“There’s more.” She sighs. “While you were in the Arena, Thrain left the Salt Province. Twice.”
Sigvid leans forward, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Where, Helga?” His brother has no reason to leave the province.
“Timber, My Lord.”
Fuck, there is only one reason that ass would go to Timber. What does he want with Avina?
When he returns to his tent that night, he finds his captive passed out on the fur rug beside the cot. A single blanket wraps around her contorted body, wrapped in on itself to conserve heat.
Avina, why are you on the floor?
Avina’s sweet form shivers violently in her restless sleep. He grunts as he bends at the knees, cursing himself for pushing the Army on such an arduous ride.Once he cradles her in his arms, the stress of the days ahead fades away, and all that matters is this damned woman.
A rare calm washes over him as he drinks in her pink lips and soft features. Carefully, he lays her on the cot. Sigvid retrieves extra fur pelts and then curls at her back as she presses against his chest. He wraps both of them in the warmth, holding her tight against him.
Fuck, perhaps I do not wish for Avina to die.
25
SIGVID
November 4th, Year 100, 9th Era
Toftlund City, Salt Province
The two-hundred Drengr army, plus Grim and a bound Avina, approach the gates of Toftlund on horseback.
An imposing wall of crushed colorful shells wraps around the city, protecting the seat of the Salt Province since its creation.
Sigvid hears a sharp intake of breath in front of him. A glance down shows Avina unblinkingly basking in the early evening sun, which strikes the stucco homes of Toftlund in a dazzling display. He smirks at her reaction.
“Impressive, is it not?”
His words cause her to jump in apparent surprise. After the previous night, she is more nervous in his presence and continues to poke at her bandaged arm. “I have read of this city a hundred times and could never have prepared for its beauty.”
I thought the same of you when you entered my cell in Scarwood.
He tightens the reins of his horse as an excuse to press his arms around her curves. As they ride closer to the city walls, her excitementfills him with an elusive emotion he has written off as belonging to children.
When she squeals as they are finally within sight of the mighty main gates, he knows she is eliciting joy within him. Joy to watch his little Queen react with pure innocence.
“The Briny God.” She whispers as the gates open, revealing a towering, lifelike statue that resembles the legend of the Briny God. The statue wears elaborately detailed Salt armor, a single braid down his back, and a pair of dual axes.
“How does it feel to glimpse into the face of the far superior god?” Sigvid nuzzles her hair with his nose, relishing her softness.
Avina snorts, opens her mouth to retort, and seems to think better.
“Come now, Avina. No snarky response?” Instead of a quip, he watches her cheeks redden.
What had she been about to say?
She sighs, twisting her head to the side, causing her long curls to brush along his forearms.
A lone rider rushes out of the gates and directs his path toward them.
“Good day, my lord.”
“What does my brother want, Gunter?” The short, balding man is one of his brother’s many sycophants.
