And as the jarl scowled absently into his cup of wine, Rey was finally able to slip from the room.
Rey felt like a man newly freed from the gallows as he set course for Silla’s chambers. He wanted to hear her gripe about the lack of pockets in her gowns and tell him about the strange dream she’d had; wanted to count the freckles on her nose and trace the scar beside her eye.
Gods, he was turning soft.
But Rey’s happiness was short-lived. Upon his arrival at Silla’s chambers, her maid Hild informed him she took the evening meal with Atli Hakonsson. The name shattered his moods in an instant.
“AtliHakonsson?” Rey repeated with such loathing that poor Hild took a step backward. “My thanks,” he muttered, turning on his heel.
His insides twisted as he strode through the corridors, phantom whispers and laughter echoing in his skull. He’d warned Silla to becareful who she trusted, but Rey ought to have gone farther. Been more specific. Now he was viscerally aware of why Jarl Hakon had ushered him into a meeting immediately upon his return. How could he not have anticipated that the jarl would push Atli as a husband to Eisa Volsik?
Because he was a fool. Rey should know better than to feel any sort of kinship toward Jarl Hakon. Never mind that he’d been good friends with Rey’s father—that he’d fostered Rey through countless seasons while he trained with Eyvind and other Ashbringers. To a man like Jarl Hakon, his bloodline would always come first.
Rey’s ground-eating strides had him in Atli’s wing with astonishing speed. Guards milled outside the jarl-to-be’s door.
“Galtung?” asked Kálf, stepping forward. “You’re back sooner than—”
“Is she in there?” Rey demanded, unable to keep his ire at bay.
Kálf scowled at his tone. “Aye, but—”
Rey shouldered through the guards.
“Runný and Ingvarr are acting as chaperones,” Kálf called out.
But Rey was already pounding on the door. “Silla!” he bellowed, anger coursing through him. If it had been anyone else in that room with her buthim—
Rey raised his fist to pound again, but the door flew open, and Atli’s dark gaze met his. Rey had made it his business to avoid Eyvind’s pompous older brother as much as possible, but as Atli propped an arm against the doorframe to bar his entry, there was no avoiding the arse. Atli Hakonsson’s arrogant face still begged to be rearranged, his eyes gleaming in silent challenge.
Rey’s hands curled into fists. “Where’s Silla?”
“Do you meanEisa?” Atli’s mouth twisted up in mock confusion, before settling into a smarmy smile.It was a smile that sent Rey back in time. A smile that made him feel small and weak. Rey wanted to do what he hadn’t all those years ago. Seize Atli by the collar. Slam his fist into his jaw and wipe that smile right off his face.
“Is that Rey Rey?”
His body stilled at that voice, his heartbeat steadying. Silla’scurly head peeked out from under Atli’s arm, and before either man knew what was happening, she’d ducked under it and thrown herself at Rey.
As her arms and legs wrapped around him, a delighted laugh spilled free from her. It was like standing in a sunbeam in the middle of winter. Rey closed his eyes. Let his anger melt away. Home. He was home.
His hands hooked under her thighs and he pulled her up until his lips could meet hers. And perhaps Rey’s kiss was more claiming than it ought to have been.
Mine,he told Atli-gods-damned-Hakonsson, like a complete cave dweller. But Rey couldn’t care. As his tongue dipped into her mouth, he pulled back.
“You taste like wine.” Alotof it. Now that he realized it, she smelled like it, too.
He turned them toward the torchlight, illuminating her glazed eyes and bright-red lips. Rey’s heart lurched and the urge to punch Atli filled him once more. Had he plied her with wine? Tried to take advantage?
But Silla’s fingers slid into his beard, a lopsided grin on her face. “I must trim it.”
A chuckle shook loose from him, and Rey rested his forehead on hers. “No sharp objects for you tonight. Perhaps after you sleep this off.”
She lay her head on his shoulder, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. “I missed you so much, Rey Rey.”
One of Atli’s guards snickered, and Rey sent him a thunderous look before carrying her away from the onlookers. Her queensguard thankfully had the good sense to trail them at a distance, allowing him and Silla a modicum of privacy.
“I missed you, too, Sunshine,” he whispered into her hair, uncaring that she clung to him like a squirrel to a tree. “I have you,” he whispered into her ear. “And I’m not letting go.”
A choked sound came from her, and worry twisted in Rey’s gut as a tear slid along her cheek.
