Page 20 of The Magic of Vanaheim

“And?”

“And a bastard son doesn’t become king,” Håkon said, reciting the words as if he’d been told them a million times.

Talvi scoffed. “Barbaric.”

“Says the man who wants to—to marry another man!” Sounding adorably scandalized about the prospect, Håkon averted his gaze.

“Hmm, you think so? What’s the difference, anyway? You don’t know me. If I were a horrible ruler, would it be any better if I were a woman?”

“No, but—”

“But it would still be better if I married your sister?”

“No!” Håkon snarled, looking a little feral. “You’ll never have my sister.”

Oh!Talvi hadn’t even known that the two of them were close. The fact Håkon cared about Princess Anya’s fate enough to want to spare her from an unhappy marriage was unexpectedly sweet.

“So, how do you think this contract of marriage between our people is going to be fulfilled?” Talvi taunted, intrigued by Håkon’s reaction. He was desperate for more information.

What little color was left drained from Håkon’s face.

“You’re insisting on this marriage? Are you mad?”

“Do I expect Bergelmir to stop his attempts to plant his bony ass on my throne because of this marriage? Of course not. But his greed will be his undoing, and if I marry one of his children,I’ll have as much of a claim to the Frostland Throne as Bergelmir has to the rule over Vanaheim.”

Håkon shuddered. “Youaremad.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

Gnawing at his bottom lip, Håkon leveled him with an appraising stare. Gods, he was pretty.

“Very well,” Håkon finally said.

“Huh?”

“You were promised a marriage and a marriage you’ll get. TheJötnararen’t dishonorable. But don’t expect me not to kill you at the first opportunity,” he said, lifting his chin.

Talvi wasn’t prepared for Håkon’s stubborn bravery, but he was more than willing to take what he could get. Grinning, he tucked a strand of hair back behind theJotunn’sear. It felt incredibly soft, and Talvi was delighted by the muffled gasp that his gesture elicited from Håkon. Pulling away reluctantly, he mended the ripped fabric on Håkon’s collar with a lazy wave of his hand.

“You can certainly try,” Talvi whispered, his mouth close enough to Håkon’s that theJotunncould feel Talvi’s breath on his lips. Håkon shuddered, delighting Talvi.

So maybe Arngrim had a point when he called Talvi unhinged at times, but what was he to do?

Despite Håkon’s threats, Talvi took him back to the royal chambers. Regardless of what anyone else was thinking, he’d never keep his soon-to-be husband locked up and in chains. He wanted to see Håkon happy.

Perhonen was waiting for them, calmly arranging the maps on the table.

“Welcome to the citadel, Prince Håkon,” she greeted, even going so far as to offer him a swift bow.

At least Perhonen’s welcome was just as lacking in eloquence as his own had been, Talvi noted with some satisfaction.

“Thank you, seeress,” Håkon answered her politely, but he stepped a little closer to Talvi, his posture tense.

He could understand Håkon’s unease. Aside from being one of the most fearedvalain the Nine Worlds, Perhonen was also an intimidating sight. Towering almost seven feet, she was bald and willowy. Her skin, lashes, and eyes were of a snowy white, absolutely pale and colorless; she instilled fear in all of her enemies. But in reality, she was one of the kindest people Talvi knew. And maybe it wasn’t fair of him to revel in Håkon’s discomfort, but Talvi couldn’t help but savor the fact that his betrothed had seemed to unconsciously seek his closeness.

“Shall I arrange everything for the ceremony?” Perhonen asked.

“I’d appreciate that.”