More dishes were placed on the table until the linen that covered it was no longer visible.
Did they expect them to eat everything?
It was a lot for two people and he hated waste. Too many days of starvation had left him with a deeper appreciation of plenty and going forward he would insist on proper management of their supplies. He would have to ensure the servants were using leftovers wisely and providing for those less fortunate than those allowed a seat within the hall.
Although…he probablycouldmanage most of it, after the events of the past few days. His mouth watered at the sweet and salty smell of the roasted meat. He hadn’t eaten properly in months. Had he lost weight? Was that why his rump hurt so much on this throne?
‘It is hard to be pleased, considering my position,’ Skadi replied tartly, followed by a sly and mockingly innocent question, ‘Does the seat of power disappoint you, King Agnar?’
He would have smiled, if he wasn’t so uncomfortable. It felt as if he were sitting on a bag of broken blades. The throne’s seat hadn’t looked that rough, cold possibly, because it was stone, but the seat had looked reasonably flat.
Until, of course, he’d sat down…
Still, there had been many times over the years when he’d almost doubted ever achieving his goal of returning to Thrudheim as its king. An uncomfortable chair seemed a small price to pay for attaining it.
‘Did all of your ancestors have rumps of steel?’ he asked mildly, not bothered by her teasing. It was clear she did not welcome his arrival. But the deed was done and in time she would realise it was for the best.
Skadi turned a little in her double-cushioned seat to see him better. It was awkward to speak to one another in such fixed chairs and it seemed as if Skadi would find fault with everything he said tonight, because she declared, ‘These thrones were carved seven generations ago from the same mountain cliffs that shield us today. They were a gift from the first King of Thrudheim to his bride, Queen Estrid.’
‘He didn’t like her much, then,’ grumbled Agnar with another shift of his buttocks.
The amusement seemed to die in her eyes and she answered sombrely, ‘I suppose not.’ Lifting the glass jug, she poured wine into two equally ornate glass chalices, the blue matching perfectly with the Thrudheim colours. The banners on the battlements had all been replaced with his own, but the tablecloths, tapestries and some of the hall banners remained in the blue-and-white stripe of her family.
‘What do you think of my banners in your hall?’ he asked. For some reason he wanted to antagonise her enough to bite back at him again. He preferred her spitefulness and amusement to the sad expression that had graced her face a moment ago.
Had Heimdall not been kind to her in their marriage, or did she simply miss him? Both thoughts were alarming in different ways. He’d hated the man, but he’d thought he was at least kind to Skadi. He’d spent a long time wooing her by all accounts.
Why he should care about her sadness was beyond him.Perhaps his vengeance wanted her to suffer more?
He had to admit that he’d expected more regret from her once her anger had settled. At least an apology for what she had done all those years ago. But it appeared she had no regrets for the great suffering she had caused. Which only infuriated him further.
Unconsciously, his hand shifted to the small throwing axe he always kept at his side—the touch of the old blade often comforted him when he was frustrated. It reminded him of his purpose and goals. Unfortunately, his goals and purposewere exactly what was infuriating him right now!
‘They look…’ She paused, sipping her wine with apparent boredom as she examined the black wolf-headed banners on a blood-red field hanging from every beam in her hall. Even Agnar had to admit the number of them was a little excessive. Finally, Skadi answered him with a disappointed sigh,‘Ugly.’
At his burst of laughter, she raised a single pale brow in question.
Had she thought to offend him?Probably.
But even he could see the colours clashed badly with the serene blue, white and silver of the rest of Thrudheim’s decorations.
Did she hope to intimidate him?He chuckled at the thought and her eyes narrowed further. She looked strange with the dark kohl painted thickly around her eyes—sharp and cruel. Tonight, he suspected she was testing him again, with her wit rather than her sword.
He was willing to rise to her challenge.
She had grown into a formidable queen. The woman in front of him today had worn her crown for so long that it was no longer a costume, but a second skin, deeply ingrained in her every word and action. He doubted she would, or evencould, admit that she’d been wrong…that she’d made a terrible mistake.
When he’d last seen her, she’d been naive and frightened—easily led by the men in her life, tentatively playing the role of Queen, a young maiden’s desires clouding her judgement. Things could have been so different for both of them, if only he’d been a little older.
What had he expected from her? Part of him had imagined the same beautiful, frightened girl to welcome his vengeance. As a youth he had fantasised about freeing her from Heimdall and Sven’s imprisonment, that she would run to him with tears of repentance and fall on her knees, begging him for forgiveness.
A fanciful notion!
The formidable woman beside him regretted nothing, not even her mistakes. He’d realised it straight away when she’d fiercely defended her child and crown with sword and shield—she would not bend until she was broken.
Skadi was, and had always been, a volatile creature…he supposed that was why he was so obsessed with her. The flaming jewel he could never possess.
Belatedly, he realised she’d been waiting for his answer as she placed his wine closer to her silver trencher with a thud. He picked up the glass absently, pleased by the surprising weight of it, and sipped from it slowly. Partly to rile his bride, who was obviously waiting for an answer, and partly because he’d never drunk from a glass before and was half-afraid it might break if it knocked against his teeth.