“Father—” She spins around to find him watching, looking as if they are about to discuss courtly matters rather than her unease over Rendel.
Before King Thord’s untimely passing, the Salt King would gaze upon her with a mixture of emotions that took her many years to process–pride, excitement, and a twinkle of something else. It was as if the man thought Avina was special, worthy.
However, that is never how she would describe the look in herfather’s cold eyes, unlike hers. He looked at her as if she is a well-developed contract—an item of significant value he was selling for higher than it was worth.
“Do you understand what is at stake in marrying King Rendel of Timber?” He clasps his hands behind his back.
“He is a King of Treland-”
“Must you allow your naivety to show on every occasion?” He spits.
She recoils from the jab and remains silent.
“Your mother’s filthy Redwood blood still stains the opinions of those who matter in Scarwood. You must cultivate a positive impression on the people of Timber.”
“Are the Redwoods not the true heirs to the throne of Timber and Treland?”
She recalls her readings on Treland’s history before the split into three distinct provinces. At that time, the Bloodstones of the Ridge grew tired of protecting the sacred stones while the Redwoods benefited from theseidr.
The revolt tore the country apart.
“That was centuries ago. Bringing up your Redwood bloodline while in Timber is ill-advised.”
She sighs as she paces in front of the mirror. “Father, must I marry Rendel?” The question whooshes out of her mouth, leaving her instantly edgy for his response.
He plucks an apple from the silver bowl on the small round table in her chambers. “Do you not care to merge our kingdoms?”
“What of the Thordsson brothers?” she asks hesitantly, afraid he did not hear her.
But, oh, he does catch that question. He freezes with the flesh of the fruit against his lips.
“What did you just ask me?”
She swallows and begins frantically curling the loose hair around her pointer finger. “I only meant that they are also princes. Well, Thrain is King now,” she mutters. “Perhaps we could unite with Salt instead. Thord and Frida have always been kind to me. I can only imagine the demeanor of her sons.”
Her father slowly lowers the apple before tossing it back into the bowl. A wildness flashes behind his irises that make her feel queasy.
“It was only a suggestion.” She backtracks, her heart racing at the strange fire in her father’s gaze.
“Rendel controls the largest standing army in the country, perhaps on the continent of the Endless Shore. With their rich farmland and vast population, Timber will make for an unmatched ally.” He pauses as if calculating his next move. “The newly crowned King Thrain could have made a solid match.”
She senses he is concealing information from her. But why? To what end?
“Prince Sigvid, the eldest son, is a monster. He is a vile barbarian, a berserker. You will never go near that man.”
She shakes her head, not understanding the sudden insistence of her father. “Thord always said-”
“Do not speak that fucking man’s name in my presence!” He bellows so intensely she stumbles into her armoire, clutching her pounding chest.
“I need some air.” She forces out a bow before running from her room.
She intended that conversation to get her out of this marriage. Instead, she only learns of her father's bizarre animosity toward Thord and his eldest son.
Immediately, a chorus of ‘Your Highness’ and curtsies are on all sides as she dashes into the corridor. She feels a familiar tightening around her throat, as if someone is determined to keep her from breathing. She rips the diamond necklace from her throat and tosses it into a potted fern, although the strangling sensation lingers.
Avina gathers the obnoxiously wide skirt of her dress before running the length of the hallway. At the end, she pushes through a set of heavy double doors and emerges onto one of the upper courtyards.
Trees dot the high garden, full of multi-colored roses and veins bursting with glistening gems. She designed this courtyard with the help of Queen Frida. Over the winters, her kindness and generosity toward Avina made her the closest mother figure she has.
