A Flame Put Out by Erin S. Riley Page A

couldn’t shake it no matter how hard she tried to rationalize her actions.
    As angry as she was with Ulfrik, there was no denying she had claimed Geirr for her own selfish reasons, as a way to keep her unborn child from suffering the fate of Hersir. Although there was as much chance Alrik was indeed Geirr’s father, the fact remained that Ulfrik had been willing to claim him, and had returned to the farmstead accordingly. Alrik would not have thought to declare the boy as his own unless encouraged to do so, and Ulfrik probably knew it.
    Hrefna had suggested Selia was ambivalent about her feelings for Geirr, and she supposed the same could be said about how she dealt with Ulfrik. He could not be trusted, yet she couldn’t bring herself to truly despise him. Even if his every kindness had been a calculated act meant to steal her away from Alrik, he had also saved her life as a child. Saved her from Alrik’s sword.
    Ulfrik professed to love her; that everything he had done was to keep her safe. Selia rubbed her belly. All her actions had also been meant to keep her own child safe. Could distasteful deeds be justifiable if performed in the name of love?
    Selia startled as she heard a stifled female scream coming from another part of the house. She sat up in bed and shook Hrefna awake.
    “What?” Hrefna mumbled. Then they both heard the shouting of men and a sudden ruckus, followed by a piercing cry from Geirr. Wearing only her shift, Hrefna leapt from the bed to race from the room. Selia followed close behind as she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
    Lit by the dim light of the hearth, two men were in a heated argument. Ulfrik and Einarr. Several other men restrained them as they lunged toward each other, snarling insults. Hallveig stood in the doorway of Selia’s bedchamber clutching the wailing babe, and Hrefna rushed up to the slave woman.
    “What happened?” she demanded, taking Geirr from her and examining him closely.
    The frightened thrall stammered, “I was half asleep after nursing, and someone crept into the room and climbed into bed with me. I thought it was Selia or you, come to check on Geirr. But then I felt a man’s hands on my body, and I panicked. He was drunk and I was afraid he would smother the babe, so I screamed for help.”
    Hallveig cast her eyes to the floor, obviously upset to have caused such a scene. Hrefna patted her on the shoulder as she attempted to quiet the babe.
    Einarr and Ulfrik were still shouting and struggling to get at each other. Einarr had a bloody nose but was so drunk he didn’t appear to feel it, and when he saw Selia out of the corner of his eye he stopped his slurred ranting to leer at her. His eyes wandered from her loose curls to her bare feet and back up again, the hunger on his face unmistakable.
    Selia clutched the blanket tighter around her, and Ulfrik’s eyes flashed with fury as he lunged again for Einarr. “Do you expect anyone to believe you were only after the thrall, you shameless bastard? I ought to run you through right now—”
    “Ulfrik!” Gunnar shouted, scowling into his cousin’s face. “Enough. No harm was done to your brother’s wife.” The emphasis on the word ‘brother’ was not lost on anyone. He continued in a lower voice. “By your reaction, one would think your own wife had been dishonored.”
    Ulfrik clenched his jaw with such force that his teeth ground together audibly. Enraged as he was, his sudden resemblance to Alrik was uncanny, and both Selia and Hrefna gaped at him. Shaking with the effort it took to contain himself, he spoke in a rasp. “If you do not remove this white-livered man from my sight, Gunnar, I swear I will kill him.”
    The crowd of men reacted visibly. To call a man white-livered was to call him a weakling and a coward. When he was teaching her Norse on the ship, Ulfrik had told Selia this was the reason the Finngalls dubbed the Christian son of God the ‘White Christ,’ as they considered a religion