Calder chuckles, slightly impressed at his audacity.
“My fathers needed to show discipline and sent me to Pradacia to stay in a Gothi temple.”
Gunni raises his brows, his mouth gaping. “That’s harsh. Pradacia worships Gullveig, and her temples are…strict.”
Edmund exhales a cloud of smoke. “Grand Duke Barnaby of the Ridge expects me to learn humility, a sense of decorum, andchastity.”
Calder has known Edmund for a few months since they crossed paths in Pradacia. He can safely say that the experiment to condemn him to a rigid religious center has failed spectacularly.
“Why do you still wear your robes?” Calder asks.
“It’s my turn now. But I will answer with my own: Have you everworn Gothi robes?” His fingers flutter over his robes. “I can carry on my days swaddled in the softest velvet.”
“How in the continent are you the strongest warrior we have ever seen?” Gunni demands, only receiving a toothy smile from Edmund.
“Alright, Iss Drengr, why did you never remarry?”
“Why would I desire to saddle myself against another wench?” He leans back in his seat. “How did you end up fleeing your temple?”
Edmund shifts along the bench, not meeting his gaze. He clears his throat, breaking the silence between them all. “I may have convinced the Head Gothi to arrange an orgy at the great temple to Gullveig and then fled.”
Calder shakes his head in disbelief. “How?” He stops for a moment in thought. “Hold on, are you also running from the Goddess of Order, too?”
He twirls his finger along the edge of his flagon, dark eyes focused on the past. “Yes and no. I didn’t enact the deed, but still led the Head Gothi down a path of unforgivable sin. Who knows,” he chuckles, “perhaps helping the Iss Drengr destroy a Draemonium in Skalor will earn me bonus points?”
“Of all the Goddesses, Gullveig is least likely to show benevolence even on a good day.”
Edmund pales, and he pushes his plate further away.
“As I live and breathe.” Standing behind Gunni’s shoulder is Jarl Guy, a tall, lean man with chiseled features and a perfectly sculpted beard the shade of rich brown, quite unlike the salt streaking in Calder’s hair and beard.
“Jarl Avardsson emerged from terrorizing his people in the ice caves of Kaldrgataness and brought a fellow Salt warrior? And, my word, is that a Gothi? Did no one else fancy to escort their Jarl? Perhaps they all hoped you would perish on the journey.”
Calder sips his mead, sighing deeply into his flagon. “Gunni, Edmund, meet Jarl Guy of the Crescent Hold.” He sets his cup down. “What can I say to remove you from my sight?”
“Since you are here and cannot avoid my messengers, I hoped to discuss a more direct trade route. As you know, King Sigvid ofTreland has been chomping at the bit to connect with new trade partners.” He adds with a puff of his chest.
“Let me guess. You want me to cut a route through my land, clearing the way for you and then providing my warriors as protection for your goods.”
“Your words, not mine.” His smile widens.
“We have not been properly introduced.” Edmund swings his legs over the bench and stands. He extends a firm hand to Guy, who gapes as if he’s never seen someone quite like Edmund. “Lord Edmund Slodesson-Alexandrite of Treland. Yes,theAlexandrite that makes me blood-related to Queen Avina Redwood.” His lips twist into a dazzling smile. “She and Uncle Sig entertain us in Blackwood once a month. I would hate to report any bad blood among the good Jarls of Skalor. We would hate to trade if there’s a threat of discord.”
Guy shakes his head, clearly flustered by the turn of events. “Of course not, your lordship. I am only seeking an alliance with my fellow Jarl and the great King Sigvid.”
Edmund releases Guy’s hand, which Calder notes is quivering.
“And this good man is another Drengr of Uncle Sig,” he pats Gunni’s shoulder with a sneer, “just as you know, Jarl Calder pledged the oath. You see, Jarl Guy, we owe our allegiance to Skalor as much as we do the prospering country of Treland.”
Calder stands, dwarfing them both. “Thank you, Jarl Guy. I will discuss this with my council.”
Guy smiles uncomfortably before scurrying off to his large contingent of around two dozen soldiers.
“I see you are useful.” Calder refills Edmund’s mug.
“Cheers!” Edmund lifts his mug, and the three clink theirs together in mock celebration.
Entering the hall is a tall, willowy woman with wild red hair and an impressive stature. Calder excuses himself to greet the newcomer with a rare smile.
