Her russet curls flutter against the wind.
“I understand being on the receiving end of your father more than most.”
The tension eases from her shoulders, and she peers at the sky. “You are not his child.”
“Fair. I imagine the pressure is overwhelming.”
“He told Mum he was worried about my ability to rule.” She clenches her teeth as if she struggles to express the next part. “He said my head was stuck in the clouds, that I spent far too much time watching things happen rather than participating,” she wrings her hands together, “and that a ruler who cannot swing an axe is useless. I burned my sketchbooks that night, and the next day, I met Isabel.” She swallows and wipes her eyes.
A warrior, an artist, and compassionate. Where has she been all of my life?
“The Trial was my chance,” she continues, “to prove myself in this family of Drengr. To show that I will be a great Queen someday.” Her eyes squeeze shut. “And then I brought that wretched woman down on all of us. I will never forget Mum’s face–the man who abused her has returned, in a way.”
She finally meets his gaze. “What is my place?”
At my side to save Skalor…no! I cannot allow her to suffer in my kingdom, too.
“Tell me, Jarl Calder, how do I redeem myself? What is my life’s purpose? If not to be a Drengr or a Queen, then what? I am nothing but a failure.” Her words catch in her throat, and she glances away. “I should have fought harder against Isabel! Why was I not strong enough atop that tower? How did I choke?” Her questions rush out more to herself than to him. “And now there’s no turning back. I must forever live with the knowledge that I wasn't good enough in a true fight to the death. The daughter of Sigvid Thordsson cannot defend herself.”
“Princess,” He reaches over and clutches her shoulder, tugging her closer to his side. She tucks into him, looking at him with that beautiful face scrunched in pain.
“If I stay atop this roof forever, do you suppose the prying eyes of Toftlund will forget my failure at the Trial?”
He sighs, aware that nothing he can say will alleviate her defeat. “Failure serves as a guidepost, directing us toward our true purposes. Someone you trusted betrayed you during a critical moment in your life. All of Treland can pass judgment on that, but no one will truly understand. Not when the person who should mean everything to you stabbed you in the back.”
He tightens his grip and rubs her shoulder. “That you awoke after she left you bloody and broken to hunt her down and protect those you love is a far greater act of Queenship than I have seen in twenty winters.”
“Such wisdom, Jarl Calder.” She strains her neck to face him. “This is the second time you've talked me off the ledge.”
“I don't want you to fall, Princess.”
The wind whips her curls around. Without thinking, he catches the flyaways between his fingers before tucking them around her ear. Aura flushes furiously, yet she refuses to look away from him.
The despicable acts I yearn to commit on her perfect body would make more than those cute little cheeks blush.
I must get ahold of myself, or I damn us both.
Her pink lips part, and she tilts her head.
Gods, she tempts me like a sinful desire I could never come back from.
“Aura,” he whispers her name once those luscious lips are a breath away, and the urge to drag his tongue along her softness is so great he fears he will crack.
“Calder,” his name breathes from her mouth into his with a yearning he does not deserve from a woman like her.
“Wait,” she tugs away, “who is that?” She demands.
Begrudgingly, he twists to observe the dirt road where three carriages rattle up the hill from Toftlund toward Blackwood.
He growls, feeling an irrational, heightened fury rush to his head at the sight of someone seeking to interrupt their moment. Calder extends a hand to help her navigate down from the roof. He glances at where he sat to find the tiles covered in a thick layer of frost.
She brings out far too much emotion in me.
Whatever this is must end.
He helps her clamber down from the roof, noting her still pink cheeks and darkened gaze even as they enter Blackwood through the back door. He catches her attempting to fix her curls in her reflection in one of the back-facing windows as if the visitors had interrupted the Jarl and Princess in a state of indecency.
Thankfully, she does not know where his thoughts lie.
