“I never stopped wanting you, either,” she murmured, once he’d turned to look at her. “I would be honoured, to have another son with you.”
And yes, Kalfr liked that, his body straightening, his breath exhaling, his lashes fluttering low. And in a swift, graceful movement, he bent down, and brushed a soft, furtive kiss to her mouth. Kissing her. Kalfr was kissing her, again, of his own will. Wanting her.
He drew back just as quickly, and spun around and strode out the door, shutting it tightly behind him. But Raye was smiling after him, broad and a bit giddy, because — fuck, yes. He’d kissed her. He’d called her brave, lusty,stunning. He hadn’t wanted anyone else. They were meeting each other, trusting each other.
She was still smiling as she drew on another lacy chemise, followed by another lovely, flattering dress. And though she briefly lamented the lack of Gaelfr’s braiding, she carded through her tangled hair as quickly as she could, and threw in abraid of her own before heading upstairs, taking the stone steps two at a time. The goddess had blessed them. They could do this.
Until she stepped upstairs, and found — chaos. Orcs all bustling about and speaking at once, and amidst them was a new human man — the tall, handsome Aulis Gerrard, next to his bulky mate Olarr. And Raye caught sight of their two children shouting as they raced beyond the nearest window, with Svein dashing along behind them.
It should have all been welcome, especially with the cheerful morning sunlight beaming through the windows, and the succulent scent of Grum’s ham and mushrooms wafting through the air. But Raye’s gaze snapped to Kalfr and Gaelfr, both standing in the midst of the orcs — Kalfr with a pained expression on his haggard face, Gaelfr looking downright thunderous.
“No,” Gaelfr snarled. “We refuse. I will not grant that foul witch the right to even look upon myástvinur’s face!”
Raye’s breath choked, because there was only one person Gaelfr could be talking about. And when she shoved forward through the orcs, and clasped Gaelfr’s hand, he squeezed back with surprising strength, and flailed his other hand at the… letter. The letter Kalfr was holding, covered over with a looping, elegant script, and — Raye’s nose wrinkled — a sweet, flowery scent. Perfume.
It was — from Sybil?
“What does it say?” Raye asked, and her voice cut through the chatter, striking it to sudden, ringing silence around them. “What does she want?”
Kalfr’s eyes closed, while beside Raye, Gaelfr’s growled, low and menacing. Which left Aulis to clear his throat, giving Raye a wincing, apologetic smile. “Well, you know the offers and negotiations the mountain’s been sending to Sybil, trying to stopher march here?” he said. “We were delivered this new counter-offer yesterday. And it’s…”
He winced again, and cast a wary look down at the letter — which, Raye now saw, was actually two letters. The first page was the looping script, and the second was… something else. Something Raye could only see a piece of, but it looked like… like a drawing of some sort. Like…
Raye snatched the paper away from Kalfr with trembling fingers, and held it out before them. And for an instant, her whirling thoughts couldn’t follow what she saw, because it was —
It was a woman. It was Sybil.
And she was…naked.
50
Raye stared at the drawing for another jolting moment, while a distant thunder rose in her ears.
Sybil had sent a portrait of herself. A naked portrait of herself. To Kalfr. ToRaye’sKalfr.
“What,” she said, “thefuckis this.”
Her other hand kept desperately gripping Gaelfr’s, and her eyes swept over every detail of the portrait. It was drawn in a far different style than the one Gaelfr had been sent — the portrait drawn by Daisy, the artist from the mountain — and despite the strategic placements of Sybil’s arms over several crucial areas, it was clearly intended to showcase her appeal, her seductiveness, her beauty.
And, Raye could admit, Sybil was beautiful. With her long, silken dark hair, her slim but still voluptuous body, her large, long-lashed, come-hither eyes. All of it offering a clear invitation to the viewer, and saying…
“Is this supposed to be an offer, then?” Raye demanded toward Kalfr, as the portrait began violently shaking in her hand. “Instead of attacking you and killing you, now she wants to — to —”
Kalfr rubbed at his eyes, and shook his head. “It is all more of the same,” he replied, without inflection. “I am sure she yet aims for my death. This is only another means to taunt and provoke me, and gain this.”
His hand crumpled the letter he was still holding, and Raye dropped the portrait, and snatched for the letter instead. While Gaelfr’s fingers clamped tighter against her other hand, and when Raye darted a look toward him, she remembered — right. He still couldn’t read common-tongue. Maybe he still didn’t even know what the letter said.
So she cleared her throat, and began reading it out loud. “My dearest Kalfr. I remain beset by offers of conciliation which I can only presume are at your behest. However, if you truly want me to reconsider my regiment’s march toward you, you will prove yourself the brave warrior I thought you to be, and come and meet me face to face. You will offer your humblest apologies for your grave sins toward me. You will voluntarily submit to my custody and service. And if you show yourself worthy of my clemency, I may even consider granting you what we both know you still desire from me. With affection, Sybil.”
By the end of it, Raye was spitting out every word, and she fought the urge to tear up the letter, or hurl it across the room. And beside her, Gaelfr had begun growling again, his low rumble a strangely soothing steadiness in her otherwise shrieking thoughts.
“No,” Gaelfr hissed. “You will not, Kalfr. We will not.Never.”
But Kalfr didn’t look like he’d even heard Gaelfr speaking, and his blank eyes flicked toward the window. Toward…Svein. As if he was truly considering this, for Svein, and he couldn’t, he couldn’t —
“Ach, but this woman is fetching, is she not?” cut in a voice — Skirvir’s voice — and when Raye glared toward him, she foundhim now holding the portrait she’d dropped, and eyeing it with obvious appreciation. “And she bears a sweet scent beneath this rank reek of perfume. Could you not send one of us to meet her in your place?”
Gaelfr’s growl burned louder, while across from Skirvir, Fengr swiped for the portrait, snapped it into a ball, and hurled it with surprising accuracy into the nearby crackling fire. “Ach, Skirvir, this woman is sure to take one look at you, and choose you overhim,” he drawled, jerking his head toward Kalfr. “Also, did you not meet her, nor scent her, whilst she was at the mountain? Kalfr is right. This is just the kind of ploy she would pursue, if she wanted to draw him out, and then take her good time cutting him to ribbons.”
