‘Not the kiss,’ he said. ‘Not even a little bit.’
‘All right.’ She huffed a mirthless laugh, then hiccuped. She pressed her lips together, but her body jolted, betraying the next one.
Her eyes rounded in surprise.
Alarik frowned, taking a measured step closer. Moving into the delicious heat of her body, and the heady scent of her hair, her skin. Jasmine and … He sniffed.
Frostfizz?
‘Greta Iversen,’ he said, arching a brow. ‘Are youdrunk?’
‘No!’ She shook her head violently. ‘No.’ Another hiccup wracked her slight frame. ‘Maybe.’ She groaned into her hands, then peeked at him through her fingers. ‘Only a little.’
Alarik laughed. So, she hadn’t been crying over him. She had been drinking with her brother and Wren, passing the afternoon with a bottle of frostfizz. The realization loosened the knot in his chest. ‘Well, that explains Lief’s tantrum earlier. He went blue in the face, swearing someone was stealing from the crate of wedding frostfizz.’
Greta froze.
Alarik cursed himself.
There it was, the ice bear in the room, the unsaid thing they could no longer avoid. His wedding to Princess Elva was hurtling towards them like a mountain sled, and Alarik could do nothing to stop it. He searched for something to say, anything to soften the unintentional blow, but words deserted him.
It was Greta who spoke, dropping her hands from her face and taking a steadying breath. ‘You’re getting married the day after tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ he said,quietly.
She nodded, not quite looking at him. ‘Of course.’
Thatof courseburned through Alarik’s chest. ‘I have to.’
‘I know.’
‘If there was any other way—’
‘Please don’t,’ she said, finally raising her gaze. Her eyes were so blue, like the sky after a blizzard. ‘Don’t explain. I understand.’
Another twist of his stomach. He hated the strange finality of this moment, how it felt like an ending he wasn’t ready for.
She curled her arms around herself. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll be leaving in a few days.’
A terrible coldness trickled through him. ‘What?’
‘Tor and Wren offered me a place at Eana,’ she said, with unnerving coolness, as though she was simply giving him today’s training report. ‘I’ll be going back with them after your wedding.’
Panic gripped Alarik by the throat, the words springing from him in a rush. ‘You can’t leave. We’re at war.’
‘Your beasts are trained. They will answer to you.’
‘No.’
Her brows lifted. ‘No?’
‘You’re staying here, Iversen.’ His tone was clipped. That of a king, commanding his soldier. Not a man begging his lover not to desert him. ‘I don’t release you.’
She pushed off the desk. He could practically see the beast in her rising to the surface, ready to tear into him. ‘You don’t have to,Your Majesty,’ she said, through her teeth. ‘I releasemyselffrom this place. I release myself from this hell.’
‘Hell?’ he reeled. ‘Since when has this been hell for you?’
‘Since you kissed me back!’ she snapped. ‘Since you made me feel like I meant something to you!’
