Oath Breaker (Sons of Odin Book 3) by Erin S. Riley Page B

Ulfrik, and he handed them both pieces of whalebone. “Now, you have to go slowly,” Selia heard him say. “Only take off small slivers. Too much and you’ll ruin the piece.”
    She turned a bit so she could watch them. He demonstrated proper form, the boys staring intently. Selia’s throat constricted as she gazed at her children, so starved for male approval. Other than fighting skills, Alrik hadn’t taught them much. He’d revealed little patience for the boys’ lively behavior, and would shout at them and cuff their ears if they got too loud in their play. Geirr and Faolan learned early in their lives it was easier to avoid their father than to try to engage with him.
    Selia’s breath caught in her throat as Faolan smiled up at Ulfrik, his little face so eager. She turned away, unable to bear the guilt that welled inside her.
    She’d waited too long to leave; that was achingly clear now.
    Eithne studied her with a worried expression, finally reaching out to cup her face in a way she’d done when Selia was small. “What’s the matter, my girl?” she whispered.
    Selia fought the urge to nestle into the woman’s ample bosom as she’d done as a child. She met Eithne’s gaze, then looked away, shaking her head.
    After supper, Ulfrik set up the tafl board at the table, carefully putting the freshly carved pieces on the squares. “Come, Selia,” he said as he motioned to the board. “Help me teach your boys how to play tafl.”
    Geirr scoffed. “You’re making that up. She doesn’t know how to play.”
    Ulfrik turned to him. “Of course she does. She’s one of the best players I’ve ever faced.”
    The boys looked unconvinced. Ulfrik regarded Selia for a long moment. “Play with me. Show them.”
    Shifting from one foot to the other, she relented and sat down across from Ulfrik. “I haven’t played in so long I don’t think I remember the rules,” she hedged.
    Ulfrik raised an eyebrow at her as he moved his first piece “Excuses,” he rebuked.
    Selia chewed her lip as she stared down at the board, choosing a piece to move. Everyone gathered around to watch, even Ainnileas and Ingrid. The game began slowly, move by move, but the pace intensified as Selia’s confidence returned.
    She was a good tafl player. And she enjoyed playing very much. Why had she convinced herself otherwise? As Selia executed her strategy, her sluggish mind came to life. Ulfrik moved his piece and she laughed out loud, pleased he had fallen for her trap. She moved her piece in for the win.
    His eyes looked rather sad as he met her gaze over the board. As she took in his expression, Selia was certain he’d let her win. “It’s good to hear you laugh, Selia. I’ve missed it.”
    Selia’s smile faded. “I’ve laughed.”
    “No you haven’t,” Geirr said. “Not since we left . . .” he trailed off, clearly not wanted to mention Alrik. “Norway,” he finished, red-faced.
    “It’s been longer than that,” Faolan added.
    Selia pushed away from the table, looking at the faces of her children. They were right. It had been a very long time since she had laughed. Since she had enjoyed herself at all, for that matter.
    How long had it been since she’d sung? Years ago, when the boys were small, she would sing them to sleep at night. And when they’d been ill. But she hadn’t sung to Faolan when he lay insensate from the hand of his father. Selia hadn’t even thought of it.
    A spark of anger rose inside her, sputtering, before roaring to life. Alrik had brought them all to this. He had taken so much from her and the boys, leaving them deeply scarred. But it was time to end the misery. He’d held them captive for long enough.
    Her children deserved more than a shell of a mother. And she herself deserved more than the melancholic existence she’d allowed herself to fall into.
    Selia let out a harsh breath, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She would live her life again. She just needed to