The memory of Sigvid’s bawdy words still lingers in the heat between her thighs.
Not Thrain.
Never Thrain.
He cups her cheek, tilting her chin until she can no longer hide from his brown eyes. His overwhelming pine scent consumes her to the point she might retch on it.
“You misunderstand.” She swallows her lump of anxiety, catching in her throat.
I do not want you!
His eyes darken, and she feels him lean in closer. She panics and is unsure how to address him.
Ultimately, she decides to pose a question. “King Thrain, why did you have a copy of a marriage contract between Sigvid and me?”
That does the trick.
His breath brushes against her lips, bleeding onto her tongue. Despite how closely hisseidrmask may resemble his brother, he is far from Sigvid in every way.
Suddenly, his eyes harden when she lifts her blue orbs back to the King. He looks less like the Salt Prince than before. Almost as if his illusion is melting under her discerning gaze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His tone is firm and a bit unkind.
“After I killed Ives, I hid in your study. There was parchment sticking out of a drawer, and I opened it to fix it and found some items of interest.” She suspects there is only so long she can entertain him before he no longer finds her amusing.
“That old desk belonged to my father. Much remains the same since his death.” His response can not be more carefully crafted had he rehearsed it.
Or maybe he has.
She doesn’t know Thrain’s life.
“Thord’s signature was on the accord. I assumed he made a deal with my father. I want to know why. Why was it created and never used? Why was I married off to Rendel instead?”
More questions tumble out as her curiosity gets the better of her. Thrain likely will have no better answers, especially if Sigvid doesn’t know.
“As a Princess and a Queen, you should understand that agreements change. After meeting my brother, would you have wanted to marry the Beast you sent to the Arena?”
Avina flinches as if he has struck her.
How many of them believe she ordered Sigvid sold? When will she stop feeling shame for an act she did not commit?
“My hand did not send him to that miserable existence.”
If circumstances were different, the marriage contract would be in effect.
She pushes herself down that train of thought.
The one where she refuses to admit her heart holds even a little affection for the brutal warrior a room away. The man who saved her life, believes she is the most beautiful woman in all Treland, and who wrecks her world time and time again.
“My brother is ruggedly handsome, Your Highness. I have no doubt his passion is stirring, if stifling at times. But, he has never had an interest in a long-term affair with anyone. Marriage is far from his horizon. In fact,” he shakes his head as if suddenly plagued by the memory, “No, I shouldn’t say.”
She steps closer. “Please, King Thrain.” She uses his title on purpose—anything to hear more about Sigvid.
His shoulders slump as if her three little words defeat him.
“During the war, my mother and I urged my brother to hold peace talks with you. Forgive me, Your Majesty, but considering your unique position in Treland with the Ridge and Timber provinces, you hold more power than you realize. As a result, my mother and I encouraged him to wed you at different times. Now,” he holds up his hands, “I cannot speak for the accord struck with my father decades ago or why he could not make that work. But, when we broachedmarriage to you, my brother was far from enthusiastic. He was unwilling.”
Why does she feel sick?
