In all their years, it had been their worst fight as sisters, lasting three decades.
They could laugh and joke about it now, but it didn’t stop North from wondering how the Hel a bright, vivacious female like Easta could end up with a mate like Anders. In truth, she felt as though the gods had played a cruel joke on her sister.
She deserved someone to match her gale force personality, not flap in the breeze like a limp blanket.
Then again, Easta would say the same thing about her.
North’s grounded personality deserved someone she could mentally spar with, someone who would not balk at the strength of her roots. But Munin’s head had always been in the clouds. North thought they complemented each other—she grounded him and he made her soar high.
Her heart ached with the pain that had never healed after he disappeared. Though their bond had been new, she was as sure of him as the moon ruled over the night sky. And she missed him with every fibre of her being.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Easta asked, thankfully changing the subject. North didn’t like dwelling on her missing mate for longer than necessary.
She had done everything she could to find him, had searched for him for decades. Even now, there was a travelling band of guards whose sole mission was to find her mate.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” North said, fixing the row of earrings along the outside of her ear.
“The guards have been doubled, and only a small gathering will attend the actual coronation before we make our way into the streets,” Easta explained, though North knew every inch of the plan, since she’d been the one to come up with most of it.
Nothing could go wrong.
“Did the council agree to the extra rations for the people in celebration?”
Easta rolled her eyes. “It was like pulling teeth, but I eventually got them to agree—a double portion of food for the week went out to each person this morning.”
North exhaled a breath of relief.
The end of their suffering was coming. With the Queens of Asgard here and their relationship repaired, she’d be able to make much-needed improvements in Idavoll.
Even as they spoke, caravans of supplies were making their way here from all three realms of the Trifold. The hardships of the eternal winter over the last one hundred and fifty years would see an end.
North placed her hand on one of the tree posts in her room and a vine of Freyja’s daisies, the sacred flower of Idavoll, grew and snaked around her arm. She revelled in the feel of her magic.
Solveig had loosened the binds on her’s and Easta’s magic a few days ago in preparation for the coronation—to Westley’s displeasure. Eachtime she attempted to cast out the binds on someone else’s magic, it took a greater toll on her. She was still currently sleeping off the effects of such a drain.
North was incredibly grateful and grew as many daisies as she could until her limited stores of magic were expended.
She and Easta braided the daisies into crowns like they had when they were younglings, weaving the strands into North’s true crown. Her people would hopefully see the flowers as a sign from the gods, acceptance of their new queen.
A new beginning for their small—but mighty—realm.
Westleywasinthemidst of getting dressed, his pants hanging low on his hips and his white button-up tunic still hanging in the closet when Solveig emerged from the bathing chamber in her gown for North’s coronation. He stopped dead in his tracks as he devoured the sight of her.
“I loathe you.”
It was the only thing he could think to say. She must have known what wearing a dress like that would do to him. By the smile on her face and her downright devious laugh, she’d definitely worn it on purpose.
Her dress was made of spun gold and dark orange fabric, complementing the colouring of her hair. The neckline plunged to her navel and sheer billowing sleeves cinched at her wrists. Two golden ropes twisted around her torso, crossing over the bare skin of her stomach and back.
The dress flowed like water, though it danced like fire. Swaths of fabric gathered at her waist before cascading to the ground. Two slits ran up the front of her legs, showcasing the high heels with straps that wrapped all the way up her calves, mimicking the top of her dress.
“That’s no way to greet your mate,” she said, smiling at his slack-jawed expression.
“Fuck.”
He made it to her in three strides and didn’t hesitate before threading his hands into her hair and slamming his mouth to hers, molding his body against her. He groaned into her mouth.
“That’s more like it,” she whispered, her voice husky. She pulled away so he could see the back, but he didn’t let her go far. He gripped the back of her neck roughly and spun her around so he could kiss her again.
