‘All the more for me,’ she said, clutching it to her chest.
He frowned at the mug like it had personally offended him.
Greta made a point of taking another languid sip. He watched her, his throat working as he swallowed.
This time, she made sure to wipe her mouth. His eyes lowered, watching that, too.
‘I suppose you’ve come to check on the beasts,’ she said, feeling the sudden urge to look away from him. To give herself a moment to breathe. ‘The armour is well-fitted, as you can see. Minimal restrictions in movement. I was just about to run through some attack manouevres if you’d like to join me.’
‘With pleasure,’ he said, mood brightening.
Greta sipped her drink to hide her smile. She was well aware that the other soldiers found the king’s presence at their training sessions unnerving, but the truth was she liked Alarik’s company in the arena. And outside of it. She was glad of it now, even if he had chased poor Aren away.
They wandered over to where the ice bears were assembled, looking all the more fearsome in their plated armour and spiked silver helmets.
Alarik wandered up to Baldur and Nel to inspect the fit. ‘Impressive work,’ he remarked, as he circled them. ‘I’ll send Borvil down later after his nap. See that the armourers take special care with him.’
Greta laughed before she could help it.
He crooked a brow at her over his shoulder. ‘Do I amuse you, Iversen?’
More often than he probably meant to.
‘That bear is spoilt rotten. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re a soft touch.’
He offered a fleeting smile. ‘Depends on the creature.’
‘And what about people?’ she said, before she could help it.
He paused, canting his head. The silence swelled. She gulped her hot chocolate, desperately thinking of something else to say.
‘Only on rare occasions,’ he said, still looking at her.
Feeling flustered, Greta went to place her empty mug on a nearby wall. When she returned to the bears, she launched straight into their drills, ensuring they could still stretch and lunge with ease.
Alarik remained at her side throughout, offering his own commands. The ones they had been practising for weeks now. Greta was pleased to see the ice bears responding efficiently, easily submitting to the will of their true master.
‘They’ll make a fine regiment,’ Alarik remarked, once the bears had been thoroughly put through their paces. ‘Good job, Iversen.’
Greta summoned a smile, even as her stomach twisted. Sometimes, she could forget in the thrill of wrangling that the end goal was war.
It would always be war.
‘What is that?’ said Alarik, watching her more closely than she’d realized. ‘The shadow that’s just come over your face? Should I be more effusive with my praise? I admit compliments are not my strong suit.’
She shook her head, embarrassed at her own reaction. What kind of Gevran feared the drums of war? ‘I was just thinking about all that’s yet to come.’ She looked back at the ice bears. Those beautiful, majestic beasts all poised and ready to fight upon her command. Ready to die.
Voice quietening, Greta asked, ‘Will it be soon?’
He turned back to her. ‘You needn’t worry about the war, Iversen. When the time comes, we will ride into battle together.’ His voice took on a new intensity, his eyes blazing with the promise of victory. ‘You will not have to face the steel blades of Vask alone.’
Greta quailed. How could she tell him it was not herself she feared for, but his beasts? These soft-hearted creatures who had filled her heart with such gladness these past months, these animals she had grown to love as dearly as her own beloved Lupo back on Carrig.
These creatures who were the king’s own weapons.
Made to maim and kill.
Expected to die.
