She trudges through the freshly fallen snow among the evergreens near the Keep. Her neck cranes to observe the powdery peaks of the Vill Mountain range encircling the Hold like a natural wall–a stunning scene!
And one that reminds her far too much of the dramatic fjords of her homeland.
“Have the others finally sent you in an attempt to move me along?” He hollers from the stone patio.
With a wide smirk, she trudges across the footbridge that spans a stream carving through the landscape. “They should be more considerate of your old age.”
He rubs his ear. “Did you call me old?”
“Yes,” she bellows, her voice carrying across the treetops. “Old!”Aura joins him on the stone landing attached to the castle. She places her hands on her hips, tilting her head.
He seizes the front of her tunic, pulling her against his chest, evoking a shriek from her as his teeth draw her skin into his mouth. She whimpers as his hand tangles painfully in her hair. “We have time before the meal is ready.” His large hand grips the apex between her legs. “I should use this time wisely.”
“I would rather you not burn the meat.” She tugs her wool cloak against her. “I understand ‘swift’ is not in the vocabulary of the elderly.”
His corded arms cage her against the stone wall of the Keep. “I’ll keep that in mind as I devour you, Princess.” He growls her title in a tone that pierces straight to her core.
Is this the moment he lets go and succumbs to the flame of desire, uniting our hearts?
Except he doesn’t.
Instead, Calder releases his touch and resumes tending to the stove.
“The roast is nearly done.” The smug glance out of the corner of his eye has her glowering in response. “What were we doing?” He scratches his chin with a twisted grin that has her fuming. “Sorry about that,” he offers with a shrug. “When you reach my age, your memory just isn't what it used to be.”
“I shall remember this!” She stomps back inside to his boisterous laughter.
Edmund, Thora, and Gunni rush her, and a collective sense of disappointment washes over the group when they realize she is not Calder bearing the meat.
“He says it is nearly ready,” Aura mutters.
“I will consume him if he does not make haste!” Edmund grumbles.
“Come here,” Thora waves Aura to her side, snaking her arm around her shoulder. “Did you offer to please him?”
“Sissy!”
Does she really wish to have thisconversation?
“Did you get on your knees and shove that man’s cock down your throat as deep as you can? Because if not, you are not working hard enough for this meal.”
Aura tosses her curls out of her beet-red face. “I offered my whole body.”
Her sister shakes her head. “I don’t know. That’s probably not good enough.”
Gunni, who is loitering nearby, chortles at their sibling snipping.
Calder spares her further humiliation when he enters carrying the reindeer on a platter, a quarter the size of the table they would eat at.
To say they gorged themselves is an understatement. Despite the unsavory taste and smell of the pickled fish Gunni brought, no food is left when they all recline in their seats. A fire crackles in the hearth of the high-ceilinged dining hall while they sip on tiny glasses of a pungent, clear alcohol. According to Gunni, it is an old Skalor tradition that follows a hearty meal.
“For the grand finale.” Edmund pulls an ancient tome from a pocket of his robes. The book thuds on the table's edge. “Suspenseful silence.” He steeples his fingers.
“I plan to track down Makt’s weapon. If Edmund’s Gothi texts are accurate, the gods are vulnerable to their own Astrian steel.” Calder interrupts with a grunt from Edmund at the opposite end.
The Iss Drengr drapes his arm around the back of his own chair.
Edmund’s jaw drops, and he slaps his chest in faux surprise. “Have you no sense of style, Jarl Calder?”
