‘You know, I love you and your sister very much,’ she murmured, turning her gaze to the window, looking past the bounds of Grinstad into another time. ‘But you are both so mercurial, married to the rogue winds of battle and adventure in a way your brother was not. You and Anika are my very heart, but Ansel was my hope for the future. For family and company, and the laughter of grandchildren filling these cold, empty halls. I placed all my hopes in that boy, and when he died …’ She trailed off, a silent tear trickling down her cheek.
Alarik fisted his hands, rage and sadness thrashing inside him. It all felt so unfair, that he was here, and Ansel was not, that he had bowed so quickly under the weight of his legacy. If he couldn’t protect his kingdom from invasion, or his own family from pain, then what good was he as a king? As a man?
She turned from the window. ‘Now, there is hope again,’ she said, her lips flickering. ‘Hope for something beautiful, beyond battle and bloodshed. Beyond loss.’
Alarik laid his head against the window, his breath fogging the glass. For his mother, his marriage to Princess Elva was about more than an alliance. He could see it plainly now, her desire to reclaim the warmth that once lit these halls,the love and laughter that echoed here. For the first time in years, she was looking to the future, not the past.
But how could he tell her that the mere thought of that future filled him with dread? Not for what he might gain in the end, but for who he would have to give up to get there.
When he stepped back from the window, she was gone. He was alone in the ballroom, dreading the moment in five days’ time, when he would have to step inside it again. Not as king, but as a groom.
When Alarik returned to his bedchamber, Greta was no longer there. Like a fool, he went to his bed and checked under the pile of blankets to look for her. Luna watched him from her spot on her pillow, judgement glowing in her golden eyes.
You really messed this up, he imagined her saying.
‘I know,’ he muttered. ‘I’m messing everything up.’
‘Your wrangler left a while ago.’ He turned at the sound of his sister’s voice. Anika was standing in the doorway in a long white coat and matching fur hat, with her crimson hair styled in twin braids. Despite the toll of battle, there wasn’t a scratch on her. In fact, she looked revitalized, better now than when she had first arrived home last week. ‘Johan said she bolted like a deer.’
Alarik ground his teeth. ‘She’s supposed to be resting.’
‘She can rest in her own bed.’ Anika stepped into the room and shut the door. ‘You are betrothed to someone else.’
‘Elva doesn’t care,’ said Alarik, curtly. In fact, it was Elva who ran to meet them upon their return from battle two days ago,fetching the palace physician and an armful of extra blankets to help warm Greta up.
Anika tossed his words aside. ‘You can’t have them both.’
‘Get out of my room, Anika.’
‘No.’
He glared at her.
She glared right back.
‘Grow up, Alarik,’ she snapped. ‘We are at war. Don’t doom your kingdom over some foolish fling with your wrangler.’
‘You have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said, working to keep his anger at bay. ‘And I would caution you not to annoy me today. I’m feeling particularly vicious.’
‘Go eat a cello, then.’
Alarik opened his mouth to snap back, but at the defiant look in her eyes, the fight inside him sputtered out. He wasn’t angry at his sister. He was angry because she was telling him the truth. He slumped on to the bed, raking his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t know what to do, Anika.’
Her voice softened at his distress, the mattress creaking as she sat down beside him. ‘Yes, you do.’ She tapped his chest. ‘War before desire, brother. Kingdom before heart.’
His stomach twisted. ‘I don’t want to let her go.’
‘She’s already gone, Alarik,’ she said, gently.
I want to chase her.He almost leaped from the bed, caught in the primal rush of his need. In that moment he wasn’t a king or a son or a groom. He felt like a snow leopard, desperate to find his mate.
Anika must have sensed the shift in his energy because she leaped to her feet and made a wall of her body.
‘Leave her be,’ she warned.
He jerked his chin up. ‘Or what?’
‘Or I’ll send word to Tor Iversen. And then you really will be sorry.’
