‘I never forgot about you,’ he protested. ‘You should have written to me.’
‘You should have written to us!’
‘So, this is my punishment?’ he said, hurt and anger mingling in his voice. ‘To have to see my peaceful, loving sister go towar? To watch you risk your lifeover and overfor causes you can’t even stomach. And worse, to survive by the skin of your teeth only to come home and play the king’s pet?’
Greta jerked, as though he had slapped her.
Rage ripped through Alarik. ‘Don’t you dare talk to her like that.’
Tor turned back to him. ‘Stay out of this.’
‘I’m not a child,’ Greta fumed. ‘I can make my own choices.’
‘Clearly, you can’t.’
Alarik picked up his sword. ‘You are entitled to your anger, Tor. But you can take it out on me.’
‘With pleasure,’ he said, turning to lunge at him.
‘Stop it! Both of you!’ Greta’s cries were lost to the clash of their swords. Alarik felt the strength of Tor’s fury in his first strike, the blade vibrating against his own. He shoved back, meeting him blow for blow as they circled each other, like beasts in an arena.
‘I don’t know what pisses me off more,’ said Tor, swinging underhand. ‘That you took my sister to war or into your bed.’
Alarik parried with three sharp strikes, pushing into the space between them. ‘Don’t tell me how to run my kingdom, Iversen.’
‘Have your kingdom,’ said Tor, tossing his sword aside and grabbing his collar. ‘Leave my sister out of it.’
‘Too late,’ snarled Alarik.
Tor punched him squarely in the face.
‘Tor!’ shrieked Greta. ‘Have you lost your mind?’
There was a sudden roaring in Alarik’s ears. He staggered backwards, blinking through the pain. Blood poured from his nose and striped his chin, but he stayed his blade, refusing to give in to the tide of his anger. He cast his sword away, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
‘That was your free shot,’ he hissed. ‘Next time, I’ll take your hand.’
‘Not before I take yours, Felsing.’ Tor was rolling up his sleeves, ready to charge the king and get himself thrown in the dungeons.If Alarik struck back, it would become an all-out brawl, and his best friend would pay for it in blood.
Greta would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself.
When Tor lunged for him, Alarik jumped out of his path.
‘That’s enough!’ Greta leaped into the space between them, brandishing a sword that was almost the same size as her. It was heavy and unwieldy in her hands, a rusted relic she must have grabbed from the wall of weapons. She spun on her heel, teetering under the weight of the blade as she clutched it with both hands, wildly swinging it back and forth. Just like he had taught her. ‘Stop hurting each other right now!’
‘Put that thing down, Greta!’ Tor reeled backwards, panic flashing in his eyes. ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’
The same panic gripped Alarik. He took a careful step towards her. ‘We’ll stop,’ he said, calmly. ‘We’re stopping. See?’
She spun on him, her chest heaving. ‘I can’tstandit, Alarik,’ she said, distress rippling across her face. ‘When you hurt each other, you hurtme.’
‘I understand,’ he said, taking another step, Tor’s glare burning into him. ‘Please give me the sword.’
She gripped it tighter. ‘Promise me you won’t hurt him.’
‘I promise,’ he said, at once.
She spun on her brother. ‘You have to promise, too.’
