“It is aggravating, that’s all.” I flicked dust off my trousers. “I hoped we might be amicable.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Because she does not want it!” I closed my eyes, drawing my pulse to a calm. “She told me she does not want to make this more than a duty. She does not want to know me.”
“That was the argument the other night?”
“Yes, and I am trying to honor her desire, but . . .” I let the words die. They were sharp and sour on my tongue.
“But you want it differently?”
I dropped the shaver and rubbed a thumb over a bloody spot on the bandage. “I don’t know. Gods, she’s awful. Wretched. I cannot get her out of my head. I think she’s cast a damn spell on me.”
Sander grinned. “I think that is how it feels at the beginning of the fall, you bastard.”
I did not dignify that with a response. Sander didn’t press, merely took up his book again. After a time, Von returned.
“Well, I think you properly annoyed Oldun.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Ah, Oldun.” Sander shook his head. “Heard chatter that she has a wager on being the first to bed you after the vows.”
Anger pooled tight in my gut. I was nothing but a conquest, and I hated how it had been acceptable for me all these turns. Strange how a vow, a new circumstance, left me realizing I never wanted that with Skadi.
If ever she wanted me for more, I never wanted her to feel like it did not matter, like she was merely a body.
Gods, what was the bleeding woman doing to me?
“What upset you?” Von’s mouth was set into a tight line. “I’ve never seen you draw mesmer like that.”
“She insulted Skadi.”
“Should’ve known.” Von took up a cloth and settled in to finish staining the edges of another wall of shelves. “Makes a bit more sense then.”
“Don’t start. Sander already tried.”
“Tried what? To tell you that you’re falling for your wife?”
Sander and Von laughed at their own stupidity.
“You’re both bleeding fools.”
I wasn’t certain how long we remained silent, surrounded by the scent of wood and dust, but by the time a voice called out from the lower corridors, my spine ached, and I would likely need a fresh bandage.
“Is that . . .” I abandoned my tools and hurried down the staircase toward our chambers. “Dorsan?”
The elven guard looked like a knight from a fae tale, his fist on my door. Boots polished like the gleam of a raven’s wing, a fur cloak over his shoulders, his tunic starched and stiff.
“Forgive me, Highness.” He dropped his hand and squared his shoulders to me. “I have been sent by the Lady Frigg to fetch you.”
“What’s wrong?”
Dorsan flinched, a crack in his marble flesh. “It involves the Princess Skadinia.”
“I figured, man. Where is she?”
The elven lowered his voice. “There is a disruption at one of your taverns. My Lady was introduced to alver wine, and I’m afraid it has not taken to her well.”
“Skadi had tavern brän?”
