Sigvid will never relinquish his hatred of her even if her marrying Thrain is not of her own free will. All she wants is to keep Sigvid. To protect the man for whom she holds such passion. She would give up her own life for him to remain safe.
He crouches in front of her.
“I watched you at the gathering. Sig has never looked at anyone like that before. Shit, he’s never danced with anyone willingly. He never brought anyone to his bed. Fucked anyone sober…” Slode’s eyebrows begin to furrow as he speaks.
“What are you saying? I’m his special slave.” She snorts.
He shakes his head, putting distance between them. “I’m not getting in trouble for saying shit.”
“Well, you already have, so at least give your words meaning before Sigvid slices you to pieces.”
He tangles his hands in his black mane. “Sigvid doesn’t love. He finds a willing, drunken companion and rails her in the alley of the tavern. She doesn’t sleep in his bed, and he sure as fuck doesn’t travel for a week to save her cat.”
He leans against the table as if deciding whether or not to continue.
“Fuck, I didn’t want to talk about this.” He drags a hand over his inked face. “I fucking know why you said ‘yes’ to Thrain. But it doesn’t matter. Sigvid won’t let you go without a fight. And you need to let him know he doesn’t need to feel guilty for finally finding...” He shakes his head, grasping at words.
“Finding what?”
“Someone to give a shit about.”
44
SIGVID
Two Weeks Ago
December 1st, Year 100, 9th Era
Thrain’s Home, Salt Province
“Brother!” Sigvid’s roar scatters passersby as he tears up the steps to Thrain’s home. He yanks the front door off the rusty hinge. “You fucking ass! I am going to rip your heart from your chest and fucking eat it!”
He already nearly demolished the tavern inside after claiming his Avina. Self-control is a short commodity for Sigvid, but today, he exhausted every ounce he possessed and is ready to ride out his devastation.
A few servant women inside the house scream, scampering away from his crimson eyes. His footsteps shudder the floorboards while his roar threatens to tear down the walls. He dismissively tosses the door into the crackling fire.
“Thrain! We have to fucking talk. Get the fuck out here! You fucking coward! Fucking two-faced snake!” A mini-earthquake eruptsalong the floorboards from the depth of his tone, raining dust upon the front room.
Sigvid will obliterate his entire family home if his brother refuses to show up. He kicks over the long table so it bounces into the fire, instantly igniting the wood. He then heaves the chairs through the windows, shattering the glass.
“Prince Sigvid?” Helga jogs out of the hallway to the bedrooms, tying a forest green robe around her athletic body. Her legs and arms are bare, and her raven hair falls loose.
Obviously, she is working for the enemy today.
“What in the Briny God’s name are you doing?” She demands.
He finishes smashing the last chair to splinters before stalking toward Helga, his berserker voice low.
“Do you know what Thrain has done?” He growls.
There is no way she does not know. Is that not her role as his spy?
Thrain will rule Treland and then bury Avina in the dark confines of some castle as her father had.
“Fucking fuck!” He rips the tapestry of Salt off the wall, barely aware of his destruction.
Helga holds up her hands and speaks calmly, “My Lord, please, you must fully understand-”
