“His Majesty King Thrain requests your presence as soon as you enter the city.” He prattles off the message with such haughty self-importance that it takes all Sigvid’s self-control not to punch him square in the jaw.
“And if I would rather bypass my brother and return home?”
“King Thrain wants to speak with you today,” Gunter responds as if there is no room for discussion.
The truth of the matter is that his fucking ass of a sibling will march out to Sigvid’s home and demand an audience regardless. As much as Sigvid wants to lock himself away and play with his Avina, he must abide by Thrain’s rules.
For now.
“Fine.” He growls.
Gunter falls away from them as they ride into the city's Easternregion, bustling with wooden storefronts, stall vendors, and inns for merchants traveling across Treland and beyond. Sigvid is proud to say many tradespeople from other countries set up shop in Toftlund, ensuring it is by far the most diverse city in the country. Flags from countries like Steinlund, Skalor, and even the wealthy Astria wave proudly above everything from taverns to blacksmiths.
He inhales the smell of salt water, honey, and leather.Home.
Store owners and milling citizens pause along the cobblestone streets to ogle at the Drengr. He could easily discern the locals, who immediately take a knee as he rides by.
Avina hunkers down, trying to avoid the attention of the citizens who point and gape.
“They recognize you?” She spins around to look up at him. The horse's jostle bumps her further into his chest, causing his beard to stroke her cheek.
“A good leader is known and respected by his people. How else does he receive their allegiance?” Unlike Thrain, Sigvid takes a hands-on approach to the myriad of local issues, meaning almost all of Toftlund knows him by sight alone.
Avina shifts her weight, seemingly uncomfortable. “What are you insinuating?”
“That my younger brother’s poor leadership is disgraceful.” He scrunches his brow. “Do you have a differing commentary on him as King?”
“Not at all.” She sounds surprised, unprepared for his response. “After Rendel’s death, I try to be diligent where the Timber people need me most. Even if the nobles think otherwise.” She mutters the last bit under her breath.
“You are not the only one who studied their opponent, Avina. Your ability to take charge in a situation thrust upon you is simply remarkable.” He brushes her curls over her shoulder, revealing her still-flushed cheeks.
“I was forced to marry Rendel and only survived because some of my closest friends growing up were books.” She fiddles with her hands resting bound inher lap.
Sigvid chuckles, thinking of young Avina holed up in corners around the Sapphire Palace, balancing books on her knees.
He should ignore her comments. Instead, he reacts despite himself, “You are the most brilliant woman I have ever met. No matter our future, know you will always have my respect.”
“At one point, that was all I could have hoped for from you. But now,” Avina sighs deeply, “I am a mere trophy to hang in your home.” Her right hand twitches toward her freshly wrapped left forearm. “To shame and display for all to see. The Timber Queen has finally seen defeat.”
“Perhaps, but that does not detract from your inner strength.” For some unknown reason, her ability to withstand him is more than endearing. He is fucking addicted to the uncountable number of ways he can push this woman to the brink.
They march around the bend and enter the main street through Toftlund’s center, where smiling faces pack along the colorful storefronts. The sound of cheers is deafening.
Sigvid glances out and notices many city folk struggle to stand on their feet. Some even look dazed.
Is everyone fucking drunk?
They continue toward the tallest building in town with high wooden beam ceilings and a thatched roof. It was Sigvid’s ancestral residence, but now it is a central gathering place known simply as the longhouse.
Adjacent to that is his childhood home, where his brother now resides. The house is old yet still retains a sense of grandeur, predominantly due to Thrain’s champagne tastes.
Avina squirms as they ride closer to the longhouse. She grips Hest’s mane until her knuckles whiten.
When they reach Thrain’s home, his brother appears in the flesh. He stands tall over the crowd with thick, flowing chestnut-colored hair framing his angular face. His brown eyes narrow at Sigvid as he dismounts and helps Avina to the street. Her gaze is surprisingly focused as she intently searches the crowd.
She is going to run. It's a good thing I thought of binding her again.
“My lord!” One of the SaltGothihails him.
