She asked Sigvid about the contract, and he snapped at her. Everything he says is still a game. She is a possession, a toy to him. Not just sexually, but her existence is one big joke.
“Sigvid is not a good man, Your Highness. He wants to possess you completely, hide you away, and use you until he breaks you. His fury is his undoing.”
Thrain shifts under his shirt, removing his tunic and revealing a bare, sculpted chest painted in as many tattoos as Sigvid. He turns away from her to reveal horrifying scars spreading across his back, from his shoulder blades down to his waist.
“Goddess.” She breathes. “What happened to you?”
He tosses his shirt back on. “Sigvid. I was fifteen. He thought my prank was mean and threw me into the hearth.”
Avina shifts uncomfortably. She can believe Sigvid would shove his brother into the fire but also suspects there is more to the story. Since the war, she quickly learns he has never harmed anyone without reason.
“Not everyone feels such animosity toward you, my lovely lady.” He takes her hand, pressing his lips to the top. “Avina, allow me to crown you as my Queen. Together, we can rule Treland. You do not need to give me an answer now. Take to the Solstice to think on it.” He leans in and kisses her cheek.
Lingering momentarily, he adds, “I will never harm you. You would be safe with me.”
He leaves without another word, leaving her feeling like she needs to hurl the contents of her stomach until she cramps with pain.
He asked me to marry him!
The thought of taking Thrain’s hand and lying in bed with him night after night leaves an empty chasm in her chest. Ruling Treland was never Avina's thought. If anything, she has resigned her life as Queen of Timber to be subjugated to another Manchineel while, in the Ridge, a cold-hearted lord would stifle her to perpetuate his life of gold, women, and wine.
Remaining in Salt is the most appealing.
But not with King Thrain.
There is one man in Salt whose side she doesn’t wish to leave. Yet, after what Thrain has said, perhaps a life with him is still just the imaginings of a naive girl. No matter how he touches her heart or makes her feel like the only person alive, Sigvid never desires her as more than a slave.
What about saving Nellie and killing the Hound Master? His affectionate words before leaving Blackwood? You cannot deny there is something there. He may be a Beast, but he is your Beast!
That annoying emotion-lead part of herself argues.
No, the logical part wins out.Sigvid has yet to explicitly express interest in me as a partner or a wife—nothing beyond a favorite whore.
She paints a smile on her lips and struts from the bedroom, looking for all the mead she can throw back.
40
SIGVID
November 28th, Year 100, 9th Era
Toftlund City, Salt Province
Sigvid’s drinking horn cracks from his growing tension at Avina’s absence from the gathering.
Fuck.
He hands off the ale to Slode, who is unbothered at the prospect of double-fisting his alcohol tonight. His closest friend hates gatherings as much as he does. If only Sigvid didn’t need to stay sober to watch over Avina. Not to mention, the last time he drank heartily was the night she got the better of him.
She vanished from the central hearth while he turned his back for a fucking second to pour a horn of ale. Did she use her invisibility to hide? No, he would have seen her.
They each have unique abilities to care for the other one now that she made an unintended sacrifice in the form of Lord Ives and formally accepted her role as Keeper. Even he had to brush up on his lore to comprehend how everything plays a part. As Guardian, he can now see her even when invisible. As Keeper, she can heal his wounds.
Just as he cracks his neck, preparing to tear apart his family home,Thrain flounces from the hallway by the bedrooms with a shit-eating grin on his lips. Sigvid stops him with a palm to his chest, curling his lip at his brother’s embellished attire.
Did he fucking steal this off a Timber lord?
“Where is she?” He keeps his voice low and firm.
