“Please let me explain. I thought—”
“That the food could be poisoned,” Astrid said. “I know.”
“Then why did you…?”
Why indeed? Astrid thought she’d been in the mood to test Freya’s limits after several weeks of Freya gently terrorizing her with unnecessary precautions. She shouldn’t have done it in public.
She was so, so close to snapping.
“It wasn’t poisoned,” Astrid said. “I have trusted the kitchen staff with my life for fifty-two years, and I won’t stop now.”
“There was someone I didn’t recognize.”
Comprehension dawned on Astrid. She had to stifle another inappropriate bout of laughter. “The head chef’s second daughter,” she said. “They told me she’d be starting this week. She’s old enough to work.”
“Why wasn’t I informed?” Freya asked, her voice tight.
“Must have slipped my mind.” Like so many other things. Astrid felt a fresh wave of embarrassment at what the onlookers at dinner had perceived. She’d been so overwhelmed when Freya leaned over. That citrus smell. She had felt the heat of Freya’s hand through her glove on her wrist, somehow more intimate than if Freya had touched her directly.
Freya swallowed audibly. “My Queen, I know I have been…overstepping lately.”
Overstepping? Astrid wanted to laugh again, to cry. Freya had been overstepping since Astrid met her. She noticed things Astrid would never see and took action where it was needed, whether Astrid wanted her to or not. Astrid needed someone like that in her life.
But she couldn’t tell Freya.
She couldn’t tell Freya, either, that Freya didn’t overstep enough. The truth was, Astrid ached for Freya’s connection. Every time Freya involved herself too far in Astrid’s business, Astrid was overwhelmed with how much Freya cared. How far she was willing to go.
Go farther, Astrid wanted to say.Overstep right into my arms and into my bed.
“Is there a reason for the increased precautions?” Astrid said instead. “Ambassador or not, you were not this concerned at the last history fair. I am in no more danger now than I was then.”
This had bothered Astrid more than cats and rugs—not knowing the inner workings of Freya’s mind.
Freya stood staring straight ahead, chewing her lip like she did when she was being thoughtful. Astrid hated that her heart swelled at the sight of Freya. If anything happened to Freya, Astrid would be beside herself.
The problem was that nothing had to happen to Freya for Astrid to lose her. She just had to live her life fully and die at an impossibly young eighty years old, and Astrid would be left alone for the rest of her long orcish life.
It wasn’t fair.
“I’m afraid of losing you,” Freya said, and Astrid wondered if Freya really could read her mind.
“Of losingme?” Astrid choked.
“I wasn’t raised like you,” Freya said. “I lost everything up there.”
In the north, she meant, during the human wars. The last time they’d spoken of Freya’s past before she’d escaped to Torden had been when she first arrived ten years ago.
“My family,” Freya went on. “My mother and my father and my siblings. Smaller things, too, only a child would be upset by. A soft, hand-woven blanket. A rock with the indentations of a face. Those don’t matter, but I remember them because of how it felt to lose them.” She cleared her throat. “And I lost things you and I cannot see.”
Astrid’s chest was heavy. Condolences came to her tongue, but voicing them would be empty. It was not sympathy Freya searched for now.
“Brenn and I found each other. Helped each other. I kept her close, and we got out of there. Out of the frying pan,” she said dryly, “and into the fire. When we reached orc country, I finally thought—” She clutched a hand to her cheek. “I finally thought we were free. We’d made it out of the north. But then we were on the wrong side of Torden, and Ulfur captured us. I thought it would go on forever.”
“But it didn’t. You made it here to me.”
Surprised, Freya turned to her. Astrid bit down on her tongue, hard. She had not meant to imply Freya had come to Torden to be with Astrid. Back then, Freya hadn’t known who Astrid was.
“I did,” Freya said slowly. “I did make it to you. That’s… I mean to say, the things I value, I hold close to me. Very close. Because I know how terrible it is to lose them.”
