He shakes his head, frustrated that Slode destroyed his moment with her. “I have known you since we were a few winters old, and I have never seen you appear this decent. Who is the lucky person?”
“It is well um…”
Bertie bobs around the corner, arm in arm with Avina. Both have content little smiles on their bright faces. Glinting in the sunlight trickling through the A-frame windows are the blades of the axes he crafted for her. One day, he will teach her how to wield them properly.
“Oh my!” Bertie clutches his face with both his hands when he sees Slode.
“Hello, Duke Bertram.” Slode extends the mead bottle to Bertie, who visibly melts under Slode’s stern gaze that, for once, softens.
“Please, I told you before, call me Bertie. But thank you.” Bertie bats his long dark eyelashes at Slode, who relaxes against a support beam, his muscles like carved stone. Black ink marks nearly every bit of Slode’s skin, including his neck and face. Seeing him look sheepish has Sigvid on the verge of laughing.
Avina’s eyes are saucers. He catches her looking from Slode to Bertie and back again before lifting to Sigvid’s gaze.
Mirroring her wide eyes, he shrugs, content that his oldest friend has found someone to make him happy, even if it is someone from the Ridge.
“Courting someone?” Sigvid slaps Slode’s back while Bertie retreats upstairs to drop the bottle in his room.
Slode slips his hands into his trouser pockets with a shrug. “Maybe I have a thing for smiles, toned muscles, and tousled hair. Why don’t you leave me alone, Sigvid!”
Avina snickers at his side. “You wanted to tell me something?” She whispers to Sigvid while Slode glances up the stairs where Bertie vanished.
Sigvid gives her a crooked smile, “I have been interrupted twice trying to tell you, and it will not happen a third time.”
I will find the right moment tonight.
“Look who it is.” Slode glowers through the front windows at the carriage, winding up the dirt path to Blackwood. “His royal asshole.”
“Fuck, I swear Thrain can sense when people are having a good time and then comes to ruin it.” Sigvid frowns, his anger ebbing into a looming crescendo with each step of his brother’s horses.
Bertie returns to the entryway just as the carriage halts by the front steps to Blackwood. “Is someone else joining us?”
Sigvid overhears Slode whispering to Bertie. Outside, his brother exits his carriage onto the snow-lined path wearing a black doublet stretched across his chest and matching tight pants. They all watch him ascend the stairs and knock lightly on the door.
Sigvid opens it with a scowl, revealing their small party clustered behind him.
“Brother!” Thrain lets himself inside, stepping around Sigvid. His orbs traverse the high beams of the central room, narrowing slightly at Slode and Bertie until they settle on Avina, with her arms crossed over her chest. “My Queen.”
He kisses both her cheeks, and Sigvid’s rage threatens to boil over.
No one but me has any business placing their lips on her body.
What would be the harm of putting my fist through his skull?
“Wewere about to head into town for the festival.” Their King’s sudden, unwelcome presence evaporates all signs of her earlier happiness.
“Your Highness, may I speak with you privately?” He holds out hishand, which she ignores—stomping onto the deck, her golden curls menacingly swish. Thrain steps to follow her outside. She slams the door in his face.
Thrain sighs, cracking his knuckles. “I didn’t realize the Queen had such a fire in her belly. I wonder what she is like under the sheets?” He dares to smirk at Sigvid.
“I suggest you rephrase your question,” Sigvid growls a low warning.
Thrain’s grin extends ear to ear. “Tell you what, brother, when I finish pumping my seed into her pussy, I’ll let you lick out the excess.”
Sigvid snarls in outrage.
I am going to rip his fucking throat out!
Before he can throttle his brother, a pair of hands restrain his arms, allowing Thrain to step onto the porch with Avina.
