“Oh, for the love of the stars.” Silla gripped the arms of her chair to keep from leaping to her feet. “Stand down. She means no harm.”
Reluctantly, the guards retreated, leaving the woman blinking uncertainly. After a moment, she produced a textile from her satchel, handing it to Ingvarr, who then delivered it to Silla.
It proved to be a square of fabric, the warp thread’s coloring changing every few lines. It bulged in places and had gaps in others, but there was something endearing about the textile.
“ ’Twas woven by the children at our shelter home,” explained the woman. “Each took a turn at the loom.”
Silla’s eyes widened, her heart expanding inside her.
“They were eager to make something for their princess.”
Blinking furiously, Silla clutched the fabric to her chest. She was moved beyond words. “Where are they?” she finally managed. “The children, that is. I would like to thank them.”
A tentative smile curved the woman’s lips. “They are back at the shelter home,” she replied kindly. “The children were not invited today.”
Silla felt herself frowning.
“Your parents were good and fair leaders,” the woman continued. “Long has it been since I’ve felt such hope. I feel as though I’ve gone back in time.”
Silla tried to remain stoic. Tried not to let the woman’s words affect her. Lady Tala shifted beside her, and Silla knew it was time for the next guest.
“What is your name?”
“Frida, Your Highness.”
“I thank you for bringing this to me, Frida. And I ask the honor of visiting the children who made this thing of beauty.”
Lady Tala shifted again, this time clearing her throat, and Silla blinked back her irritation.
“The honor would be all mine, Your Highness,” said Frida, a smile cracking wide across her face. But Ingvarr was suddenly there, ushering Frida toward the exit.
“Such a way with the commonfolk,” muttered Kaeja.
“Better than acting like I stepped in excrement,” Silla shot back.
Lady Tala’s sharp gaze had her slamming her mouth shut. She knew she ought not to rise to Kaeja’s jabs, but it was so very difficult.
As Silla fought to control her irritation, a familiar figure strolled into the hall.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a pair of dimples that caused women to swoon—Silla had witnessed it with her own two eyes—Atli Hakonsson made his way toward her with a clutch of blue flowers in hand. Black hair falling to his shoulders, square jaw covered ina dark beard, and smooth olive skin. But where his brother Eyvind’s eyes were a vibrant hazel, Atli’s were midnight black. And they were, Silla realized, homed in on her.
“What are you—this is meant to be an opportunity for the public to—” Flustered, she looked at Tala, who merely raised her brows, as if to say,Keep an open mind.
Atli strolled past the guards, who dared not challenge the jarl-in-waiting, and climbed the dais steps with all the confidence of a man who’d never been told no. But rather than approaching Silla, he plucked two flowers from the bunch, handing them to Liv and Kaeja.
Liv seemed delighted by the gift, while Kaeja sent the man a cutting look that Silla did not quite understand.
Atli ignored it, strolling to Lady Tala. “I saw these flowers on my morning ride and could not resist.”
At last, he reached Silla, handing her the largest flower in the bunch.
“That was…thoughtful of you, Atli.” Silla smelled it, because what else did one do when presented with a flower?
“I shan’t take any more of your time.” Atli’s gaze lingered on hers for a disorienting second before hewinked.And before Silla could think of any good, smart reply, Atli was already striding for the exit.
“Did he have something in his eye?” she asked Tala, watching his retreating form.
Tala sent her a speaking glance, and Silla had to press her lips tightly together to stifle her laugh. Gods, she could not wait to tell Hekla…though perhaps, for the sake of Atli’s pretty face, she would keep this incident from Rey. But before Silla could dwell on Atli’s curious behavior, the next guest was entering the hall.
