Even in the somewhat grainy footage, he recognized her instantly. The curve of her face, the loose strands of hair falling across her cheek.
“It’s her,” Sven said quietly. “Bryn.”
Lars’ jaw tightened. “I’ll have the guards bring her in.” He pointed at Sven. “I told you not to trust her. She’s showing her true colors now, showing up here, creeping around like she’s trying to break in.”
Sven shook his head, though doubt flickered through him for just a moment. “If that’s the case, why didn’t she just kill me when she had the chance?” But why hadn’t she just walked to the gate and knocked?
Lars headed for the door.
“I want her brought to me,” Sven said firmly.
Lars’s eyes narrowed. “With all due respect, that’s a risk.”
“She’s not a threat.” Somewhere in his heart, he knew that to be true.
“What about Alitta? She’s already demanded a meeting with you.”
Sven cussed. “I forgot about her. Have my mother entertain her while we deal with this.”
Lars rolled his eyes. “I’ll have her escorted to your mother’s apartment.”
As he watched the monitor, Bryn moved closer to the gate and hesitated, very indecisive like she was torn between courage and fear.
Sven watched her as Lars disappeared into the hallway. Every instinct screamed she wasn’t here to hurt him. Fate had just decided their paths weren’t done crossing.
When she disappeared from the screen, he made his way out the door and headed toward his meeting chamber. Lars would automatically bring her there, and Sven wanted to be waiting.
He sat on his throne and made himself as comfortable as he could. Lars entered the chamber first and shot him a dirty look.
“This is a mistake,” he muttered. “Mark me on it.”
Sven didn’t answer and looked beyond Lars. Two guards entered with Bryn between them. She stumbled as she saw him but the guards pulled her along.
She stopped in front of him and their eyes locked. Finally, the woman who dominated his thoughts.
Face to face.
Chapter Seven
Bryn
Bryn froze as she entered the room and came face to face with the man on the poster. The man who had haunted her thoughts since she arrived. The King of Stagholt. Her pulse hammered in her ears, as much from nervous energy as from anger.
She had imagined this moment a hundred different ways with no idea of what she might say or if Sven even remembered her face. But none of her scenarios had included her hands being zip tied in front of her or being escorted by guards.
He sat on an elaborate chair, or was it a throne? She wasn’t sure, but he had no expression on his face that she could read. His eyes bore into hers, but he didn’t speak.
Even in the colder temperatures of Stagholt, sweat rolled down the back of her neck. From embarrassment more than anything, a little temper perhaps. Despite her protests, not one guard had said anything since they unceremoniously grabbed her off the sidewalk. She had been too shocked to protest at first, but when she had demanded answers, their response had been to gag her.
Sure, maybe she had been a little lost while circling the castle, but there had to be other tourists who were as curious as she had been. Had been, being past tense. Getting an inside glimpse of the castle under the current circumstances was not worth it.
At least they had removed the gag before they entered the chamber. Her jaw twitched to release some of the tension.
The room was absolutely silent when they stopped in front of Sven. For some reason, that made her angrier. He could have said something. Anything. Her temper reared and she made an exaggerated curtsy.
“Your highness.”
A man stepped from the corner of the room. “Majesty.” He was twice as big as the other guards and the expression on his face would have scared a grizzly bear.
