Her heart thunders.
Does Sigvid wish for her to stay? It will not be logistically possible, but if he wants her to remain in Toftlund, his sentiments may be more profound than hate. But are they warmer than keeping her as a mere live-in harlot?
He steps to the side, completely obscuring her from Thrain’s sight. “We will see you later.”
She leans around him in time to watch Thrain nod once before leaving them alone.
“I’m sorry, Sigvid, he just accosted me at the carriage.”
“I do not want you to be alone around him. I do not trust him-”
“My Lord? Avina?” Kar’s imposing voice halts their steps, allowing him and Ingirid to approach. They stop and bow low.
To both of them.
Avina bristles yet still holds her head up high despite Kar’s usualtreatment of her. So when Ingirid throws her arms around her neck, she is stunned and silent.
“My Queen,” she whispers, “thank you. Thank you for bringing closure for my Sven.” Ingirid takes her hand in hers and backs away, her eyes watering.
“Commander,” Kar extends a hand which he accepts. “This happened under Thrain’s watch.”
“It did.” He nods.
“Someone covered up his death. Someone murdered my boy, Your Highness.” Kar holds Ingirid against him.
“They did,” he answers.
Avina notices a potent tone shift with Kar. He differs to Prince Sigvid as his King instead of a man young enough to be his son.
“You know who killed my son.” Kar tilts his head to the side.
Sigvid smirks. “How much time do you have?”
32
AVINA
November 10th, Year 100, 9th Era
Toftlund City, Salt Province
“You could have put in a little more effort, Sigvid.” Grim scoffs as he wears a proper Salt tunic and vest with trousers the color of steel.
The Salt Prince chuckles, his hand outstretched, holding Avina’s as she steps out of the carriage.
He insisted on wearing his light leather armor while in Thrain’s presence. The mixture of the armor and his unruly hair–threatening to untangle from his braid with a single breeze–gives him a wild, unhinged appearance.
Something Thora assured her before they left is normal for Uncle Sigvid.
“Your Highness.” Grim inclines his head as she steps onto the cobblestone street.
She grins at the attention.
“Stop addressing her as Queen whenever you see her.” Sigvid scolds.
Avina internally chuckles at his request despite his own diminutive name for her being ‘little Queen.’ She brushes the soft fabric of hervelvet maroon gown, which flows down to her slippered feet. Gold embroidered knots swirl around her sleeves and bodice. Hidden between her breasts is the Ridge Sacred Stone.
“Did you find a place in town, or are you still staying at the Half-Goat Inn?” Sigvid questions Grim conversationally.
