“This new recipe has been brewed with local snowberries.” The meadery worker exclaims to the thick crowd lining up to the counter. “Beautiful honey leads the way with a strong aftertaste of our local sweet fruit.”
She peers around for a clear spot at the bar. She isn’t picky about her drinks as long as they are sweet and abundant. With her hood up, she glances back to the front door, where she sees Thora enter with a slightly older boy who looks like a younger version of Kar with fair hair braided at his temples. The duo slip through the crowd, careful not to draw attention to themselves.
That must be the infamous Lod Karsson. You two look as thick as thieves.
Avina twirls a curl under her hood, watching the suspicious duo as they slip deeper into the throng.
Lod stands at the opposite end of the bar, glancing around the room sheepishly while Thora rolls along the floor behind the bar.
Oh, my Goddess. Are they attempting to steal a bottle of mead in the most obvious way possible? This cannot be happening.Her palm slaps her forehead.Lod, you must blend in more. You will give away Thora! I would have just bought them a bottle at this point.
The older man behind the bar stumbles and then topples over. “Hey! What are you doing back here? Get out, thief!”
Thora’s wild curls pop up, and she rushes to the door. Yet, as sheand her partner in crime reach the exit, the man talking to the crowd steps in their way.
“What do we have here?” He sets his hands on his waist. “A couple of young miscreants? You two are in huge trouble.”
Avina throws back her hood and stands as tall as possible before the meadery worker. “I apologize, my good man.”
He squints as if struggling to see her properly.
He recognizes me but cannot remember I am Queen Avina.
“This is Prince Sigvid’s daughter.” She places a hand on Thora’s shoulder, tightening her grip to signal her not to run. “If you remember, our Dowager Queen Frida is in town, and he must have ordered her to grab another bottle. Is that right, child?”
She directs her question to Thora with a firm squeeze to her shoulder. Even Lod steps semi-behind Avina.
Thora nods, “Yes, ma’am, Unc-Father asked me to get more mead, and I misunderstood what he meant by ‘grab another bottle.’” Her fabricated guilty gaze drops to the floor while she rocks on her heels, attempting to look as innocent as possible.
The meadery worker slumps. “Of course, I apologize for being cross. Today has been busier than usual with the release of our new batch.”
“Here,” Avina hands him enough coins for three bottles and his trouble. “Thora, dear, you and Lod grab three bottles for our Prince.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The worker smirks and pockets the gold while Lod and Thora dash back to the counter for more mead.
The children shuffle outside without looking at Avina who follows with a heavy sigh.
“Next time, make any attempt not to be obvious.” She gives them both a stern look as she removes Lod’s bottle from his clutches.
Lod nods and leaves a dejected Thora and an exhausted Avina on the street.
“Care to escort me home, Thora? I find Blackwood quite lonely lately.” Avina walks down the street, counting down from five.
When she reaches one, she hears Thora loudly exhale and then the patter of her steps when she catches up.
“Fine.” She refuses to look at Avina. Her lips form a terse, thin line.
Silence lapses the space between them while they wind their way outof the city. Avina is hurt to know Thora feels such fevered animosity over her faux engagement. There is no way to explain to the girl that her King will remove her head should Avina cause trouble for him.
Thora clears her throat only when they step onto the dirt path winding through the trees to Blackwood. “Why?”
Avina sighs, knowing what she means. “Why what, Thora?”
“Why are you marrying Thrain? You know this is fucked up. You are supposed to marry Uncle Sig. How can you do this to him?” She stops to glower at Avina. A fiery defiance flashes in her bright green eyes.
“Or to me?” Thora waves her hands around as she talks, just like Sigvid does.
Avina bites down on her lip to keep from chuckling at the scene despite her heartbreak. If only the young girl knew the truth. And if only Sigvid could witness this miniature version of himself.
