Valmar jumped up. “Out!” he ordered. “Everybody out!”
The serving-maids and housecarls took one look at his face, stern and suddenly very like his father’s, and made for the door. Dag and Nole hesitated in surprise. “You too,” Valmar snapped. Nole began to ask something more, but Dag took him hastily by the arm and dragged him away. Valmar bolted the hall door after them.
He turned back to Karin, who was weeping now in good earnest. She had pushed away her half-finished plate and had her head on the trestle table, her face hidden by her russet hair.
“He’s dead, he’s dead!” she wailed as Valmar gathered her up in his arms. “I escaped to the faeys and left him to die!” She clung to him, sobbing, as he patted her back.
“Karin, dearest Karin,” he found himself murmuring. “Please stop crying. He would not want you to mourn. He loved you. We shall make a great story and a song about him tomorrow so that his name will always live.”
Crying harder than ever, she threw her arms tight around his neck. Valmar held her close and kissed her damp forehead very gently, then when she did not pull away he worked his lips down to hers.
She still made no effort to resist, though she was now sobbing Roric’s name over and over between kisses. Valmar crushed her to him. Roric is dead, he thought, trying not to feel joyous. My father wants Karin and me to marry. He thinks we already spent one night together. Why then not this one?
They were alone together with the door barred. He rose, lifting her from the bench, and carried her to the cupboard bed where she had always slept. He could feel all her muscles and all her womanly softness against him.
He laid her down and sat on the bed beside her, waiting for her tears to subside while his heart beat faster and faster. He kicked off his boots and made a deliberate effort to keep the hand on her shoulder gentle.
“I’m sorry, Valmar,” she gasped, wiping futilely at her wet cheeks. “But I can’t stop crying. I’m so weary and so miserable! I have tried to be strong for so long- He embraced death at the end, and I know it was because of me. And he died without my even saying I loved him!”
She buried her face in the pillow, shaking all over, and Valmar stretched out beside her so that their bodies were touching along their entire length. How could he have ever been distracted by the woman in the realms of voima? he wondered. She had never been a real woman, he told himself, only a boy’s fantasy come to life in a world very far from this, the castle he would one day inherit. He had never even known her name. He pulled Karin slowly closer.
If she realized that the arm around her shoulders was more than the arm of a comforting younger brother she still gave no sign. Valmar started trying to loosen her clothing, although it was hard with her back turned toward him. “Dearest Karin, my sweetest one,” he whispered, peeling off his own jacket, “my own dear love.” She only sobbed in answer.
Abruptly Valmar pulled away and stood up. He could not take her now, not here in the hall where she had long been mistress of Hadros’s household, ordering around the maids and housecarls, giving commands even to the warriors, and looking after the boys she thought of as her little brothers. She had kissed him a moment ago, but she had really been kissing Roric. He clenched and unclenched his fists, looking down at her. He loved her so much that he could not do anything to hurt her.
Dag and Nole-and for that matter everyone else in the castle-doubtless had ideas of their own what he and Karin were doing alone here. None of the men would understand why he did not take a woman when she lay before him on the bed, offering no objection, only tears that were not for him.
He shook his head, then bent to remove her shoes. He was his own man and had to make his own decisions, not do what he thought others expected of him. “Try to sleep, Karin,” he said gently, pulling the blanket over her. “Tomorrow you and I can start on a song for Roric.”
Her sobs slowly weakened, and after half an hour he heard her breathing grow regular. He sat glumly, not moving, staring into the fire while it burned down to coals.
It was after midnight and the hall was nearly pitch black when Valmar rose again to his feet. He could not retreat back here to safety, where everyone was happy he was the royal heir and would be delighted, as delighted as at a great story of warriors of old, if he told them how many men he had killed. And he could no longer seek solace in the love of women.
Karin slept on. Hadros and his warriors had taken most of the extra weapons when they pursued Roric and Karin, but in the corner chest Valmar was able, after a little quiet rummaging, to find an old sword which he belted on. Eirik had his singing sword, and he did not want to go to fight the outlaw king barehanded.
He felt his way to the door and unbarred it carefully, then stepped out into the courtyard. The rest of the castle was silent. It had been long since Hadros posted guards at night, and the small number of warriors he had left here would not have been enough for constant watches anyway. Valmar crossed silently to the gates and worked the great bolts back.
He had saved Karin and brought her home, but he could not stay here with her as her brother. Roric had traveled hundreds of miles to save him, and he could not now desert him if there was any chance his foster-brother was still alive. The fight with the dragon must be over by now, but if the Wanderers still survived he was still pledged to serve them.
No comfortable inheritance for him of a kingdom he had not won himself, and also no adventure for its own sake, or only in thoughtless imitation of old tales. All that was important was to follow the way of honor in his own heart, even if in the world’s eyes his honor was gone.
Now he hoped, hurrying through the dark woods, that he could return through the faeys’ burrows the way they had come.