by Bec McMaster
Whispers filled the court. There were far too many dreki in this chamber to fight their way free. The only hope they had was this…. That the king would grant Marduk mercy.
The crowd began to part as someone strode through them.
And then Marduk appeared, clad in a gold coat with a straight collar and a pair of brown leather trousers. Someone had set a thin gold crown of leaves in his tousled hair, and more than one dreki woman glanced toward him as if wondering what he looked like beneath the clothes.
Marduk knelt before the king. “King Harald. The Zini clan thanks you for your warm welcome and long friendship.”
The king’s watchful eyes glinted between thin eyelids. “The Sadu clan offers—”
The main doors to the audience chamber slammed open with a bang.
The audience stirred.
Solveig entered the court, her long raven-dark hair gathered loosely into a thong and a hand resting on the hilt of the sword sheathed at her hip. Every inch of her was clad in black leather that rippled like the hide of a dreki’s coat, and plates gilded in silver guarded her shoulders. A black cloak dripped to the floor, swirling around her ankles like a set of wings.
“That looks like one hundred and fifty pounds of pure arrogance, prepared to smite any and all who stand before her,” Tormund muttered.
Haakon rubbed his stubbled jaw. “This is not going to go well.”
“Dreki politics never do.”
Solveig strode toward Marduk’s side, though she refused to look at him. “Father,” she called.
“Daughter.” Not a hint of emotion crossed the king’s face.
Wouldn’t want to play cards with him, Tormund noted. But there was something about the king’s eyes that made him want to lean forward for a closer look.
The king didn’t look entirely displeased with this situation.
And as Tormund’s gaze returned to the golden prince and the raven-clad woman kneeling before the king, he suffered a moment of premonition.
“Oh. Shit.”
“What?” Haakon’s head whipped toward him.
“No. Nothing.” He didn’t want to say the words out loud here, where most of the court would hear him. But he had a private bet with himself all the same.
“As I was saying, Prince Marduk, the Sadu clan offer warm welcome,” the king called, which earned a slight twitch to Solveig’s mouth. "I hope you have enjoyed the hospitality of my court and my dear daughter Solveig’s greeting.”
Marduk pushed to his feet, looking as though he’d been invited here in good faith, rather than kidnapped. “King Harald, my clan sends its greetings, and your daughter’s welcome was… quite warmer than expected. Our clans have long been friends, and the Zini remember this fact. My brother, King Rurik, will thank you for your hospitality when I return home to him.”
“Return home?” King Harald asked.
Silence fell.
The first flicker of confusion darted through Marduk’s eyes, but he recovered well, as though he couldn’t quite see the trap closing around him. “Y-yes. That was the intention.”
“So you are not here to fulfill the terms of the alliance that was long agreed upon between the Sadu and the Zini?”
“Alliance?” Haakon muttered under his breath. “What alliance?”
Tormund looked from Marduk to Solveig, and then scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “Do you remember that story Marduk told us about the three daughters of Harald and the insult he laid upon Solveig?”
Haakon blinked.
“I think there’s more to the story.”
“Shit,” Haakon swore.
If a dreki could be said to be sweating, Marduk was doing a fine impression of it. "Your Highness, I'm flattered, but—"
“But?” The king looked mildly displeased. “I thought this was why you had arrived in my lands unannounced? You say you are not here to fulfill the contract your mother signed all those years ago? You say that you dared return to my lands after spitting in the face of the Sadu clan?”
Solveig’s smile could have brightened the world.
Tormund glanced around the room for the exits, but there was an entire clan full of dreki between him and the doors.
“When you came here ten years ago, there was talk of an alliance between yourself and one of my daughters.” The king pushed to his feet. “You were careless with your tongue and as such, earned the enmity of my eldest. But I forgave you. I allowed you to walk free, despite the insult to one of my kin. I allowed you to skirt talk of this alliance, for I felt it unwise to pursue such a course in such haste. I have given you ten years. And now you stand here again, and you deny me twice?”
Marduk clearly tried to choose his words carefully, “Ten years ago, I came here at the behest of my mother, though I was unaware she had made terms with your clan until the last moment. Matters being what they were between your… eldest daughter and myself, I thought it best to leave in order to prevent any further conflict between both clans. And now, granted my mother’s death, it is not my intention to deny you again, but I had assumed that the contract was void—"
“The contract was signed.”
“Not. By. Me,” Marduk told him through gritted teeth.
“Yes or no, Prince Marduk?” The king’s eyes narrowed. “Will the Zini clan uphold their original agreement? Or does their queen—and now king’s—word mean nothing?”
Marduk stiffened. “Does my brother inherit my mother’s debts?”
“He does,” the king said coldly. “A dreki throne is never a mere gift. It comes with the burden of all its past liabilities. As does its royal family.”
Marduk wavered. “I would never do anything to destroy my clan’s honor, but—”
"The mating ceremony will take place tomorrow then." Harald waved an expansive hand. "I have three daughters. I am generous enough to offer you a choice. Again. Though this time I would urge you to wield caution in regards to your decision—and your words."
Solveig’s focus snapped sharply to her father.
"That is most kind of you," Marduk choked out.
“You shall receive our hospitality for the night.” King Harald bestowed a smile upon the court. “There shall be wine and dancing and celebration.”
And by the looks of it, no chance for the prospective bridegroom to sneak away.
“Fuck.” Tormund scrubbed at his beard. “This complicates matters.”
“Indeed.” An expression of irritation crossed his cousin’s face. “The gods spit in our faces.”
Tormund clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be back by Árdís’s side soon enough. I promise you.”
They just might have to kidnap a prince again.
And break out of a dreki court.
And finally track down a missing princess.
Somehow.
The herald rapped his staff on the floors again to close the council.
“No mating,” the king said flatly. “No alliance. This will mean a promise broken by the Zini clan, and as such, war. You have until tomorrow to make your decision.” He snapped his fingers. “Guards. If you will escort our guest to his rooms? I think he has much to think upon.”
“What now?” Tormund demanded, as Haakon shut the chamber door behind him.
They’d both retreated to an inn in town to consider their next move. Getting close to Marduk had been impossible, though they’d both seen the frustrated look the dreki prince cast them. Get me out of here, it had said.
“I need to speak to Árdís,” Haakon replied, moving toward the fire in the grate. “This was unexpected and we need to know more about this old treaty King Harald speaks of. Perhaps there is a way for King Rurik to overturn the agreement.”
With the mating bond between Haakon and Árdís, they would be able to communicate on a private level.
But sitting here watching his cousin stare blankly into the fireplace felt a little intrusive, despite the fact he wouldn’t hear a word of what was said.
Tormund
sighed and reached for his cloak. “I shall take a walk then, I think.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to clear my head,” he told his cousin.
And perhaps visit a certain flame-headed Valkyrie.
No matter what he’d said, it wasn’t over between him and Bryn, though perhaps she’d had a point. He had created an ideal of her in his mind, and he’d been intent on pursuing that ideal. He’d been so focused upon that, that he hadn’t taken the chance to learn the real woman—with her guarded heart and scabbed-over scars.
Haakon looked at him sharply. But then he slowly nodded. “Just don’t drop your guard.”
Tormund grabbed his cloak and headed for the door. “One of us has to. And I don’t think it will be her.”
“Tormund—”
He cast his cousin a smile. “Fear not. I know what I’m doing.”
Seventeen
Same tavern. Same chair.
Tormund hauled the chair out beside Bryn with a squeal and sank into it. “I thought you’d be forty miles to the north by now and riding your horse hard.”
“The war marshal owes me a signed confession. And she’s been incredibly difficult to track down today.” Bryn tapped her tankard, and the innkeeper bustled over to fill it. “I thought you’d be flying over the northern seas.”
He gestured for a second tankard. “The war marshal’s been busy. Apparently Marduk was sent here ten years ago to fulfill an alliance between the Zini and the Sadu clans. He was supposed to choose one of King Harald’s daughters to mate with, but he slipped away in the dead of the night never to be seen again. Until now.” The memory stole a smile from him. “King Harald has given him a night to make his choice.”
Bryn’s eyebrows arched. “It appears our kind war marshal failed to mention that.”
“Likewise our dreki prince.”
A somewhat wolfish smile crossed her mouth. “Ah. I wondered why Solveig seemed to bear such a grudge.”
Tormund winced. “Apparently he composed a song about her one night when he was in his cups. It’s played in many a dreki court, I believe.”
“And so now King Harald is going to make him pay.” Bryn smirked into her ale. “Justice seems to wield an iron hammer.”
The conversation stalled, as though they both realized they’d come to the end of any possible discussion about Marduk and Solveig’s affairs.
“It’s a wonder you’re not enjoying the hospitality of the Sadu court tonight, if the mating ceremony will happen on the morrow.”
He met her gaze. “I have some unfulfilled business here in town.”
She set her tankard down, her lashes half obscuring her eyes. “I thought we’d finished it. I did as requested, Tormund. I got you into Harald’s court. I’ve paid my dues.”
“At considerable risk to your agreement with Solveig. Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”
The muscles in her throat shifted as she swallowed. “Solveig gave her word by the goddess. She cannot renege.”
“I think she could find a way if she wished to.” He brushed his knuckles down her spine, enjoying the way she squirmed. “And I’m not talking about dreki and betrayal. I’m talking about us.”
Bryn captured his wrist, heat flashing in her eyes. “There is nothing between us.”
“No?”
He considered her. No longer a legend. No longer Valkyrie. Merely an angry, lonely woman who kept her shields up against the world. And if he was going to ever earn her heart, he would have to not only break through them, but shatter them.
“I want you,” he told her. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes upon you, and I know you feel it too.”
Bryn sucked in a sharp breath. “I already told you—”
“One night. You and I. And then tomorrow we walk away, and we both forget this.” He leaned closer, stroking the inside of her wrist. “There will be no talk of the future. There is no future. Not for us, not tonight. Tonight we kiss. We fuck. And tomorrow, we part with no ill thoughts between us.”
“I can’t help but think you plan on repaying me for the betrayal, and I’ve never been interested in playing the role of victim.” Bryn moved to push away from him, but he set a hand on the bar, and she froze, trapped between him and the bar, their bodies mere inches apart.
“I’m not talking about punishment. Do you really think me such a man? If I had you in my arms—in my bed—then the only thing you would find would be pleasure.” He stepped closer to her, feeling her breath on his lips as she tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “I would never hurt you. I would never lay a hand on you in anger. And I would never give you reason to shed a single tear. I promise you that, no matter what may fall between us.”
A considering look settled in her eyes, but it was the doubt there that slayed him. “No man makes me cry. Not my father. Not even you. I would never let them.”
It was both confession and curse.
The father that had put that doubt in her eyes deserved to be flayed.
He would have to settle for this. One night to earn her trust and prove himself the man she wouldn’t let herself believe in.
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of, Bryn.” Tormund’s thumb settled in the indentation of her bottom lip. She bit him sharply, as if in warning, then paused, her full mouth suckling at the tip of his thumb.
Fuck. His balls tightened, and blood rushed to his groin.
“One night then,” she whispered. “One night for us to forget this madness. And then we’re done. Truly done.”
Dangerous lightning-lashed eyes met his. Bryn tipped the tankard to her lips and drained it, but she never looked away. Slowly, she set the tankard down.
He wanted to give her a wolfish smile, but he was playing for more than merely one night, though she couldn’t know that just yet. “Where’s the key to your room?”
Bryn slowly climbed the stairs to her room, feeling every inch of Tormund’s looming presence behind her. She’d never been so aware of a man. And maybe that was why this already felt like a mistake.
Because she didn’t mix emotions with pleasure.
She didn’t stay longer than one night.
And she never, ever, let herself care.
But in the niggling little hole where her heart had once lain, she could feel regret already building. It was already too late. She liked this rough-voiced giant. In another world, if she wasn’t who she was, she might have even grown to like him a little too much.
“Tormund,” she whispered, pausing in front of her door.
He must have sensed her doubt, for he swept her braid over her shoulder, revealing the expanse of her neck. “Mmmm?”
Bryn shivered as gentle lips brushed against her sensitive skin. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this?”
“No?” The vibration of the word rumbled through her chest, and she felt hands caress down the side of her waist before they slid up over the curve of her abdomen.
They hovered there, just beneath her breasts, and Bryn bit her lip, waiting, desperately, for them to move.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Why not?” The stir of his breath made every inch of her skin prickle. His thumbs teased the soft underside of her breasts. “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do this? You want it. I want it. Don’t tell me you’re afraid to let me touch you?”
He knew why she hesitated.
Her heart beat faster.
“Not afraid, no.”
Touch me. Please.
She couldn’t say the words.
But he’d never taken more than she would give. Cursing herself for a fool, she let her head tilt to the side, a sign of unmistaken surrender.
And his lips found the skin there, teeth raking down the corded muscle in the side of her throat. A moan escaped her. Her hands hit the door in front of her in a desperate attempt to hold firm against his sensual onslaught.
But he paused there, waiting for her, his breath steaming the side of her
throat. “Yes? Or no? Because your body’s saying one thing, but your mouth is saying another. And I already told you…. I’m not that kind of man.”
Bryn rested her forehead against the door, breathing hard. She didn’t know why this was so difficult.
Maybe because you know this means something.
He must have sensed her hesitation, because he withdrew subtly, but she caught at his fingers, until they were barely linked. “Yes. It’s a yes.”
Damn her for a fool, but she half thought it would always be a “yes” when it came to this man.
“Good. Because it’s too late to scare me away, sweetheart.” His groin ground against her ass. “It was too late for that the moment I laid eyes upon you. No regrets.”
“No regrets,” she exhaled on a shivery breath.
His enormous hands slid up her abdomen, unashamedly cupping her breasts. His teeth raked over the back of her neck as he pressed her against the door. A spear of desire went through her nether regions, and a moan escaped her as every hot, hard inch of him pressed against her.
Frigg’s breath, how was she to keep her head against this onslaught?
Those deft fingers pinched her nipple, and Bryn bit her lip. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. And her heart skipped a beat, because she’d never felt so helpless in a man’s embrace. She was the one in charge. She was the one who took what she wanted.
But Tormund gave her no inch, no quarter.
His cock ground against her ass, and then his fingers were sliding over the rounded curve of her abdomen, and delving lower. Stroking the edge of her trousers, until she was breathless with anticipation. His other hand slid up her throat, and the rough burr of his stubble brushed against her ear.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, as his fingertips grazed the soft skin under her waistband. “You’re so soft, so warm” —his fingers tiptoed down— “and you’re wet, aren’t you, Bryn? Wet for me.”
Bryn caught her breath as those fingers edged beneath her trousers.
Then they were tracing her slickness, and it was all she could do not to moan again. To beg. Fuck. Her breath came in jagged rasps. “It’s all for you.”