Page 62 of Merciful Salvation

“I’d prefer to be asleep next to my wife.” His cousin stalked inside. “The rest of you come in and close the doors.”

With all the added light, Aaron could make out the hatred on Frieda’s face. What did he ever see in her? “Shall we hold the formal inquiry now?”

Tyr looked around. “You pick the most peculiar places to make love to women,” he commented, staring at Aaron. “But a man shouldn’t be falsely accused or wrongly judged for doing what comes naturally. Didn’t your own god command mankind to be fruitful, multiply, and replenish the earth?”

“Aye.” Aaron nodded. Although he didn’t see any humor in quoting the words of his former god. “Tonight has nothing to do with multiplying—not in the Biblical sense.”

Tyr snorted. “Frieda.”

“Milord?” She stepped forward.

“Two days ago, while you were taking a walk, I asked myspaewifeto examine your son.”

“Is he in good health?” she inquired.

“Perfect,” Tyr answered. “Only one thing confused her.”

Aaron’s gut groaned, upset by the blasted woman he knew asnothing more than a liar. She’d latch onto any man she could find.

“What is it?” Finally, she appeared uncertain.

“Tell me again how old your son is?” Tyr asked.

“Nearly five.”

Tyr looked at Kara. “Have you any knowledge about children?”

“Yes,” she answered, stepping from behind Aaron.

“Please explain about teething.”

“I’ve counted twenty teeth in a child’s mouth by the time they are three or four years old. And of course they start to lose them once they reach a certain age—five or six seasons, milord.” Kara said.

Tyr faced Frieda again. “It seems your child is younger than you think. Although he’s tall and heavy for a boy of his suspected age, thespaewifeswears he’s not a day over three and a half seasons.”

Frieda’s eyes widened. “Dare I ask why you have any reason to doubt me?”

“Birthrights are at stake. A man’s honor questioned,” Tyr replied.

Her gaze flitted around the barn, stopping on Kara. “He’s arrogant, excessively so.”

“Yet he’s honest,” Kara added.

“Believe nothing he says,” Frieda spit. “He’s as cunning as Loki.”

Tyr pinched Frieda’s chin—forcing her to look up. “You’re not looking as sly and satisfied as you were the first night you arrived here. Do you know how many lives you could have ruined with your lies?”

“The way you and Aaron destroyed mine?”

“Did I pry your legs apart?” Aaron jumped, wanting to grab more than the bitch’s chin.

Tyr raised his hand. “Wait cousin, give her every opportunity to explain.”

Reluctant to let her speak another word, Aaron fisted his hands at his sides.

“Cast from the lord’s chamber is one thing,” Frieda continued, “but when your cousin abandoned me after months of sharing my bed,I swore an oath.” She stopped.

“Finish,” Aaron demanded.