“I’ll try your cake,” he murmured, gazing down at me, “if it’ll keep you smiling like that all night.”
I reached to my side, patted the blanket, and curled my fingers around a fluffy cake. Then I held it in front of his lips so he couldn’t back out of his promise.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll…”
“Yes?” He arched a brow.
“Do whatever you want in the bedroom,” I said with a grin.
“Hmm. You’re not making a good case for the cake. I already dislike it. Very, very much. And I am determined to continue to do so if that means I can hear you scream my name in pleasure.”
“Good point,” I admitted. “How about you just try it and tell me what you think?”
He sank his teeth into the green cake. I held my breath, waiting for a reaction, but none came. Tormund chewed itslowly, cocking his head as if considering the flavor. Impatiently, I tapped my fingers against the blanket, wondering what was taking him so long. The immediate hit of beet sugar should have been enough to get him reaching for another one.
Eventually, he stopped chewing. And yet he remained mum.
“Well?” I asked. “Do you like it?”
“Do I like what?” He grinned wickedly.
I swatted his arm. “Do you like the bloomin’ moss cake?”
“It’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever eaten,” he said.
I sighed. “All right. Well, I suppose you had to haveoneflaw.”
“It’s strange because it looks absolutely disgusting, but it might just be the best cake I’ve ever had.”
I sat up straight, my jingling bells going wild. “You liked it!”
He laughed. “I suppose I did.”
Giggling, I laid back down on the blanket and watched the ember colors flare to gold. “This is one of the best days ever.”
“You don’t think it could get any better?” Tormund asked.
“Right now, I can’t see how.”
“Then I suppose you wouldn’t want to share this chocolate bar…” He leaned down with a square of chocolate pinched between his teeth. And when he brushed it across my lips, I took it eagerly, just as the wings of dragons flared across a golden sky.
Epilogue
ASTRID
ONE YEAR LATER
Ichalked my hands and leapt for the rungs. The Endless Chasm yawned beneath me, threatening to swallow me whole. But I barely gave it a second glance as I swung one hand in front of the other, quickly crossing the obstacle to the next ledge.
The crowd went wild.
Jostein had rearranged the order of the trials this year, just to shake things up. And this was the last one for the entire competition. If I won it, I won the whole thing. If I didn’t, Knut would take the crown. And he was only a few rungs behind me.
Sweat coated the back of my neck, and my muscles screamed for a break. I wiped my face with a square of fabric I’d tucked in my waistband and scanned the obstacle ahead. I’d crossed the chasm. The only thing I had to do now was jump to the next rung, pull myself up and over, then climb the rope to the watchtower.
Only.
This next move—pulling myself up and over the next rung—required a great deal of strength and skill. I’d spent the entire year training for it. And while I’d managed the feat a few times, I often failed. One wrong move, and I’d fall. Luckily, I’d only tumble right back onto this platform, but I couldn’t win Fittest Under the Mountain without reaching that watchtower. Knut was definitely capable of it.
