“Are you happy now, Mother?”
“Quite.”She smiles, her heels clacking loudly across the floor. “I am leaving to have tea with Ingirid and some other friends. Pierre, my footman, will bring me home.”
The front door slams, and Avina can hear a huff from Sigvid.
“Avina!” He bellows, shaking her knees.
She steels herself as each step quivers her bones. Frida is correct, and Avina needs to find her confidence as Queen.
With conviction she does not possess, and a tight silver circlet with sapphires matching the Sacred Stone hung brazenly between her lifted breasts, Queen Avina Bloodstone descends the stairs where Sigvid awaits.
Her heels clack along the wood, pulling his focus from the fireplace to her form.
When their eyes lock, they both waver.
His russet locks are unbound, cascading in shiny waves down his upper back. He has even tamed his beard and woven it with tiny silver runes. Instead of armor, he wears a matching black tunic and trousers with a silver vest embroidered in the knotted Salt Style. The flickering fire illuminates the rune tattoos on his hands, clutching his pipe outside his gaping lips.
There is handsome, and then there is Sigvid’s piercing blue eyes drinking in her appearance like a horn of mead. Her skin feels lit aflame with a fire that makes sure to lick between her legs, stoking the familiar yearning for him.
He is strength incarnate–a warrior who seizes his desires with little regard for the opinions of others. She has never wanted to see a crown on another man’s head.
She clears her throat and continues wordlessly down the stairs until she stands opposite him.
“Avina,” he gazes at her as if she is a dazzling piece of art he can’t quite describe. “You look… incredible.” He gives her a crooked smile while he clutches his pipe between his teeth. He holds his arm out for her to take.
Somehow, his musk is more intense and delectable than usual. He is sinking through her senses, smothering her in an arousing pool.
As he guides her to the front doors, she catches his orbs lingering on her again.
“Avina,” he stops them both. She can almost see his mind pining for the right words. “I am not normally left speechless, but when you descended those steps,” he searches her face, “I thought my cold black heart had stopped beating. My little Queen, every moment I get to savor you, I am convinced you can not become more alluring. You are my deepest fantasy, ripped from my mind for the gods to taunt me with.”
She cannot look away from his gaze, which holds her captive with a fierce intensity.
No one has ever spoken such moving words about her mere appearance. Most men have nothing kind to say about her thick curves, and she questions whether he knows it is Avina he speaks of.
He tucks a stray curl around her ear, “I would be lying if I said it is only those soft, golden curls or that infectious smile that has me wrapped up in you like you are the godsdamn air I need to breathe. You are like a puzzle I have been trying to solve in the pit of my stomach. Resolving who you are and what you mean to me.”
She smirks slightly at the irony that she feels the same about him.
“It is as if someone shattered your image, and now it is my role to pick up the pieces. And fuck if it is not a thrill to uncover another treasure of you.”
“My lord?” Calder–one of his young Drengr who already bore the form of a massive warrior–enters, having been paid to act as their footman this evening.
Sigvid tightens his hold on her face, a growl issuing low and deep in his chest. “What, Avardsson?”
“Carriage is ready, my Lord. We must leave now to arrive on time.” Calder hardly flinches at his tone before leaving them alone again.
Sigvid seems to want to say more, but his hand drops, leaving her cheeks uncharacteristically cold.
The ride to Thrain’s home in Toftlund is uncomfortable as they hide from each other.
“Who all is attending?” She breaks the silence only when he helps her to the steps of Thrain’s house.
“You, I, Mother, and Thrain will be present. Kar and Ingirid are myparents' old friends so they will attend. That is how he became a Drengr. Thrain’s new Second, his guest, and the rest of my inner circle will also attend.”
He stops at the front door, glowering at the knocker as if it offends him.
“What is it?”
