Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(16)

Watching her stride stiffly away had been the hardest thing I’d ever done. I’d wanted to race after her and tell her the truth, that I hated myself for hurting her, that I would rather kiss her than anyone else, that I was only trying to keep her safe.

But I’d remained rooted to my spot, covering my stinging cheek, knowing it had to be the last contact I ever had with her.

Nanna had been wise to warn me then. And her warning now was every bit as wise.





Chapter

6





Gunnar


I avoided Mikaela for a total of two days.

I didn’t plan to interact with her again, tried to keep busy with Torvald searching for the chalice, tried to remind myself of the peril I would bring to her if Bernhard learned of my feelings for her.

But I was too attuned to her presence, so that any time we were even remotely in the same area, I homed in on her as if she were the only one present. On the third morn, as I saddled my steed and readied to continue the search—which had, as usual, amounted to nothing—I watched Mikaela at the servants’ entrance.

She stood talking with a younger woman, one who shared a family resemblance. I knew Mikaela had a large family, was the oldest child of five or six. She’d long ago lost her twin sister, and I guessed the maiden was one of her younger sisters, no doubt Kirstin, the closest in age to Mikaela.

Mikaela pushed a bowl into Kirstin’s hands.

Kirstin shook her head and thrust the bowl back, but Mikaela took a step away and folded her arms. The move only outlined all the more just how thin Mikaela was—almost as thin as Nanna.

I halted in tightening the cinch. . . .

Mikaela was giving away her food to her family. And so was Nanna.

In fact, I had no doubt the bowl was Mikaela’s pottage, that she hadn’t taken a bite of it and was instead making her sister eat it. And the wrapped bundle in her arm was probably most of her and Nanna’s meal from the previous eve.

I straightened, anger shooting through me and stiffening my limbs. Mikaela and Nanna shouldn’t have to choose between feeding themselves and caring for their family. But that’s exactly what was happening and had likely been this way for weeks, since the stores from last harvest had run out.

The spring was always difficult, a hungering time. Until the vegetables began to grow, the villeins had little to eat from their own gardens and nothing to use for bartering at the market. They didn’t have hunting or fishing rights—although some resorted to doing so illegally. If only they had the whole of Hardanger Forest at their disposal, they’d have an easier time surviving.

Shortly after arriving, I’d learned of Bernhard’s plan to eliminate the jotunn who lived within the depths of the forest. While I agreed that it was past time to free the forest, especially for the poor people of Romsdal, I didn’t like Bernhard’s method of sending unarmed men to face the madman.

I’d wanted to offer Torvald’s and my services instead. But Torvald had only shaken his head and kept me from rushing rashly into the forest. “We have an obligation to the king and queen first,” he’d said. “Once we find the chalice, we can consider returning and assisting in killing the jotunn.”

I’d reluctantly agreed with him, but now I couldn’t stand back and do nothing while Mikaela and her family suffered from hunger.

As I stepped out of the shadows of the stables, a movement in the wide-open doorway of the forge nearby drew my attention. Holding a red-hot rod of steel, Frans was watching Mikaela and Kirstin too. He wore a long leather apron over his tunic, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal his thickly muscled arms. Even at the early hour, his hair was already plastered to his head from the sweat and heat of the workshop.

How could Frans allow Mikaela to waste away from lack of nourishment? Why didn’t he step in and do something to aid her?

His muscles flexed, and his eyes were dark beneath a furrowed brow.

Maybe he was helpless to change the situation. I suspected he’d probably already tried to convince Mikaela to take his daily rations. Knowing how stubborn Mikaela was, she’d never give in to him. But she would give in to me. I’d see to it.

I handed the reins of my steed to the nearest squire. “Tell Torvald I had an errand but shall be ready to go soon.” I’d arrived at the stables early just so I could observe Mikaela from a distance without anyone realizing it. Even so, Torvald wouldn’t mind waiting, especially once I informed him later that my delay had to do with her.

Of course, Torvald hadn’t addressed the issue again. But I’d sensed him watching me keenly a time or two as though trying to understand what was going on in my head and why my eagerness of the first day had turned into avoidance.

I ducked out of the stables into the busy inner bailey. With servants drawing water, feeding livestock, and scrubbing laundry in the cool spring morn, I hoped to cross the yard without notice. But as with earlier when I’d made my appearance, all eyes turned my direction, even Mikaela’s.

I wanted to glance at her with a smile or wink. But as I walked casually across the yard, I pretended not to notice her, just as I’d done on my way to the stables a short while ago. Once I disappeared within the confines of the castle, I sprinted forward, knowing I was taking a risk but not caring, not when Mikaela was suffering.

Bernhard stepped out of a stairwell, and we nearly collided. Taller than me by a few inches, he stumbled back and scowled, his eyes bloodshot, his hair unkempt, and his breath foul. From the rumpled condition of his leggings and tunic, he’d clearly just awoken and dragged himself out of bed without thought of grooming.