Jonas looked around the musty room with distaste. Though braziers were arranged in each corner and a plush bed was set beneath the lone window, it was far from the opulence he’d grown used to in the queen’s quarters. Not only that, but the room was in an abandoned tower in a seldom-used wing of the castle.
But with King Ivar’s impending return to Íseldur, Jonas and Signe’s encounters had been relegated to whatever quiet corner of the castle they could manage. The queen was surprising in her ardor, and it was matched by Jonas’s own.
It was more than the fact that she was a queen—more than her enticing beauty. Jonas and Signe had forged a connection. It had started with their shared hatred of Eisa Volsik and only grown and expanded with each passing visit. The queen, it seemed, was starved for affection. Had lived too long in a loveless marriage. And Jonas, too, craved company after losing his brother and the Bloodaxe Crew. When he was alone with the queen, it felt for a moment like he had regained just a fragment of all that he’d once had.
And he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something alluring about burying himself inside the queen of Íseldur. There were the promises she’d whispered into Jonas’s ear—that he’d be granted power and status, that he’d be able to avenge his brother, and so much more—but there was also the forbidden aspect of their affair. It wasone thing to meet with the queen in her private quarters. But with the king’s forthcoming return, Jonas found himself even more enamored.
Footfalls from beyond the doorway met Jonas’s ears, and it was no surprise when the door swung open on groaning hinges. One of the queen’s personal guards ducked through the doorway, surveying the room before glaring at Jonas with steely eyes. It was clear the man was no fan of Jonas’s. But it was equally clear he would say nothing of the queen’s indiscretions.
The guardsman ducked out, and a moment later, Queen Signe entered and closed the door behind her. She wore a silk ivory robe, tied at the neck with a golden ribbon.
“You look like a gift waiting to be unwrapped,” murmured Jonas. He wasted no time, surging forward with need that surprised even himself. Jonas had the robe fluttering to the floor in a matter of heartbeats. Beneath it, the queen wore a nightdress so thin, he could see every part of her.
“Lovely,” he growled in her ear, placing rough kisses down the smooth column of her throat. “Far too lovely for a brute like me.” It was one of many games they played together.
“Take me all the same,” she urged, and Jonas pushed her backward until they tumbled onto the bed. “But you must not leave marks for my husband to find—”
Jonas ignored her, dragging his teeth along her collarbone while sliding her nightdress off her shoulders. He knew the forbidden aspect of their meetings was an aphrodisiac to the queen as well. In the dazed aftermath of one of their sessions, Signe had confessed to Jonas that Ivar hadn’t warmed her bed since the birth of her youngest son, and that the burns her husband now sported repulsed her.
He tended his queen in all the ways he knew how, making sure she was loud enough for her sullen guardsman to hear. Soon they lay on the furs, limbs entwined and breaths heaving. In the aftermath, Signe was much like any other woman. Soft and tender, fingertips trailing along Jonas’s bare chest. In this state, she was stripped down to what Jonas suspected was her very barest self. And he foundhimself wondering what kind of a person Signe might have been were she not queen.
He gave himself a mental shake.
“Volund will take you to Rökksgarde in two days,” said Signe, breaking the silence. “There you’ll continue your training. But I must stay in Sunnavík.”
Jonas lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “I thought you were to accompany us?”
A sad smile crossed Signe’s lips. “I will join you in time for the ritual ceremony. But first, I have matters to tend to in Sunnavík.”
“What kind of matters? Do you need my help—”
Her fingers pressed into his lips, silencing him. “I need you inRökksgarde,Jonas.” She sighed. “I will join you the moment I am able to. If all goes well, our forces shall soon be marching north.”
“North? Beyond Rökksgarde?”
“My, but you are certainly full of questions today,” teased Signe. “And here I’d thought you’d have other plans for those lips.”
Jonas blinked, trying to quell his irritation. He rolled Signe onto her back, though his smile was brittle. “As my queen wishes,” he purred before climbing down her body.
An hour later, Jonas whistled a tune as he made his way back to the garrison hall. While he normally kept to the defensive walls to maintain a low profile, tonight he craved fresh air, and so he took a stroll across the sparring grounds. Stars speckled the winter skies, and the smaller of the sister moons was nearly full, her light catching tiny snowflakes drifting lazily down.
For a moment, Jonas was filled with the strangest sensation—contentment. He had a woman whose company he actually enjoyed and a plan to avenge Ilías’s death. For the first time in weeks, Jonas’s thoughts weren’t consumed with all that he’d lost.
A low, keening wail drifted across the yard, making Jonas’s feet falter. Moonlight spilled through the sparring grounds, catching movement on the far end.
“Cry, little Freki,” came a voice Jonas immediately recognized. The brute, Horfi.
His gaze narrowed as he made them out—the much larger Horfi towering over Freki’s smaller form. As Freki bent double, Horfi drove his knee into his jaw with a sickening crack.
“Fight back, weakling,” taunted Horfi, grabbing Freki by the hair and delivering a sharp slap across his face.
“Leave me be!” begged Freki, squirming to get out of Horfi’s grip.
“Not until you learn to fight like a man.”
Fight like a man,rang in Jonas’s ears, sparks on the dry tinder of the wounds left by his father.Fight like a man,his father had said, delivering blow after blow until his world had gone black.
Jonas knew he should keep walking. That this was none of his business. But in that moment, Ilías’s face filled his mind’s eye. What if Jonas hadn’t been there to protect his younger brother all those times? Wouldn’t he have wished someone else had intervened?
