‘That was purely for public consumption?’ Her heart thudded. She’d allowed those old dreams of hers to get the better of her common sense. She should have expected it, and she hated that she’d wanted to believe that he might be attracted to her in some way.
‘I dislike providing public sport. I presume you are not overly fond of it either, if your looks of sheer terror are anything to go by.’
Svanna sat up and put a hand to her head, trying to collect her thoughts. ‘The whole experience is new to me.’
He walked over to where a jug and two goblets stood on a table. ‘Sigmund thoughtfully provided us with some mead. Do you require any?’
She nodded.
He poured the golden mead with a steady hand before holding a goblet out to her. ‘Possibly some of his finest, but guessing is beyond my powers.’
‘You were shamming,’ she said, shaking her head at her gullibility. She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. ‘You utter wretch. You could have warned me.’
‘Careful of the mead.’ He easily sidestepped the pillow. ‘If you’d known, would it have changed the result?’
‘Yes…’ She tucked her head into her neck. ‘Probably not, but the principle of the thing remains.’
‘How good are you at playacting?’
Svanna crossed her arms. ‘I did it for over a decade without discovery.’
He set the mead down. ‘True enough. I hadn’t considered the problem in that light.’
‘How good do you think you are?’
‘Managed to fool you, did I?’ A pleased smile split his face. ‘Good to know that I can. The tossed pillow shows the truth in my statement.’
‘I…’ she started and was tempted to give a non-committal answer but then decided to admit the truth. ‘I was utterly fooled. And I was deeply worried for a few heartbeats.’
He tilted his head to one side. His face sobered. ‘Worried, why?’
Svanna hugged her waist tighter. The feeling of being out of her depth swamped her. Even though, in her head, she’d had many conversations with him—or, to be more accurate, her idea of him—she didn’t really know him or how he’d react. All she knew about men was from her time in Agthir.
‘Drunken men sometimes ignore their promises. Reasons exist why I kept my dog close and avoid feasts.’
The desire to explain what had happened to her on the morning he’d disappeared rose within her, but she forced it back down her throat. It was unimportant. She had survived and as Helga, her old nurse, had pointed out, she bore a large part of the blame for wandering around without an escort. For many years she’d thought this assessment was correct, but now she had to wonder why Turgeis felt entitled to behave the way he did, particularly against a member of the King’s family. She had not really done anything wrong. No, it was better to leave it, she decided. It was in her past and behind her. Unalterable, like his wife’s death.
‘The feasts could be raucous affairs, particularly when the King or my foster-mother was absent. I rapidly learned how to ensure I kept my honour.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Not to drink yourself stupid when the company is unfamiliar is a lesson my cousin taught me early on. It suited my purpose to allow others to consider I remain ignorant of such a lesson.’
‘Why did you decide to do that?’
‘Because I don’t require an audience tonight, or any night.’ He shrugged and returned the mead to the jug. ‘I assumed you didn’t either.’
‘That goes without saying.’ She slid off the bed. The rushes were cool against her bare feet. ‘Some things are best kept private.’
‘It is good to know you are level-headed.’ He ran a hand through his hair, making the curls wilder than ever.
‘Did you think I wasn’t?’
‘Sometimes you use a sing-song voice like you are trying to be a very little girl.’
‘When I get nervous, my voice goes too high.’ She swallowed hard, knowing that she didn’t want it to be a problem between them. ‘A habit I dislike immensely, but one I don’t seem able to alter.’
‘And the laughter?’
‘Sometimes it works, particularly when one understands the fate one has avoided.’
