Page 53 of The Magic of Vanaheim

“Are you telling me you’d choose me over Erling the Great?”

Why did Talvinen have to derail any civil conversation, steering it into dangerous territory, ridiculously charged with emotion?

“Always,” Talvinen said. Without hesitation. Without a trace of sarcasm.

Håkon was doomed.

The forest was filled with birdsong and the bustling of wild bees, everything around them vibrant and alive. It reminded Håkon of the short summers in Jotunheim when everything exploded with color and life for a few short weeks, only increased tenfold. It was breathtaking.

Their retinue had settled down at the farmstead at the forest’s edge, and Talvinen led him over a narrow game trail into the wilderness beyond to visit the ancient gravesites as promised. Håkon could tell that the farmers didn’t wander these forests often, preferring the security of the fields and the lighter woodland leading down to the fjord, eventually. Håkon stumbled after his husband as if in a trance. How could Talvinen agree to such a foray? He led the way, offering Håkon his back unprotected. Håkon was his enemy, and Talvinen even allowed him to carry his weapons. This was madness. He couldn’t bear—

“What if I attacked you out here?”

Clutching the hilt ofIsbani, Håkon came to an abrupt halt.

Talvinen turned around, his posture still relaxed. In the pale light of the midnight sun, he looked more god-like than ever.

“Do you want to?” His husband had the nerve to sound unconcerned about it.

“I’m here to kill you; didn’t you say so yourself?”

Talvinen shrugged.

“You don’t have to do as Bergelmir commands. You are now a prince of theVanir, and if you ask me to win the Frostland Throne for you—as is your birthright—I’ll lay Jotunheim at your feet. But if you want to fight me, I’ll be only too happy to grant you that wish, too.”

“You’re mad,” Håkon said helplessly.

“No.” Talvinen’s amused grin softened into something tender. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy. There’s a difference.”

“How’s there a difference?”

“A mad ruler is dangerous, especially to those around him. He could turn against the ones loyal and beloved to him for the most ridiculous reasons. You don’t have to fear that.”

“Well—”

Håkon hadn’t thought about it that way. Of course, he had no reason to trust Talvinen’s words, but he sounded so sincere that it was hard to simply dismiss them.

“What about Frekegar? He’s your sworn warrior, yet you humiliated him on my behalf.”

“He brought that upon himself when he disrespected you. Also, putting someone in their place and outright harming them are two different things, don’t you agree?”

“You’re not wrong… in a way—”

Humming contentedly, Talvinen took Håkon’s hand to kiss his knuckles. Håkon should have pushed him away, but instead, he reveled in the intimacy of the gesture.

“So, does my husband want to fight? I must say, I’m looking forward to testing my strength against Jotunheim’s best warrior.”

Talvinen must be out of his mind. Completely, adorably mad. Håkon couldn’t help but smile, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t name.

“Another day? We’re here to see the kings’ graves after all.”

“As you wish.”

Thankfully, Talvinen didn’t comment on the fact that it was Håkon who brought the topic up, and now backed down from the challenge. Not that the prospect of dueling Talvinen wasn’t thrilling, but Håkon was too worried that their fight could turn serious when they were out here alone. What was he to do if he really managed to defeat Talvinen? Håkon wasn’t ready to face this decision.

Not letting go of his hand, Talvinen guided him uphill and deeper into the forest. They wandered in comfortable silence, and by Håkon’s estimate, a good part of an hour had passed when the forest thinned out. They reached a grassy plateau covered with summer flowers that reminded Håkon of the area around Thrymheim. Håkon’s breath caught in his throat as theystepped out of the forest and three high, grass-covered mounds came into view. The burial sites rose in front of a glittering mountain lake, the area framed by standing stones covered in runic inscriptions and withered pictures. The sight was hauntingly beautiful.

“This way. We can sit at the lakeside and have ournattmal.” Talvinen gently tugged him by the hand and led him around the mounds toward the lakeshore.