She'd never been allowed to sit in it before. In fact, her father had hidden it away when she was young after seeing her playing on it once. She swallowed at the sight of it and wondered if things would have turned out differently for her if her mother had survived.
Thadren sat with his hands resting flat on the table, his posture a calculated display of ease. But the moment he spotted her, he smiled, broad and toothy. Not leeringly, but more genuine happiness at seeing her. Maybe life with him wouldn’t be as painful as she thought it might. If he actually held affection for her, she could use that to her advantage.
His muscular frame was packed into ceremonial armor of hammered bronze and dark iron, which creaked when he shifted. His oiled, rust-colored beard had been braided for the occasion, threaded with thin chains. The cracks along his jaw and throat glowed a dull orange, brighter than usual, though his expression remained pleasant.
Elle stood in the doorway awaiting instruction. The familiar smell of men, sweat, meat, and fire made her stomach sour as a trickle of anxiety threaded through her stomach. She wanted to get this over with. The one good thing about leaving with Thadren would be that she wouldn’t be subjected to the foul odor of her father’s house anymore.
After a minute, Thadren stood, and her father’s guard prodded Elle in the back with his sword. Elle rounded on him.
"Do not touch me," she said with enough venom to make Val proud.
The guard's eyes narrowed, but she continued to stare straight at him, daring him to do something. Her magic bubbled and churned inside her, swirling close to the surface, ready for her command, but the man looked away, and Elle turned back to the gathered crowd.
She needed to keep her wits about her. She couldn’t lose it now. If she lost control and her father saw what she could do… who knew what would happen.
What a wedding day. The same men who'd always looked down on her. The same tables, food, and hall. No flower or piece of white cloth adorned the place to show that the day was more special than any other. In the dress Thadren had procured for her, she felt considerably overdressed for her own wedding.
Surtr finally pushed to his feet, and everyone else followed suit. She assumed that was her cue to move. She took a deep breath and strode forward, head up, eyes straight on her father. He studied her with a mixture of anger and surprise.
Good. Let him be surprised. Let him see I won't allow him to treat me the same way anymore.
The one thing being with Thor had done for her was to show her her worth and what she deserved. If she never got anything else from him, she was grateful to him for that. She only wished she'd been able to do something for him in return.
Elle reached the head table, and Thadren walked around it to stand next to her. For the first time, she noted how old her father looked. Deep wrinkles and dozens of scars etched into his face. His bare arms still bore great, bulky muscles, but the deep, ashen skin had begun to lose its elasticity, sagging in places. Even his eyes appeared more sunken in and hooded by puffy eyelids. Only the bright flames of his eyes and beard showed any semblance of youth.
For the first time, she realized why her father was marrying her off to Thadren. Not because Thadren needed her father's armies, but because her father needed Thadren's strength. With no sons of his own, Surtr wanted someone as strong as himself, if not stronger, to replace him someday on the throne of Muspelheim. Someone of his choosing.
In an instant, all the fear Elle held for her father vanished. The realization that she held the power had never occurred to her. As much as Surtr would hate to admit it, he needed Elle. Needed her to be able to broker the deal with Thadren, to prolong his legacy.
Something clicked.
"Great warriors of Muspelheim. We are here tonight to bear witness to the union of Princess Sutrelle, daughter of Surtr, to Prince Thadren, son of Throndel. With this union, the two halves of our kingdom will be united and heal the rift that has split our people for the last thousand years. And when our people are once again all one, united under the banner of House Surtr, with Prince Thadren heir to the throne of all Muspelheim, we will once again set out to conquer what is left of the nine realms."
Cheering and banging arose around the room at Surtr's words. Many of the attendees raised their flagons of ale and gulped them down.
Surtr held up his hand. "It is my honor to welcome Prince Thadren to our castle and to offer him my daughter, Princess Sutrelle, to be his wife, body, mind, and soul."
Thadren bowed to Surtr. "And it is my great honor to take Princess Sutrelle, daughter of Surtr, to be my wife, body, mind, and soul."
Surtr's gaze turned on Sutrelle, hard and expressionless. "Princess Sutrelle, I offer you to Prince Thadren, to be his wife in body, mind, and soul."
It struck Elle how one-sided the marriage vows were. She was being offered up as the sacrificial lamb to Thadren, but he wasn't offering anything to her. The vows alone explained so much.
A moment passed and then another. Surtr's eyes narrowed, and the flames in his beard grew longer and brighter.
"Princess Sutrelle, I offer you to Prince Thadren, to be his wife in body, mind, and soul," he repeated.
Elle lifted her chin. "No."
Surtr's eyes flashed. "There is no ‘no’ allowed, Sutrelle."
"No," she said louder.
A buzz of whispers raced around the crowd.
"You have no say. Sutrelle, daughter of Surtr-”
"No! If you want Thadren to be your heir, adopt him, marry him, I don't care, but I will not be a pawn in your plans any longer."
