Page 23 of The Magic of Vanaheim
A shiver ran down Håkon’s spine. TheVanrseemed so unconcerned about marrying Håkon as if he was, in fact, looking forward to it. How could he be so unworried that Håkon wouldn’t attack him? He didn’t even bother with guards. It was the same cocky attitude the boy had shown as he defended the citadel all those years ago. Most other leaders would’ve hidden inside the fortress and exposed the lower town for the raid. But not this man who’d stopped a dangerous attack with hisseiðrand courage alone. Håkon couldn’t help but admire that. Few rulers would have been as successful if they traded places, and certainly not at the age of just twenty-two winters.
Wait a minute—
“You aren’t Prince Rune,” Håkon growled, now surer about it than ever. He’d seen the young crown prince of theVanirafter all, although many winters ago, a man more around Håkon’s own age, maybe a little younger, but certainly not as young as twenty-two.
The boy smirked at him, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not only beautiful, but also clever, I see.”
A fluttering feeling bloomed in Håkon’s belly, not unlike the one he usually felt before riding into battle. Weird.
“So, are you going to tell me who you are, or do I have to marry you without even knowing your name?”
“We wouldn’t want that, right?” Chuckling, the boy gave his hand a squeeze. The touch evoked a pleasant, tingling feeling Håkon couldn’t quite place. Maybe he was being enchanted. “My name is Talvi.”
Talvi. Yes, that’s what Frekegar called him. But where had he heard that before? Pleased to be given a name so freely, Håkondidn’t get the impression that he was being lied to. But, at the same time, he couldn’t make sense of the boy’s actions.
“So now that you know my name, are you ready to be married?”
“Oh, inHel’sname! Stop asking and let’s be done with this blasted ceremony already.”
“As you wish,” Talvi chuckled. Holding on to Håkon’s hand, he guided him toward the doors and down a corridor. Being led through a maze of hallways, battlements, and courtyards, Håkon did his best to memorize their path, but he knew his attempt would be futile. The citadel was a labyrinth, and even in the unlikely event that he managed to escape his captors for a moment, his chances of finding his way down to the harbor town were slim.
They set off in silence, both apparently lost in thought, when Håkon suddenly remembered why the name sounded so familiar.
“Talvi as in Talvinen! You are the youngest son of Queen Vellamo,” he spluttered out, stumbling to a surprised halt.
He hadn’t heard the name in years, and he was pretty sure Bergelmir considered him dead, but it explained everything. Of course, theVanirwould supporthim.
Turning to face Håkon, the young man leveled him with an unreadable look. His hand came up as if he wanted to touch Håkon’s hair again, but pulled back at the last second as if thinking better of it.
“Does that surprise you? You expected to see my brother, right?”
“No.” Håkon shouldn’t answer him. He shouldn’t make the same mistake Talvinen was making by giving him any information about what theJötnardid and didn’t know about their enemy. And Talvinen could afford to let him in on somesecrets, because as soon as the wedding was consummated, Håkon would be killed anyway.
Biting his bottom lip, Håkon tried to keep his mouth shut, but talking to Talvinen was just too intriguing and he couldn’t help but hope that he’d find a way to survive this mess despite all odds.
“I thought you’d be an imposter who’d managed to ascend the throne,” Håkon finally said.
“Ah, someone who posed as my brother but wasn’t.”
“Something like that,” Håkon admitted reluctantly. “Who says you are, in fact, Prince Talvinen? You could be anyone.”
The boy laughed. Leaning in close, his lips almost touched Håkon’s.
“I could be. But I’m a real prince, after all.”
It was stupid to believe a word coming out of his mouth, but Håkon found it hard to distrust him.
“We’ll see,” he mumbled, feeling like Talvinen’s closeness might overwhelm his senses. He was wrapped in a scent that reminded Håkon of sunlit forests high on the cliffs above the ocean. Spruce and honey and the fresh salty air of the sea. Håkon wondered if his lips would taste the same, if they would feel as soft as they looked and—
Pulling back, Håkon blinked rapidly to break the strange stupor he’d found himself in. What inHel’sname had that been?
“Are you well?” Talvinen watched him with a worried frown. He seemed so genuinely concerned that Håkon almost asked about Gudrun. He needed to know if she was still alive; he wanted to beg Talvinen to let her go. But if he gave away that he cared about her, he could endanger her more than help her. So Håkon kept his mouth shut.
“Yes,” he lied instead. “I’m fine.”
He tucked at Talvinen’s hand, suddenly eager to get moving again. If he dwelled too long on Gudrun’s fate, he might losehis nerve and ask about her. So, he allowed the prince regent to lead him further into the heart of the castle until they stepped through an archway into a beautiful hidden garden.
Håkon had expected to be married in front of a roaring crowd, maybe in Saeborg’s Great Hall or even in the marketplace. He’d expected to be treated as a spectacle, to be taunted and laughed at by theVanir. Instead, the handfasting ritual was held in a secret garden, hidden in the heart of the castle. The place was beautiful in its tranquility.