Page 56

Tessa smiled to herself, and said, “Was there something you wanted to discuss…Uncle?” That would take some getting used to, but it felt nice.

His head snapped up, as though she’d startled him. Then he nodded, set his wine aside on the table to his left, and folded his hands together over his stomach. His head took a decidedly paternal angle. “Ollie tells me you want to come with us on campaign.”

Tessa took a deep breath, but slowly, in hopes he wouldn’t see the flare of her nostrils or the heave of her chest.Firm. What would Revna say? She attempted to channel her. “Well. I’vedecidedto come. Iwillcome.” Her pulse picked up; she wasn’t used to speaking this boldly – to a king no less. But she didn’t want to show so much as a shred of doubt. He might want to be calledUncle, now, but she knew he would exploit anything he saw as a weakness in this instance. “I’ve already packed.” She gestured to the trunk over by the wall, ready to be toted down and loaded onto one of the baggage sleighs. “My armor and harness are waiting in the barn with the drakes.”

He drew in a deep breath of his own, though not subtle about it. His wide chest lifted, and the exhale rushed audibly from flared nostrils, after. His gaze shifted to the trunk, and back. “I’m sure Rune has–”

“I haven’t told Rune yet. I will tonight, when he comes in.”

That earned a lift of his brows. “It’s quite soon in your marriage to be keeping secrets from one another, don’t you think?”

Tessa wanted to frown, but schooled her features. He wasn’t being fair: was clearly going to try to manipulate her, prey on her guilt and obligations, use word games as opposed to direct orders. She wouldn’t allow him to see that it bothered her, and she wouldn’t back down. “I wanted to ensure that I could be properly prepared to depart before I worried him with the decision. I commissioned the armor special, as well as a blade, and a saddle and harness for Alfie. Now, I’m ready, and I’m going to tell Rune tonight, as I’ve said.”

“When he won’t have weeks to wheedle and beg you to change your mind.”

She did let her frown show this time. “Rune doesn’twheedleandbeg. We don’t have that sort of relationship.”

She’d spoken more harshly even than intended, and Erik’s chin lifted a fraction, his gaze going assessing, eyes half-lidded and hard to read.

“If you’ve need of two drakes,” she said, “then three are even better. Percy and Valgrind have riders, and so does Alfie. I don’t have wishes to ride in the melee, nor am I so foolish to think that I might escape unscathed from another hand-to-hand encounter with a Selesee warrior. But I can fly, and my drake can fight, and so you need me, you see. And I’m going.”

“You’re going,” Erik echoed.

“Yes.”

“I could refuse to allow you, you know,” he said, and her stomach tightened unpleasantly. “I could order guards to your door, and tell them to bar your way no matter how much you protested.”

She met his stare, and didn’t speak, her jaw set. She would not bend. She would not beg, as he’d supposedly expected his nephew to do – a misjudgment of character that left her faintly sick. How could he think so little of Rune? Of their marriage, for that matter?

Erik held her gaze a long, tense moment – and then he heaved a deep sigh, turned away, and picked up his wine again. Took a long swallow and shook his head. “Gods,” he said, on another sigh. “You Drakes will be the death of me.” His gaze returned, accusatory. “I thought you were sweet when you first came. Timid.”

“I’m sorry you underestimated me, Your Majesty.”

Slowly, a grin graced his lips. His eyes crinkled, spark of amusement in their blue depths. “Originally, I thought you and Oliver were very different. But I’ve begun to see that you aren’t so different at all. Is it the red hair? Or the Drake lineage?”

She felt the tug of her own smile. “A bit of both, I suspect.”

His grin widened, and when he took his next sip of wine, she took one of her own, a new lightness swelling in her chest. She’d misjudged him, too, all along the way, even now.

He lowered his cup, and fixed her with the warm-but-stern, serious-but-loving, very uncle-like look she’d hoped for to begin. “I won’t lie and pretend we don’t need all three drakes, because we do. Things are…”

Náli’s grave news from the North, murmurings of an Immortal Emperor looking for Oliver, wanting him for reasons none of them understood.

“…not ideal,” he finished. “Each time we talk of the war, it seems to grow more dangerous. And with Leif…” His gaze turned reflective a moment, anguished. Then he shook his head. “Suffice to say, we need every asset on this march, the drakes most especially. I’m not opposed to women serving the war effort – this is the North, after all, our women are warriors, just as much as their menfolk.

“But – forgive me – you’re very young. And you’ve just married my nephew, and he’s wild about you. And if anything should happen to you…”

She nodded, but said, “Anything could happen to any of us. What should I do if Rune…?” She couldn’t make herself say it, she found. “Or if Oliver should…”

Pain flashed in his eyes, powerful and palpable.

“I know it’s dangerous.”

“And I know you must go, though I wish you didn’t need to.” He gazed thoughtfully into the fire, wide shoulders lifting on a deep inhale. “I want to make you promise to be careful, but that feels so futile. It…so much of it…feels futile.”

She couldn’t see him head-on, only in profile, now, the way his head was turned, but that was all she needed to glimpse his haunted expression. His typical sternness concealed the sort of burden that would have buckled other men’s knees.

Tessa knew a sudden, fierce urge to embrace him, to try and hold him up with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, and the promise that he was loved, and that everyone knew he was doing his best.