Pit of Vipers (Sons of Kings Book 2) by Millie Thom

pushed herself up on one elbow to glower down at him. ‘You mean to tell me you’ve a young brother and half-sister living with the Danes – and your mother didn’t die in London but of some pestilence as a slave in the Danish lands? You deliberately lied to me?’
    Eadwulf closed his eyes. The true means of his mother’s death was too terrible to recount. A new lie had simply replaced the old.
    ‘And why are you telling me this now?’
    The last thing Eadwulf wanted was a blazing row, as generally happened when his wife was annoyed. ‘Why not now?’ he said, reaching to push a lock of auburn hair from her face. ‘You’re usually in a good mood after–’
    ‘Don’t you dare bring lovemaking into this,’ Leoflaed spat, jerking her head away and heaving herself into a sitting position. ‘Making love has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve kept such things from me for five whole years . . .’ She pulled the furs up to her neck in a gesture of outraged modesty. ‘Does the fact that you’ve eventually brought the subject up mean you intend to do something about it?’
    ‘I’m not sure what to do about it, yet,’ he replied, sitting up beside her in their bed. ‘I’ve searched for a way to tell you for a long time, but feared you’d react badly – just as you have done.’ He held up his hand to stay another harsh rejoinder. ‘No need to justify your feelings. I accept that I’m in the wrong here.’
    Leoflaed turned towards him, opening her mouth to reply, but closing it again. In the candlelight he could read the anxiety in her hazel eyes – and knew that her main concern would be that he might be going away without her again. He stared ahead, waiting for her to speak. Beyond their bedchamber, Wigstan’s hall was silent. Even the servants had retired to their beds. Aethelred had been asleep in his own chamber for hours, and rarely woke in the night.
    ‘I didn’t intend to cause distress by telling you this,’ he said after a prolonged silence. ‘Whether I have family or not doesn’t affect my love for you – though I know I should have told you long ago.’
    ‘But I don’t understand your purpose in telling me now ,’ Leoflaed whispered. ‘You’re not about to tell me you’re going away again – are you?’
    ‘I’ve no plans to go anywhere. I’ve barely been back from York two weeks.’
    ‘Let’s not dwell on the Dane’s death again,’ she said, taking his hand as he shuddered. ‘The mere mention of it always distresses you. You’ve dealt bravely with those horrors, for all our sakes, but such appalling images have a habit of playing on the mind when least expected’
    ‘You’re right, it’s over. But now I dread to hear what the reprisals will be. Ragnar’s family has many powerful friends.’
    ‘There may be no reprisals at all. It would take a whole army to stand against the Northumbrian forces.’
    ‘And Ragnar’s sons may well manage to raise one. Perhaps not this year or next – but I fear they will come.’
    Leoflaed sighed. ‘Well, we’ll think about that when – if – it happens. Now, about the brother and sister you seem to have forgotten to mention until today . . .’
    Briefly, Eadwulf explained about Jorund and Yrsa, and Ragnar’s daughter and her husband who cared for them. Leoflaed listened, her shrewd gaze fixed on him.
    ‘What you really mean is that those people actually own your brother and sister, isn’t it? They’re still slaves, and that’s what bothers you.’
    Eadwulf nodded, unable to deny the truth of her deduction. ‘But their master and mistress are good people,’ he tried to explain, without naming Freydis and Hastein, ‘who offered to take the children out of sympathy when our mother died. Jorund and Yrsa will be well treated, and not want for affection.’ He studied his intertwined fingers, silent awhile. ‘I dream of bringing them home one day, but how that will be possible I’ve yet no idea. But the hope won’t leave