She blinked, turning to Lord Rurik. This man was dangerous—he saw too much. Already, he knew far too many of her secrets. And in a world where safety meant staying hidden, she could not allow him to see any more of her. Saga’s protective thorns slid into place. “Have I satisfied your requirements yet, my lord?”
He watched her carefully, but she kept her expression stony.
“If you wish to see more, you might ask Princess Yrsa. She’s spent many years learning her history and probably knows it better than I.”
“I did not want Printsessa Yrsa to show me,” he said slowly.
She eyed him warily. “Why not?”
“I wanted to know little pet of Ivar.”
Flames of anger licked up her spine. “I’m no one’s pet.”
Rurik’s lips twitched. “What is it you say…hostage? How you prefer to call this?”
Saga’s heart beat loudly, pushing fire through her veins. “Is that what they tell you in Zagadka? That I’m a hostage?”
“Do you truly wish to know?”
Her hands balled into fists. “Yes.”
Rurik’s face grew serious, and he was silent for a moment before replying. “Survivor, they call you. Yes, most think you hostage.”
“I don’t want your pity.” She could hear it in his voice, and it made her want to scream.
Rurik held his palms up defensively, but it only made her blood boil.
Saga took a menacing step closer. “Do Ilooklike a hostage? I am free to do what I want. They treat me well.”
The man had the audacity to chuckle—chuckle! Saga’s muscles trembled. She tried to let it go, to no avail. “What, exactly, is so amusing to you?”
His smirk made her want to take the priceless tapestry off the wall andbash it over his head. “You sound of perfect trained pet. They must give you excellent treats.”
“You areinsufferable!”
He looked utterly delighted. “Here you are.” Rurik’s green eyes swept her face. “I am pleased to see thetrueLady Saga. Like tapestry, in you there is the fire.”
“You’ve a knack for bringing it out,” she seethed, searching for her self-control. But it seemed with a few choice words, the man had unraveled all her restraint.
“I havemanytalents, Saga,” Rurik drawled, his emerald-green eyes alight. “Why do you hide yourself?”
“Because I don’t have a death wish!”
“Better I will die standing than live in collar.”
Saga reared back as if slapped. And in a single sentence, Rurik had doused the flames of her anger. Now she was naught but ash, certain to blow away in a gust of wind.
Because he was right. Saga was a pet. A leashed thing trotted out for others to admire. Soon she’d wed Bjorn. Would become one of them. Would bear Urkan children, would be part of their legacy. Bloodshed and war and taking, taking, taking…
“Saga,” began Rurik. His jaw flexed, his confident demeanor faltering.
“I’m done,” she said, hugging herself.
Silence for a long moment, then, “I thank you for showing the gallery to us. And I can assure you, I will hold your secret.”
“Good day, Lord Rurik,” said Saga. Turning, she made her way toward the doorway.
“Kassandr,” he called out. “Call me Kass.”
