Footsteps move toward the door, but Thrain’s voice stops them. “My special guest is arriving at the Solstice. My plan will succeed.”
Avina can hear kissing noises and feels her lip curl.
“No need to worry, Helga. You will always remain my main mistress. You will carry my bastards.”
“You don’t find ruling Salt enough power? You wouldn’t need anyone else…just me.”
Avina can sense they are right on the other side of the door and dare not breathe.
“Feeling sentimental? You knew what you were signing up for. Go, I am waiting on my Queen.”
She has no time to hide when the door wrenches open, revealing Helga with a knitted brow.
“Your Highness.” She waves her arm inside, where Thrain now sits behind his desk.
Avina steps around Helga when her arm flies out to catch her. “Stay the course,” her whispered, frantic voice says.
Stay the course?
Why would Helga warn her of anything? This sham arrangement will yield no marriage but a forced union to take control of Treland.
“My Queen. I am pleased to see you take your summons seriously.” He drapes his legs atop the desk with a saccharine smile poised over his chiseled features.
“What do you want?” She seethes, imagining how lovely a gilded dagger would look embedded in his neck.
“Now, now, my bride-to-be, no need to look at me with such hatred in those pretty little eyes. Don’t make me regret my offer to you. You give me one son, and you can live the remainder of your life alone. I’ve heard you’re quite accustomed to that lifestyle.” His laughter has become the most grating noise her ears have ever heard, like a haunting spirit of her nightmares.
“Say what is on your mind, or I shall leave!” She channels Sigvid’s energy.
“Ah!” Thrain gestures toward something in the hallway. “My good man.”
She feels her stomach leap to her throat. “Father?”
King Ceowald of the Ridge stands in the doorway bearing a wide smile she knows is not for her.
“It has been a long time coming, but we are on the correct course.” Thrain beams up at Ceowald. His excitement is similar to a beggar receiving food or a child finally indulging in a sweet.
“What is going on?” She steps backward, her back connecting with the wall.
Ceowald slaps her across the cheek before she can register his action. She clutches her stinging cheek as she slides away from him.
“Sigvid Thordsson has been off-limits to you. And now I hear you are his whore.” He inhales deeply before continuing, “I knew you would be difficult to raise. A woman, a Redwood, looking so much like your harlot of amother.”
“What are you saying?”
Ceowald removes his traveling cloak and lays it across Thrain’s desk. “I only need you for your womb. I need you to produce a goodmaleheir for Thrain. One that the brilliant, stronger men around you can raise into a powerful King.”
“I still do not understand why you must discuss this with me now. Thrain and I are not even married, nor have we laid together.”
Thrain plucks imaginary lint from his vest. “All of Toftlund knows my brother has developed a soft spot for you. He is hardly subtle. Yet, I find the audacity of his behavior unsettling for my future reign. He plows into you like a common harlot. Even if your virtue means little to my goals.”
“You said if I agreed to marry you, I could have these final days with Sigvid.” Two weeks ago, she arrived at Thrain’s home to tell him diplomatically that she will never accept his hand in marriage. She confessed her feelings regarding Sigvid even if Thrain, and apparently her father, have other plans.
Ceowald grasps her shoulders and shakes her so hard her head lashes forward and backward. “You are to provide an heir with Thrain, not with Sigvid!”
“I did agree with your seemingly benign request, Avina.” Thrain interrupts. “But after we announced the union of Treland to the Salt people, my dear brother fucked you in an empty tavern!”
Ceowald releases her, and they both back her into a corner.
