A Flame Put Out by Erin S. Riley

win.”
    Although Ulfrik had addressed Einarr, his words seemed to be meant just as much for Gunnar. The threat behind them was unmistakable. Gunnar raked his good eye over Ulfrik and leaned close. “One would think Alrik was still your Hersir, cousin,” he sneered.
    “Then one would be wrong.” Ulfrik met the man’s stare. “But I know my brother well. He will fight to the death if his wife’s honor is disparaged.”
    Gunnar glowered. “The business I have to settle with Alrik Ragnarson has nothing to do with his wife,” he rumbled. “But if it’s a fight he wants, I’ll be happy to oblige him.”
    The words Ulfrik had spoken to Selia earlier came flooding back. Alrik won’t live forever, and the instant he dies, I’ll be there waiting. Was this part of his plan—to have another man kill Alrik, so he could then step in and take her for his own? Although it would seem to an outsider that he was discouraging Gunnar and Einarr from returning, nothing Ulfrik said could be taken at face value. It wasn’t much of a leap to imagine the master tafl player planting seeds of dissent, then standing back to wait for them to germinate.
    A sickening fear gripped Selia’s belly as she stood. “You should have left them out in the storm, Hrefna,” she spat, then switched to Irish as she addressed Gunnar. “I find it highly offensive that you would come into Alrik’s house and make threats against him. You are a dishonorable man, Gunnar Klaufason. When you take your leave tomorrow, know that none of you will be welcomed back.” Selia gave Ulfrik a pointed look. “Ever.”
    Gunnar’s face flushed blood red, and his fists clenched the edges of the table. Neither Hrefna nor Einarr knew enough Irish to understand what Selia had said, but it was clear she had reprimanded him, and they both reacted with stunned expressions.
    Selia turned to Einarr, addressing him in Norse. “And you. I tell you now I have no interest in any other man but my husband. I think you cannot find a wife because you are ill-mannered, not because you are a berserker.”
    Einarr’s jaw dropped. “Allow me to apologize. I meant no offense,” he sputtered, looking very contrite. “Please forgive me.”
    Selia glared at him for a moment, then gave him a terse nod. Anything to be through with this conversation. But as she stepped over the bench she saw his eyes widen at the brief flash of her ankle, and he smiled at her. Did this dim-witted man think she was playing games with him?
    Disgusted, she strode into the bedchamber, shutting the door firmly behind her. Despicable Finngalls. What had Hrefna been thinking, letting them in the house? She lay on the bed and hugged Alrik’s pillow tightly to her body, breathing in through her nose, needing his scent. But he had been gone for so long, his pillow no longer smelled like him.
    It smelled like nothing at all.
    At Hrefna’s insistence, Selia slept with her that night, in order for Hallveig and Geirr to have Selia’s bed. Gunnar’s men took up every available bench in the main room, with overflow on the floor by the hearth, and Hrefna was concerned lest an overeager, drunken man take Hallveig by force. Selia wasn’t sure if the woman’s anxiety was for Hallveig’s sake or Geirr’s, since the potential rape of his nursemaid would leave the babe unsupervised. But she agreed to the change in sleeping arrangements without an argument.
    Although more than ready for sleep, she lay awake, and tossed, longing for her own familiar bed and Alrik next to her in it. She missed him with a terrible, gnawing ache. The fact that Ulfrik, and now Einarr, resembled him to such a degree was like salt in her wound. It seemed wrong for them to be here and Alrik not. Selia cried hot tears of self-pity as Hrefna snored beside her.
    Since seeing Ulfrik again, she’d had an unpleasant feeling deep in her gut which had nothing to do with her unrelenting nausea. It was an ugly sense of guilt that worried at her, and she