Calder smirks at her innocent admission. “The decision to journey into the marketplace occurred in the forest because of my needs. When would you pick up her dress if we didn’t come today?”
Despite the shouts, the rattling of wagon wheels, and other street noises, he can still hear the faint increase of her precious heart rate as he steps closer.
“Forgive me. I have been busy providing a tour of Toftlund to a Jarl of Skalor.” She smirks.
“I enjoy having apersonalguide to Toftlund.” He hungrily admires her curves with his gaze.
As precious as she is, I still want to bind her arms behind her back and pound her until she cries my name.
“Jarl Avardsson!” She glances around as if he should care about how unhinged she drives him. “We can continue the tour after the market.” She winks.
How cute. She believes she can choose to spend time with me.
She clutches the new leather notebook to her chest like a cherished possession and joyfully bounces along the street.
Under any other circumstance, he would have dragged her back. However, the street has minimal traffic, the seamstress is only four shops away, and, more importantly, the only tanner he trusts besides himself may still hold animosity after all these winters. Moreover, he is not yet prepared to introduce Aura to the evils of his world.
“Aura!” He calls out. “Youwillwait outside the tannery once you have Queen Avina’s dress.”
The wicked smirk she gives him over her shoulder has him itching to chase her down and mark that pretty little neck with his mouth. He begrudgingly enters the tannery only when she vanishes into the seamstress shop.
Calder glances around the space. “Hello?” he grunts.
A wizened man shuffles through a back door. “All orders are placed on Mondays and Wednesdays…” He drops the rag in his hands as recognition flares in his features. “By the gods!” His slumped back straightens. “What are you doing here?”
“I am here for the Conclave, Balli. King Sigvid invited Skalor.” He crosses his arms, leaning against a support beam.
Balli turns away through the back door and orders his apprentices to leave them alone. When he returns, there is sadness in his gaze. “Perhaps I should alter my opinion of His Highness for trusting in you.”
“Say what you mean, Balli.” He dislikes how much he sounds likeSigvid, but this suspicion will linger far longer than needed if he allows it.
“Did you have the reunion with that despicable mother you always wanted?” Balli shuffles across the floor until his nose hits halfway up his chest. “After everything Avard sacrificed to raise you in Treland, how dare you abandon his dream!” If the older man could spout fumes, he would fill the room with smoke. “And now, you stride back here twice the size in every direction.” Moisture brims in his eyes.
Avard is Calder’s greatest regret.
His father had such high hopes for his only child, only for him to throw them away and return to Lavinia.
What would he say now?
Calder drags two chairs across the floor. “Sit, Balli.” He gestures to one as he flops into the other. “You must understand I never wanted to set foot in Skalor again. After the Draemonium surfaced in the War for Treland, Sigvid asked that I collect information in my homeland.” He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “And that’s where everything went to shit.”
He briefly recounts the arduous twenty winters since leaving Treland after the war, struggling to meet Balli’s horrified gaze. He overshares about the time he was under Lavinia’s manipulation.
This conversation is precisely why I did not wish the Princess to accompany me.
One day, she will know the truth. And gods willing, he will be long gone.
I would rather never look upon her again than face the agony of her condemnation.
Balli sniffles through the story. “Why would you not listen to me? Why did you not remain in your home?” His questions are rhetorical, regardless of how deeply they sting.
“My path is in Skalor now. I defeated the Draemonium threat, and now it is my fate to end Lavinia’s reign.”
Balli stands, shaking his head. “Your powers may be abnormal, but you cannot kill a god.”
“He was a demon.” Calder growls.
Balli waves his hand dismissively as he shuffles to a cabinet and pours two beaten mugs from a dusty bottle. “I don’t know about the existence of the gods, Calder.” He hands him a mug of the most potent mead he has ever smelled. “I’ll bow to them, along with my King and Queen, but what good is it to live in dread of their wrath? Do you hear me?” He settles back into his seat with a creak of his joints. “What I do know is that mortal hands cannot kill them, no matter how powerful.”
