“Include me. Make him listen.”
Ragnar opened his mouth to respond but footsteps approached. “Me jarl!” Freyr’s voice cut through the moment. “A word?”
Ragnar’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Wait here,” he told Isolda, then moved several paces away to the half-constructed platform.
Isolda pretended to study a nearby cart piled with fishing nets, but she edged closer, using a group of villagers as cover, her heart hammering.
“—scouts are reportin’ movement near the northern shore.” Freyr’s voice came clearer. “Three boats, Ragnar.”
“How far out?” His voice was clipped.
“Far enough that it could be naethin’. Close enough that I smell trouble.” He paused, his hand coming up to gesture. “Ye need tae be careful, Ragnar. ThisÞýðleikris changin’ ye, ye’re nae thinkin’ wi’ a clear head?—”
“I’m naeattached.”
“Then why are ye here instead of coordinatin’ patrols from the keep? Why are ye movin’ council meetin’s tae shadow her?”
Isolda’s breath caught, and her hand shot upwards to stifle the sound.
“Ye sure ye can afford tae care this much? Douglas is circlin’, and if he smells blood?—”
“She’s mewife, Freyr.”
“Aye. And every day ye let her matter more is another weakness that can be exploited.”
“That’s nae fair.” Ragnar said, but there was no heat in it. “I cannae just abandon?—”
“Maybe nae. But it daesnae mean I’m wrong.”
“I’m nae discussin’ this here wi’ ye.”
“Then when? Because?—”
“I said nae here.”
Isolda retreated to a safer distance, her pulse racing. Freyr had fallen silent but she could feel the weight of his disapproval even from this distance.
When Ragnar returned, his expression gave nothing away. “Ready tae head back?”
She wanted to ask him why he was moving his schedule around on her behalf, ask about what Freyr had said, but she knew pushing for truth wouldn’t help.
“Aye,” she said instead. “I’m ready.”
They’d barely started walking when a voice called out.
“Me lady!” A young woman approached with a toddler balanced on her hip. “Beggin’ yer pardon, me laird, me lady.” She shifted the child to her other hip. “But I just wanted tae thank ye.”
Isolda blinked at her. “Thank me? What fer?”
“Fer speakin’ yer mind about the grain—me husband’s one of the farmers, ye ken. He’s been fashin’ about the harvest. Kennin’ the jarl’s wife understands our fears…” she trailed off, a tentative smile settling on her face. “Well, it helps. Makes us feel seen.”
Ragnar looked down at her, and something raw settled in the lines of his face. then, his hand found hers, fingers threading through hers with familiar ease, and this time Isolda didn’t hesitate—she squeezed back, holding on tightly.
“Ye defended me.” She said quietly as they started the walk back. “In front of everyone.”
“Anyone who questions ye, questions me.”
She swallowed. “Well, nay one’s ever… cared. Nae about me opinion, and nae whether people respected me. So thank ye.”
