“But that is your title. What is wrong with that, my little Queen?”
She glowers at him, ignoring Thrain’s speech, which finally comes to a close with polite applause from everyone but Sigvid. The band commences a livelier jig, and servants appear with silver platters of steaming food.
“Do you realize you are the only person who doesn't use my title?” She leans around the man, placing root vegetables in a honey glaze on her plate.
“I don’t use your title.” Slode interrupts, his mouth full of bread.
She shakes her head with a little grin. “Sigvid uses it diminutively.”
“I could always call you my whore. Or would you prefer slut?” Sigvid leans across the table, grinning at the color rising in her cheeks.
Slode stops chewing and looks a little like he wants to be sick.
She pokes at the roasted chicken slices on her plate. “Are you always so charming with women? Or am I just special?”
“Oh, my little one, you are just special.” He nudges her calf with the toe of his boot, making her squeak in surprise.
Come to think of it, she is the only woman whose body I have taken forcibly. She is the only one I have ever wanted to own.
“Do I need to rent you two a room?” Slode leans back in his chair, wielding a chicken wing.
“I think we have enough rooms at my place.” Sigvid winks at her, whose pale features cannot darken another shade of pink.
She drains her goblet and waves down a server for another, wavering slightly on the chair.
Remember last time you imbibed too much, Avina? You ended up in my chains.
“Gunter.” Thrain’s Second extends a hand to Sigvid, whose sole focus is the lightly tipsy Avina drinking her goblet with both hands. “You’re Sigvid, Thrain’s younger brother, right?”
“Older brother.” He snarls.
“I don’t believe I’ve met her before.” Gunter nods toward Avina. “Your wife.”
Thrain is determined to have his Second be someone dumber than him. Each imitation is denser than the last.
Sigvid sighs, quite aware that Slode and Avina's stares are bearing holes into the side of his head. He leans into the man’s ignorant mistake with a wink at her.
“Yes, this is my wife, Lady Avina.”
He glances at her hesitantly, only to find her bubbling with a rare happiness.
Is this enjoyment for the prank or the prospect of living as his Lady? Either way, that smile warms his cold heart.
“Is there any connection to Queen Avina Bloodstone of Timber?” Gunter asks her while Slode snorts into his horn of mead.
Without even a hesitation, she shakes her head. “Only parents with a preference for the name.”
Sigvid swells with pride at her leaning into their facade with such nonchalance.
“Hello, I am Gunter’s wife. Where did you two meet?” His wife turns out to be the leggy woman.
Her thick sing-song accent is not one he has ever heard before. Perhaps it was Steinlund. She looks like a praying mantis with puffy green sleeves and a severe tilt in her neck as if she has spent all her time hunched over.
“A royal ball hosted by a King. He wished to honor the engagement of a cruel man to a sweet princess.” Sigvid stuffs a hunk of meat into his mouth.
If he could turn back time, he would have murdered Rendel that night and stolen his princess to Salt. Damn them all for having put her through that torment.
“Honestly, the second I looked at her, I knew she wasdifferent.” He continues. “It took three winters for me to realize I should have courted her every day after our initial meeting.”
