She was pretty. He'd seen her his entire life and knew that she was also an incredibly talented musician. She played the harp with her soul in her fingers.
"You're not going anywhere?" Magnus murmured as they were getting closer and closer to being the last two standing in the clearing.
"No. No one will choose her, and I will remain here."
"You think that's smart?"
Gunnar glared. "You are the second person to ask me that since I thought of it. I am not pushing her, Magnus. That is the only thing that wouldn't be smart."
"Right," Magnus drew the word out for a long time. "Well, you'll be standing here alone then."
With a swagger that Gunnar didn't like, the prince headed toward the line of the interested. He could see almost every single one of the troll women stand up straighter, trying to catch his eye. Even if they were in love already, a prince was still a prince.
One of the trolls was light blue and known for being a particularly good weaver. Her clothing was the finest here. Magnus strolled right by her. He paused beside a rose colored troll with ears nearly as long as his, surely a sign of high elven blood. But then he continued. Down and down the line he went, past men and women and... and...
The bastard wouldn't.
He wouldn't.
But the closer he got to Rose, the more Gunnar started to sweat. His plan seemed to shatter into a million pieces. Magnus wouldn't choose fucking Rose.
Glancing up into the stands, he could see Torbin frantically waving his arms, telling Gunnar to move. To go. Damn it.
Gunnar’s legs were already going. He nearly ran to her side, breathless as he skidded to a halt in front of her before the prince could. "I'm sorry," he said, barely able to get the words out. "I didn't want it to be like this."
And then Magnus was there, reaching for her hand and not allowing her to flinch away from him this time. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it and flashed a jagged tooth grin. "I, however, am not sorry, Rose. I'm just glad you're here."
Twenty-Three
Rose
"More games," Rose hissed up at Magnus, who was looking far too much like a cat that had gotten cream. "Why is life a game to you?"
The prince, with all his arrogance, didn't even flinch at her angry words. "I think this will be fun."
She could feel how tense Gunnar was standing next to her. He didn't say a word. He didn't even look at her, which she could only assume was code that he hadn't wanted to do this, and she felt horrible about it. What if there was another woman he was interested in?
The mere thought made her want to scream. She hated the thought of losing him to another woman. It was why she was here, but also he wasn't hers to keep.
Maybe she was just drawing all of this out. Maybe he was too. They both had to know this was going nowhere. There was no more healing for her, and he certainly deserved a life better than all of this. He'd already given her so much of his time and energy, and she... she...
She was broken. No one deserved to be tied to someone like her.
Rose curved in on herself, slowly lifting her hands and picking at the skin around her nails. She usually did this right before she ducked out into that other realm, but she couldn't do that now. So instead, she just worried at her fingers as the others started chatting. She could hear how excited the other potential brides were, and how the people who were competing for their attentions flexed and showed off. All the while, the two men who had chosen her were silent.
But then a big green hand touched hers. It was a gentle grip, not hard or on her wrist in a way that might have set her off. Instead, he enveloped her fingers with his own. Big and strong and steady as a stone in the center of a river.
She glanced up at him, surprised that he'd touched her so easily. Surprised she wasn't reacting to that touch.
"Stop picking at them," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You'll hurt yourself."
How had he...?
Rose looked down at her fingers that he slowly released, realizing that the skin around her nails was very red. She had been picking at them so much that she would have made herself bleed if she’d continued.
Swallowing hard, she balled her sleeves into fists and nodded. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize. You aren't doing anything wrong."
