“Little one,” Sigvid cups her cheeks in his hands, “She did tell me. She is in love with Thrain. I caught him taking advantage of her several winters ago, so I initiated the rumor that it was me instead. She understands Thrain’s limitations as a lover, even if she believes he is fixable.”
Avina cannot seem to close her mouth. She also wonders if they had both tried less to protect the other, they could have easily killed Thrain.
Her chest clenches, and she throws her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his.
Sigvid holds the soft thickness of her curves against the hardness ofhis broad chest. She savors his firm lips and the taste of his breath along her tongue. A needy moan escapes her lips.
“Avina,” he pulls her away until their eyes lock, “I should have stolen you from the Sapphire Palace all those winters ago. I should have removed Rendel’s head as we left, and we could have been together.”
His eyes searched hers as if struggling to decide if he should verbalize whatever plagues his thoughts.
“You aremylittle Queen, and you have brought peace to the violent storm that is my life in a way I did not believe possible.” He strokes her cheek with his tattooed fingers, then tangles them through her curls.
“I love you, Avina.” His piercing gaze holds her steady as he caresses her golden locks.
Wait. What?
She freezes, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. What she has longed to hear. Time slows almost to a standstill. Her body turns cold yet tingly as it absorbs the words just spoken. She stares back at Sigvid, unblinking.
“Every slight seemingly imperfection I discover only spurs me to protect you from the horrors of this world,” he continues. “Only your touch can quiet my rage, and only your eyes can remind me of the importance of home. Because home exists where you lay your head beside mine, my sweet little Queen.”
Oh, my Goddess.
Avina feels as if she is floating on a cloud. No one has ever spoken those three little words to her. They envelop her core in a warmth that spreads to her toes and has her dizzy in his embrace.
“Sigvid, never, in a thousand lifetimes, could I have guessed the man who ripped my heart from my chest would be you. It is time you knew why I continued the war.” She inhales deeply before continuing, “I knew the expectation in the eyes of the Timber court would be to marry another Manchineel. I couldn’t bear more of the agony, so rather than accept my fate, I perpetuated our battles.”
Avina’s lips quiver at her looming confession. “You showed me what it felt like to be seen in a life where I was invisible. Even at war, I was no longer alone. Sigvid, you are everything, my mystery man, enemy, captor, and lover.”
She steps away from him and unsheaths her axe, dropping Thrain’s garish ring and stomping it into the ground. Laying the cold blade over her palm, she inhales, “I, Avina Bloodstone, swear fealty, even in death, to my Lord Commander Prince Sigvid Thordsson.” She repeats the language of the Drengr oath.
With a hiss, she cuts her palm and then strokes her bloody hand against the steel of her axe before pressing it over her heart, symbolically offering her life to her warrior.
“I love you, Sigvid.”
He retrieves a small dagger from his belt and slices his hand, shocking her as the pledge does not include a shared blood oath. He extends his hand, stealing hers so their bloodied palms mix.
“My little Queen,” he kisses her forehead. “I accept your blood oath,” he whispers against her brow. “I offer my own. I will protect you in life and death as your Guardian, Drengr, Prince, and lover. You are now bound to me as I am to you. Our lives forfeit should we break this oath.”
His crooked smile against her temple swells her heart until she is likely to burst. She smears their combined blood across her forehead, and his smile widens.
“Come with me to the longhouse.” He takes her hand. “I have something to show you.”
48
AVINA
December 21st, Year 100, 9th Era
Toftlund City, Salt Province
Throughout the streets, revelers persist in various stages of merriment. Some stumble about clutching ale horns while others dance and sing to the many musicians scattered throughout the city.
No one glances at Prince Sigvid or Queen Avina as they wind toward the longhouse. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end the closer their path takes them to Thrain’s home. Despite the Solstice celebration on full display, she hates knowing that Thrain can interrupt them anytime.
Once they arrive at the closed longhouse, she is pleasantly surprised to find silence when he unlocks one of the side doors.
“Hold on.” He lights a few sconces, illuminating the darkened space that is at least warmer than the streets.
