“You like him then?” He skipped back to me and gave the finished horn a gentle tap, causing it to resonate with a sound that would usually only be heard from glass. He was letting me know he wasn’t asking about Oli, very clearly steering the conversationawayfrom Oli.
“I have always liked Ravnur.”
“Yes, yes, but do youlike, like him?
So juvenile, but that was our god of mischief. Sentimental but always in a roundabout way to avoid letting his guard down. I suppose I had been the same in some ways lately. I stroked the smooth surface of the horn. “I think so.”
“And that doesn’t… scare the ever-loving shit out of you like bad digestion?”
I laughed. No one quite spun a phrase like Loki either. “It does. But I believe the fear, the risk, might be worth it.”
“Even knowing you could lose it all again?”
I looked up at that, looked into Loki’s pale blue eyes—well, eye, since the shadowed half of his face remained veiled by flowing hair. There was no guile to him in this moment, which I hadn’t thought possible of the crafty imp. “I think that is the most important reason to risk it. Because I might lose, yes. But I might… win.”
The strangest flutter filled my chest. Nerves. Excitement. And dare I say… hope.
I might win. I might get to have what I had so longed for and never truly known.
“Such the romantic.” Loki shoved my shoulder, teetering me on the bench. He hovered near to me afterward, as if unspoken words remained.
“Was there something else you wanted to say to me, Loki?”
That strange guilelessness returned, but then he said, “Nah.”
“Trolls take you, you venomous, vile wretch!”
My attention stole to the window, propped open slightly to let in air and the ambient noises of my people that usually soothed me. But whatever argument had erupted not far outside my door was clearly full of vitriol.
I returned to Loki—but not even a strand of fiery red hair remained where he had recently been standing. Typical. If he did have more to say to me, he’d be back.
Tucking the horn into my belt satchel, I hurried to exit the cottage and see to the commotion. A king’s duties were never done.
Chapter 4
RAVNUR
Istillhadn’theardfrom Freyr. I’d barely seen him, other than in passing while he was headed off to handle one crisis or another as lord of the realm. But as his most trusted hirdman, I knew there couldn’t be too much more that should steal his time today. He had promised he would seek me out once he was ready for another excursion. Another courtship stroll.
During which he expected me to regale him with my favorite story.
I knew the one I would tell, and I had told variations of it often, but I’d still found myself rehearsing it in my head all day. How should it be done? Grander than usual? Softer perhaps, moreintimate, like whispered secrets between confidantes? Should I stretch the tale out or keep it concise?
The waiting and wondering was what had my thoughts twisted and my insides equally tied up in knots. With all my own chores done for the day, I was now listlessly strolling alone through the square, trying to decide from which food cart I might purchase—while secretly hoping Freyr would suddenly appear beside me to help make the decision for me.
I wasn’t in the mood to cook and eat alone, so I knew I would choose something from a cart. There were some near the edge of the square, nearer to my home—which was also nearer to Freyr’s. With the sun setting and the smells of evening meal options wafting all around me, I found my feet naturally gravitating toward our neighbored dwellings, despite having come from there when I started out.
I pressed a hand to my chest, to where the pendant intended for Freyr was an ever-present reminder of all I longed for against my skin.
Perhaps I was being too impatient.
Or perhaps… Freyr had changed his mind about us.
“I lent you my cart, and you returned it damaged!”
“It was an accident! I offered to replace it!”
“With your shoddy craftsmanship? Don’t make me laugh!”
