From what they can discern through the angry brush strokes, he appears to be around Thora’s age, with a scrunched expression of discontent that could rival their father's.
After almost a month of lurking around Coldheart Keep, they both suspect that only Calder could have created this ghastly attempt at artwork to represent his late father, Avard. The poor man now bears indents on his nose from Thora’s relentless target practice.
“Yes, yes. Calder is nothing if not meticulous. I haven’t uncovered anything suspicious.” Thora abandons the knife and collapses into an armchair, groaning loudly as her arm flings over her bright green eyes. “I am bored beyond imagining!”
“Apologies, protecting my life is a tedious process.” She snips back.
“Oh, please, spare me the pity, Aura. You are hardly in any danger.” Her hands gesture about as their father often does. “You are not the problem. You are the solution for many to get to the IssDrengr. Otherwise, no one in this sad little town thinks anything of you.”
She leaps to her feet, wincing as the blood flow returns to her legs. “What of the prophecy? Skalor wishes to sacrifice me on an altar!”
Thora drops her arm. “And you don’t think that’s inherently suspicious? You are Sigvid fucking Thordsson’s daughter. Lavinia may hate him, butmyDrengr Army,” she taps at the center of her chest, “Treland’s military might is undefeatable! She would be either the most narcissistic cunt on the continent or the dumbest to incite Uncle Sig’s wrath.”
“So I am just a pawn to people who know better. Is that what you are saying?”
Thora leans back in the chair with a smirk. “If the shoe fits, sister.”
Grumbling, Aura descends the steps toward the kitchen to locate any bottle of alcohol she can seize when she hears her name grunted by Argnier.
“... you cannot pretend she is nothing.”
A resounding grumble suspiciously resembles Calder, and she halts, one toe poised on the next step.
“Can you not recognize what she means to you?” Argnier continues.
Calder’s threatening growl has her debating whether she should continue eavesdropping. His treatment of her may soften with each passing day, but she had no reservations that he could change his feelings about her at any moment.
“You know I don’t sleep much.” Argnier’s tone raises. “I can hear your footsteps pacing outside her door each night. You worry about her. I worry about her!”
“I worry about her because she is the prophecy-”
“Bullshit!” Argnier’s voice drops so low that she can not discern his next few words.
“What do you want me to say?” Calder grunts.
“That she is not some throwaway bedfellow. Not that I think you’ve sank your cock into her yet. But, she deserves your truth.” Argnier hesitates. “Before someone else tells her. You may be the IssDrengr, but I know you possess far more heart than this!” Argnier’s shocking reprimand has her frozen on the steps.
She is about to turn around when she collides with Thora, who has one eyebrow raised and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Thora taps a finger to her lips before crouching on the step above.
Calder’s familiar footsteps thunk against the stone floor below.
“Your loyalty to my nephew’s rigid way of thinking died the moment you uncovered that young woman aboard your ship. Your loyalty is to Aura. To ensure her safety!” Argnier’s words are met with the sound of a plate smashing against the stone floor.
“Get out!” Calder’s tone is not unkind, but both sisters scramble up the steps only to tumble over one another in their haste, flattening on the landing.
“Ladies.” Argnier grins down at their sad attempts to avert their gazes before stepping over them and striding around the corner.
“His loyalty to Father,” Thora’s rare use of Sigvid’s familial title instead of ‘Uncle Sig’ has Aura’s rapt attention, “hangs by a thread thanks to your lingering presence in Calder’s life.”
“What am I to do? How can I fix such a broken connection I had no intention of severing?” Aura frantically whispers.
Heavy footsteps ascending from the kitchen force them to their feet as the Iss Drengr emerges, wiping tension from his brow.
“Good, you are here.” He addresses Aura. “I want you dressed for a long ride in the cold. Pack a sack of food and meet me in the stables. We will be gone for the day.”
Without another word, he sweeps past, leaving the sisters exchanging concerned glances.
Calder and Aura saddle two mares and ride into the thick forest of Kaldrgataness. The icy air slaps at her cheeks, awakening her from the weeks spent locked away in his castle.
