’re safe behind those walls.”
Isolda’s heart clenched, though her shame burned hotter than anything ever could.
“Ye’re right.” Isolda said softly. “I havenae earned the right tae speak of protection when I’ve done naethin’ tae contribute tae it.” She moved closer. “I cannae change what’s happened, but if there’s anythin’—anythin’—I can dae tae help, ye need only ask.”
Siggy blinked, clearly surprised. “I didnae mean?—”
“Ye meant exactly what ye said, and ye have every right tae say it.”
For a long moment, Siggy studied her, then, slowly, her expression softened. “Ye’re nae what I expected, me lady.”
“Well, that makes two of us then.” Isolda admitted. “But I’m tryin’ tae figure it out.”
They visited three more homes after that, each bearing similar marks of violence and intimidation. Liv tended to injuries while Isolda mixed potions and poultices and dispensed remedies,making an effort to listen to everyone’s stories and offer what little comfort she could.
By the time they’d finished, Isolda’s anger had crystallized into something harder, sharper.
“This has tae stop,” she said.
“Aye,” Liv agreed. “But wars dinnae stop just because we wish them tae, me lady.”
They were making their way toward the village square when movement caught Isolda’s eye—and her pulse kicked.
Ragnar stood near a half-constructed watch platform, his sleeves rolled up despite the chill in the air, speaking with the men around him. He’d dressed for labor rather than a proper visit—dark leather and wool and Isolda noticed the sawdust covering his coiled, veiny forearms when he pointed toward the platform’s western corner.
Ye’d swear the man’s a honey cake and I havenae eaten in a week!
She couldn’t tear her eyes away, entranced with the way he moved, directing workers with a gesture here, a quiet word there—it reminded her of a craftsman shaping something worth the effort. He never raised his voice, his posture was relaxed and he was present, helping the men lift the heavy timber instead of just supervising.
Then, he crossed the space toward them.
“Lady Isolda.” His voice was formal, but his eyes swept over her. “Liv.”
“Me jarl.” Liv greeted him with a smile. “Come tae inspect the village, have ye?”
“Somethin’ like that.” He said, his eyes still fixed on Isolda. “How are ye findin’ it?”
“Everyone’s been welcomin’.”
“Och, she’s lyin’.” Liv said cheerfully. “But nay harm, nay foul, and ‘tis a kind lie, so I’ll allow it.”
Ragnar’s brow lifted. “Walk wi’ me?”
Liv made some excuse about checking on another patient and disappeared with remarkable speed, leaving Isolda alone with Ragnar and the four guards who maintained a discreet distance.
“The new guard tower,” he said, gesturing toward the construction. “is comin’ along nicely. It’ll give better sight lines tae the coast—should spot trouble comin’ in time.”
“Will it be enough?”
“Nay.” His honesty surprised her. “But ‘tis a start.”
Isolda studied the villagers going about their day. “They’re scared.”
“Aye.”
T’will be me life if Douglas wins.
