“Too soft-hearted?” Gideon teases.
“Actually,” Boreas says dryly, “it’s you I’m worried about.”
My mouth twitches at the man’s bewildered expression, and I feel a sudden wave of fondness for my husband.
“Wren,” Boreas says, his hand brushing my lower back, “this is Gideon, one of the unit commanders.”
Judging by the respect in Boreas’ tone, he thinks highly of this man. “Nice to meet you.”
He ducks his head. “My lady.”
“Please, call me Wren.” I continue eating my stew. “So, how long have you known Boreas?”
Before he can answer, two others join our table. The first is Pallas. The captain spares me no attention, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or irritated. The second man is an ugly brute with a hideous, growth-like nose. He offers me a leering smile full of broken teeth.
I turn to Pallas. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”
“You’ve met?” the king asks.
“Once.” I peer down my nose at the captain. “He knows where I stand about… things.”
The brute growls, “If your wife is here, my lord, who’s going to warm your bed while you’re away?”
My hand remains steady as I spoon more stew into my mouth. “Who says I’m the one doing the warming?”
The Frost King stiffens. I clamp a hand onto his thigh under the table, a silent request that he keep his tongue in check. But when the muscle beneath my fingers flexes, I realize how hot his skin is through the fabric of his breeches, and I quickly remove my hand.
The ugly toad’s upper lip curls. He looks to his king, then to me. “The woman always does the warming. Take now for instance. Got three wenches waiting for me back home.”
I finish chewing a piece of meat. It’s been too long since I’ve put a man in his place. Why, I almost miss it.
Planting my elbows on the table, I lean forward, staring the man down. I’ve met his kind before. Women belong in the kitchen, and if not in the kitchen, then on their backs in the bedroom. “You know what they say about men with big mouths, right?”
The man’s gaze narrows like a viper’s. “What?”
Bringing the bowl of soup to my mouth, I make the most obnoxious slurp possible. I chew, then swallow, because it’s impolite to speak with your mouth full while doling out insults.
“Small prick,” I say succinctly.
The soldiers within earshot hoot and holler, slamming the tabletops with their open palms. Pallas shakes his head, mouth twitching. Even Boreas laughs. The only one not laughing is my victim.
Thankfully, the brute decides he’s had enough conversation and barges off in a huff, reprieving us of his foul company.
With dinner complete, the men trudge to their tents. Boreas and I return to ours.
Someone has built a fire in our absence. Orla, probably. I warm my hands against the flames as the king toes off his boots. There’s a little washing station near the rear, and our clothing has been unpacked and organized in a small dresser.
When the sound of shifting cloth reaches me, I freeze.
I have been here before.
Whirling, I take in the sight before me. “What are you doing?”
The Frost King pauses in removing his tunic. He’s already discarded his coat. “I should think that would be obvious,” he says as another button slips through the opening, baring more skin. “You’ve never seen a naked man before?”
Do I detect a taunt? “I’ve seen plenty,” I reply breezily. “You’ve seen one cock, you’ve seen them all.”
His lips thin, and time stretches into too long a silence. “I see.”
