Greta almost sagged with relief. ‘You read my mind.’ Despite her fur-lined leather gloves and warm frock coat, she was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers, and it had been some time since she had felt her toes at all. ‘I swear winters on Carrig are never as bad as this.’
After issuing a quick command to the bears to relax their defensive postures, she skipped over to Aren, gratefully taking one of the mugs. She cupped her hands around it, sighing as the steam warmed her nose. The chocolate was thick and fragrant, and heaped with so many melting marshmallows, it was streaked with white.
‘I swear you’ve given me three times more marshmallows today,’ she said,comparing their mugs.
‘Figured you could use the extra sugar,’ he said, with a wink. ‘It’s armour day after all. I know how difficult the fittings can make the beasts.’
Difficultwas an understatement. When the armourers arrived at sunrise, the beasts were already pacing, like they sensed something was afoot. Despite the sleek design and relative lightness of the plated armour, no wild thing liked being dressed inanything, even if it was for their own good.
‘You’re lucky the birds fly free,’ said Greta. ‘We just about got through the wolves. I swear Tollo tried to take the armourer’s hand off.’
‘And the snow leopards?’ said Aren, stifling a chuckle.
‘Remarkably well-behaved, in comparison. But we’ve only fitted half of them. And I haven’t done their drills yet. It’s going to be a long day.’
An hour before noon and it wasalreadya long day.
‘Then I’ll bring you as many of these as you need,’ he said, gently clinking his mug against hers.
Greta took her first languid sip. He did the same. His eyes were bright and burnished, drinking her in over the rim of his mug. She felt a curious heat gather in her cheeks, a sense that this moment might mean more to him than it did to her.
A stray black curl peeked out from under his hat. A part of her wanted to reach out and tuck it away. The part that said Aren could be good for her. The part that told her she should forget about the king and the traitorous flicker that ignited in her chest whenever he was near. And yet, despite the fact that Aren was handsome and thoughtful and good company, her heartbeat remained steady in her chest.
He laughed at her as she lowered her mug.
‘What?’ she said, feeling a flurry of self-consciousness.
‘You’ve got a marshmallow moustache.’ Before she could scrub the offending moustache off her face, he reached out, lightly smudging it away with his thumb. ‘There,’ he said, his eyes softening. ‘Better.’
Greta blushed, taking a small step backwards. He dropped his hand. ‘Thanks,’ she said, with an awkward huff. ‘The bears would never take me seriously again.’
‘I think they’re far more distracted by those terrifying-looking spiked helmets they’re wearing,’ he said, gesturing past her. ‘Why do you suppose the king insists on them?’
‘Because the king can do whatever he likes,’ said an all-too familiar voice.
Greta spun around, nearly spilling hot chocolate all over herself. Alarik was standing a few feet away with his arms folded across his chest. His bright eyes narrowed as he looked between them, and by the diamond hardness of his gaze, Greta got the impression that he had just witnessed her embarrassing moustache incident.
And he was not happy about it.
‘Unlike the king’s falconer, who should be working right now,’ he added, pointedly.
Aren paled. ‘I was just taking a break.’
‘And now it’s over,’ said Alarik. ‘If you’re done pawing at my wrangler, she has work to do, too. Work that does not involveyou.’
Greta winced. The king truly was in a foul mood today.
‘Yes, Your Majesty. Of course. I’ll just … I’ll go now.’ Dipping his chin, Aren threw an apologetic glance at Greta before absconding from the arena with the swiftness of a hawk.
Greta sipped her drink as she watched him go. ‘Was that really necessary?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s terrified of you.’
‘Good.’ Alarik stuck his hand out expectantly. ‘Let me have a taste of that.’
She handed him her mug, surprised as he took a sip of his own. Grimacing, he handed it back to her. ‘Ugh. Way too sweet.’
