Greta dropped her head. ‘Majesty,’ she muttered.
She could feel the heat of his gaze on the crown of her head, and when she raised it once more, it dropped to the scars on her cheek. He did not ask about them, and she was relieved. Until he opened his mouth again.
‘The way you spoke to me just now in the war room was unacceptable.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Greta, quietly. Though she regretted her actions, she could not bring herself to take back her words.‘I should have held my tongue.’
He snorted. ‘Yes, I can see you’re positively ragged with regret.’
She rearranged her face to look more contrite, chewing a little on her bottom lip. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt your wedding fitting.’
His eyes flashed. ‘Are you attempting a joke, Iversen?’
She shook her head. ‘Definitely not.’
‘That was not a wedding fitting.’
What it was, was a terrible waste of fine clothes. But this time, she kept her mouth shut. She knitted her hands, pinching at the soft space between her forefinger and thumb.Be good. Be polite. Be quiet.
But Greta was none of those things by nature, and in the king’s icy presence, she found she wished to rebel against them even harder. Fighting the instinct, she bit down on her tongue.
‘Are you frightened of me?’
She frowned again, thinking about it. ‘I don’t know.’
His voice darkened. ‘You should be.’
‘Then I am,’ she said, looking up at him. She would be whatever he needed her to be. He must have read the thought on her face because he drew back then, huffing a mirthless laugh.
‘You are not at all like your brother.’
Greta was not at all like anyone. And that was more the truth of it.
‘I’m … not very good with people,’ she admitted. She didn’tknowvery many people beyond her family and Mikkel. She liked it that way, had always preferred the company of animals. They were simpler creatures, easily understood and easily pleased.
‘I’m notpeople,’ said Alarik.‘I’m a king.’ A pause. ‘Theking.’ Another pause. ‘Yourking.’
Greta nodded. Yes, of course. Yes, she understood.Be good. Be quiet. Even if it rankles you.It was hard not to squirm under the penetrating light of that frosted glare, but harder still to tear her own gaze from it. Hard not to speak again and say, ‘I suppose I’m just … more of a beast person.’
‘Then think of me as a beast.’ She didn’t need to hear the growl in the king’s voice to know he meant it as a threat. She decided not to tell him she already thought of him that way. He went on. ‘Out of respect for my enduring friendship with your brother and the years of loyalty he has shown to the Crown, I will forgive your impertinence this morning and refrain from flinging you into the dungeons.’ He flashed his canines. ‘Just this once.’
Greta closed her eyes, a whimper of relief catching in her throat. She had not forfeited her position here, after all. She had not dishonoured her family and thrown their future to the wolves.
‘Thank you,’ she said, opening her eyes and finding herself again snared in his gaze. Only now, she couldn’t quite read it, or perhaps understand the curiosity there. The fire crackled in the silence, and she decided it was far too hot inside the little hut. She would give anything to be outside in the wind-whipped arena, sparring with beasts who did not unsettle her so easily.
Alarik looked to the window, his attention turning to the world beyond them. When he spoke again, his words were quick and low. ‘You will begin your duties at once. I expect you to attend the next war council. On time and in uniform.’
‘And in the orangery?’
He whipped his head towards her. ‘Is this funny to you?’
‘Not at all.’ Greta swallowed her smile. Bad joke. Bad timing. Big mouth. She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t know anything about war.’
‘You are a Gevran. Whether you like it or not, war is in your blood.’ Greta didn’t like it at all, but she could see no way around that now. ‘I expect you to train my beasts to heed my commands. You will attend my war councils and learn the art of war, just as your brother did.’ He took a step back, and Greta welcomed the cool whip of air that came between them. ‘War is coming to Gevra, and as my wrangler, you will have a part to play in it. That part begins today. Don’t let me down, Iversen.’
‘I won’t,’ she said, raising her chin to meet his challenge. Letting down the king meant letting down her family, and she would not damn them to an endless winter of starvation. Not when she had the means to save them.
He nodded in approval. ‘Captain Vine will show you around the arena. Today, you will meet the beasts. Tomorrow, you will begin training them.’
