The dining room table could surely seat twenty comfortably, and there was certainly enough food on the table to feed so many. Or so I thought, until my Blood descended on the food with a vengeance.
I huffed out a soft laugh of amusement. With dark slate floors, the long, sleek table of iron and beautiful wood, and black walls, the room could have looked like a cavern or dungeon. The bottom half of the walls were paneled in dark wood, and the top was textured in a lush, swirled wallpaper that gleamed beneath the tray of lights that ran along the back wall of the room. Over the table, two black metal chandeliers provided more light that bounced off the glittering chips of crystals.
It was a very queenly, formal room. Which made my Bloods’ clothing all the more amusing. Dörr, Myrk, and Svar had opted to go back to the shorts they’d worn at first, though instead of Eivind’s castoffs, Clara had provided several brand-new shorts in a variety of lengths. Dörr wore longer shorts to his knees, but Myrk had gone for shorts that barely covered his ass, made even more hilarious by his glowers and grumbles.
Lokken had finally had the chance to get out of his suit he’d been wearing since he’d heard my call from a conference in Minneapolis. The jeans Clara had bought for my other Blood—which had been much too tight for their size—fit his muscled thighs like a deliciously well-tailored glove. A simple white T-shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders as if barely able to contain his upper body.
Not to be outdone by Myrk’s shorts, my newest Blood wore nothing but an even skimpier white pair of shorts that had made Clara’s eyes sparkle with mirth, though I didn’t know why.
Unlike my Blood, I wasn’t massively hungry for human food, though I dutifully nibbled on a plate of greens and roasted vegetables, leaving the haunches of meat for them. I’d never imagined they’d be able to eat all the various dishes, but in a matter of an hour, only a few bones and scraps remained.
Two humans in black pants and long-sleeved buttoned shirts quietly came in to clear away all the dishes, supervised by the man Clara introduced as Pàtair. I wasn’t good at estimating human ages, but he looked roughly middle aged with gray at his temples mixing in with his curly red hair. He wore a patterned piece of cloth around his hips like a skirt and the same long-sleeved black shirt as the other staff.
He stepped closer to Clara first, bowing over her hand. “Ms. Helsdóttir, thank you for the opportunity to serve Her Majesty.”
Expectantly, he turned to me, as Clara introduced us. “Your Majesty, this is Pàtair Dagus. He comes to us from House Morrigan. Pàtair, may I introduce our queen, Helayna Ironheart.”
He didn’t take my hand, instead dropping to one knee before me and bowing his head. “Goddess below, it’s an honor to serve, Your Majesty. I hope the house and food has met your expectations.”
“Everything is splendid,” I assured him. “Thank you for the warm welcome.”
“It’s my pleasure, Your Majesty, truly it is. If you have any requests, from decor to dessert, please let me know. We have a marvelous staff dedicated to making you comfortable in your new home.”
I glanced at Clara. “Is it safe? To have so many humans inside the nest, I mean.”
“Most of the staff have worked for House Ironheart for generations. Their families were dedicated to Hel’s queens hundreds of years ago, and so they know the ins and outs of Aima life. Some, like Pàtair, have served at large courts and have contacts throughout the world. When Queen Helle abandoned the nest in Reykjavík, she left many human servants behind without a queen to serve. They were eager to come to you, Your Majesty.”
“Some queens have them swear on her blood,” Lokken offered. “That way even the human servants carry a piece of her magic.”
My eyes flared. “Really? Humans would do that?”
“I would indeed,” Pàtair whispered hoarsely, lifting his shining eyes to mine. “If you were to ask, when the time is ready, of course, Your Majesty.”
I nodded slowly, my mind whirling. There was so much about running a court that I didn’t know. Clara had asked if Detective Harris was formerly aligned with Ironheart, and I hadn’t understood what she meant. Would the human cop consider taking some of mine or Karmen’s blood? What did that gain us, other than a human having my blood—and therefore, Hel’s power—in his body?
Gunnarr leaned back in his chair, patting his apparently not-completely-stuffed stomach. “Did someone say dessert?”
Pàtair gave him a hard stare that surprised me. “Now why should I serve dessert to an idjit who dares to wear tighty-whities to his queen’s dinner table?”
Lokken snickered, but my dark alfar Blood looked as bewildered as I felt. “I’m not offended. My other Blood wore shorts as well. As long as everyone’s comfortable, I couldn’t care less what they’re wearing.”
“But Your Majesty!” Pàtair sighed, shaking his head. “Really? He couldn’t be arsed to put a pair of pants on over his underwear?”
Unbothered by the man’s criticism, Gunnarr winked at me. “I coulda worn my birthday suit.”
“No, absolutely not,” Clara said firmly, though her eyes sparkled and her cheeks pinkened. “We’ll do some very necessary shopping as soon as our queen has rested from the journey.”
“With this lot—” Pàtair gave Gunnarr another hard look. “Perhaps it’d be best to have clothing delivered, rather than making the drive to Reykjavík.”
“Unless you want to see your mother’s old nest?” Clara asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet. I’d much rather get the blood circle laid and everything in order here before I go to her old home.”
“Of course. I already tried ordering clothing for your Blood, but perhaps it’d be best to bring a team of tailors to us this time.”
“If possible, I’d like to have my things forwarded from my former House,” Lokken said.
Nodding, Clara made a note on her phone. “I’ll call them first thing in the morning.”
