The oversized pair of trousers she uncovered somewhere in the keep are rolled up past her ankles, exposing her bare feet. He recognizes the dark tunic, which clings to her arms and stops at her wrists, as one of his own. Judging by the crooked stitching and her exposed shoulder, he wonders if she took a needle and thread to the linen while drunk.
“You are going to scalp yourself. Here, please let me help.” She steps inside with her hand outstretched.
He hesitates, yet still places the blade in her palm. “I have done this myself many times.” The stool creaks under his weight. Even when he is sitting, she is still not as tall as he.
“Then you must have protection from a god not to have sliced your head open. Although I know you don’t believe in their blessings.”
Not after they ignored Lavinia’s antics over the last century.
They can all fuck off.
Through the mirror, he watches as she slices his hair closer to the scalp, still leaving a fingernail’s length amount. Her hands are firm and gentle, swiping off the cut strands onto the floor.
“You must do this weekly to keep it this length.”
“I do.” A slight smile crosses his face as he watches her actions over his head.
“You could allow it to grow into a Salt braid. You are a Drengr,which seems to overshadow the general Salt Warrior culture nowadays.”
He plucks some hair from his shoulder and twirls it between his fingers. “I enjoy the short hair. It feels like me, and I like that I can be different.”
A wide smile curls along her lips.
She is stunning when she finds happiness.
“I appreciate your uniqueness, Jarl Calder.” She places the razor beside the ceramic washbasin adorned with Skalor knots around the lip.
He pulls her onto his lap, savoring how she melds against his chest as if her body was made for him.
She inhales sharply, as this is the first physical interaction he has allowed since the throne.
Aura has a way of shattering his control, overruling his senses.
“I loved the mink picture you drew for me, but with everything that happened, I am sad to say I lost it. I would like it if you could draw another for me.” He traces her jaw with his nose. “I believe a small family of them are not far from here.”
Aura leaps up with a twinkle in her beautiful eyes. “Yes! I've felt so detached from everything lately. I would love to rejuvenate my senses in nature.”
“Let’s take a day off from research.”
Aura beams and his heart nearly burst from his chest. “Truly? Oh, thank you!”
The happiest he has ever felt in his home is following her energy as she collects her sketchbook and a collection of charcoal sticks. They are almost to the back deck when Gunni halts him.
“Trouble in town, boss. It seems Lord Harvart’s brother is taking issue with you killing him and their men.”
A week later?
He glances at Aura, who is excitedly dancing on her toes.
“Tell him to submit a request like everyone else, and we will discuss it at my next open summit.”
Gunni shakes his head. “I did, and I told him to write to youpersonally. He is on a vendetta. The family has always been in Lavinia’s pocket.”
That family is a fucking disgrace.
“Aura,” he pulls her away from Gunni and meets her gaze. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. I need to take care of some things in town.”
And dammit, her shoulders slump, and her bottom lip quivers the slightest amount.
