“No, thank you. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
He nodded. “I’ll unlock the suite personally to ensure it’s ready whenever you care to examine it. When you retire for the evening, I’ll show you where the rooms are.”
“Perfect.”
Glancing at my plate—which I’d barely touched—he wrung his hands. “I hope you find this evening’s dining selection satisfactory. I told that fool we had dinner well in hand without his so-called expertise. I’ll be ever so devastated if we must admit defeat and hand the kitchen over to him entirely.”
“I heard that,” Pàtair retorted, poking his head into the room. “You’d be a foolnotto use my expertise when I’ve had the pleasure of feeding our queen several times already.”
I glanced over at Clara to gauge whether this was a serious disagreement, and she winked at me before adding, “You’re both fools and deserve each other.”
More at ease, I picked up my spoon. “My apologies to the kitchen, Franz. I’m afraid I… snacked… on the ride over from Vík. My appetite isn’t quite what it usually is, but everything is lovely. I’ll be sure to sample a little of everything.”
“Can’t fucking wait,” Myrk muttered, drawing an elbow from Lokken.
Heimdallr laughed, his golden eyes glowing like warm burnished coins. “I’m looking forward to the next course, but of course we must save room for dessert.”
“At once.” Franz bowed and rushed over to where Pàtair hovered. They whispered low but furiously and then disappeared into the kitchen.
I sipped some of the soup, savoring the rich broth and tender root vegetables.
“It’s called kjötsúpa,” Clara said. “We thought you might like to try some traditional Icelandic and Scandinavian dishes while we’re here.”
“It’s delicious.”
Franz brought in the next course and personally set my plate before me with a slender plank of tender white meat and creamy yellow sauce. “Fresh grilled langoustine with fermented honey and pickled plums. Enjoy, Your Majesty.”
The delicate white fish was flaky and sweet with a hint of charred taste making each bite exquisite. The next course was braised lamb, so tender and succulent the meat simply fell off the bones. Then fresh, hot tea with a round, dense brown bread served warm with whipped butter and honey.
“Rúgbrauð,” Franz said. “Baked as traditionally as possible in the ground. Sometimes called thunder or hot-spring bread.”
The scent of BlóÐberg tea brought tears to my eyes. Franz began to wring his hands again, so I quickly reassured him. “These are happy tears. It smells like home to me. Thank you so much, Franz. Everything has been lovely.”
“There’s still dessert if you’d like.” Franz glanced down at Gunnarr. “I hear your Blood particularly enjoy chocolate cake, and we make an incredible dessert to be sure.”
“This delicious bread is plenty for me.” I couldn’t resist meeting Heimdallr’s gaze again, checking to see if his eyes were still as warm as they were before. No. They were hotter andbrighter like solar flares. “Though I’m sure my Blood would love dessert.”
He licked his lips. “I will indeed.”
Franz looked extremely confused as I took a long drink of the tea and then set my napkin aside. As I started to stand, Heimdallr leaped to his feet and moved around the table. Dörr immediately stood with me, and I tucked my arm into his. “I’d like to retire for the evening, Franz. Though please, everyone, enjoy your dessert. Dörr will give you your orders as usual. Good night, Clara.”
She might be human but from the sparkle in her eyes and the pink in her cheeks, she knew exactly what kind of dessert was on my mind. “Good night, Your Majesty.”
27
HELAYNA
Chatting about the architecture and furnishings, Franz led us up a curving staircase to the second level of the house. He paused before tall windows overlooking the front garden and circular driveway where we’d arrived. Formal-looking chairs and sofas were arranged around the open space, mostly wood with a few cushions and pillows in brocade and velvet.
“This is what the staff calls the waiting area. When Queen Hrefna held court, her visitors waited here before heading up to her private office.”
He indicated another set of stairs opposite the windows leading to the center tower I’d noticed from outside. Stepping over to our right, he pulled a ring of keys from beneath his coat and unlocked the door. “The right wing contains your mother’s suite, along with a few guest rooms.”
“You keep everything locked?”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug that almost looked shy. “It’s a habit I picked up from my mother, who ran this house most of her life before her passing nearly forty years ago. She was born here and grew up under her formidable mother’s tutelage. From all accounts, Grandmother Wilhelmine could have organizedthe world’s greatest army, but thankfully she was satisfied with running the house for Queen Hrefna. At the height of Her Majesty’s rule, a hundred servants would have lived under this roof. Now, we’ve been lucky to have ten people living on site.”
“Did you know or meet Queen Hrefna?”
