Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 40: A New Type of Company

It took Astrid a long time before she started speaking again, and Elba could not blame her. She'd told the poor woman everything. About Regis, about Libro, and most of all, about Brand. She deserved the truth, after all.

The good, and the bad.

"He's alive," Astrid murmured, placing her head in her hands, pale eyes glistening wet as she stared down at the floor. "After everything that's happened to him, he's still alive."

"He is," Elba said.

Astrid started to tremble, quickly losing her composure as heavy tears plopped onto the carpet. "And I abandoned him," she murmured. "I abandoned my boy. My own son." She bit down on one knuckle to keep back a choking sob, curling into herself as if a sword had been driven into her guts.

Elba wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to reach out and tell her it would all be okay, that she had done everything a mother could to protect her child, but her stomach still felt a roiling mess after upchucking over the bannister, what with a child growing inside of her, so she wasn't quite in the mood to slip sugar in her lies today.

"You did," Elba said, heat creeping up her neck. "And I had to be there to pick up the pieces after you ran away."

Astrid gaped at her wordlessly, fueling her to keep going."

Do you know he was banished from Middengard? From his own home? The Vangen had to press into service as their own personal Magician because he had nowhere else to go. I had to break his door down once and force him into the sunlight after he locked himself in his room for six bloody months! The boy's a wreck, Astrid! Do you even understand what you did to him?"

She was shouting now, unable to keep back the coursing flood inside her. Hot, angry tears slithered down her cheeks, and she frustratingly wiped them away.

"Do you?"

Astrid had gone very quiet, head still in her hands, little muffled sniffs and sobs coming out of her every now and then. She'd stopped trembling, but was still sitting there all hunched over, a solemn stillness falling over her like the morning after a storm.

"Why, Astrid?" Elba rubbed at one temple, already feeling a headache coming on. "Why did you abandon Brand?"

"I've asked myself the same question for over a year now," Astrid said, her voice cold and calm. She sat up, eyes wet and red rimmed, and she stared at Elba with a knowing, guilty look. "I believe a part of me broke that night when you took me to my son. I remember sitting beside his comatose body, and I stroked his hair, and I told him how much I loved him, and how," she paused, swallowing past a heavy lump in her throat. "And how it was all my fault."

Sharp breath hitched in the back of her throat as she let out another shudder, trying to take back what little composure she had left. She forced up a watery smile and held a hand out to Elba.

"May I?"

Elba cocked an eyebrow up before she realized Astrid's intention and sat back with a watchful nod. The older woman placed a hand on her belly, little crow's feet dancing at the edges of her eyes as she felt the life within.

"You don't know what motherhood's like, but if the gods are good, and if your man is as ruthless as you say he is, I pray every day you get the chance to experience it. To some it can feel like a burden, or a painful responsibility, but to others it can feel like a calling, as if by the divines themselves."

Astrid wiped away a tear. "Did I ever tell you I originally wanted seven sons?"

"No," Elba said, wondering where the story was going. "I don't believe you ever did."