Page 7

Arngrim met him and Perhonen on the battlements when the Jotunn warships had sunk to the bottom of the fjord.

“You’ve already stopped them, I see,” Arngrim said mournfully.

“Don’t you dare complain. You killed Gunnlaug,” Talvi snarled, still furious about Arngrim’s rash decision to kill the priestess. “We could’ve interrogated her.”

“You think we should’ve listened to her lies until she managed to wreak more havoc or even flee?”

Talvi rolled his eyes. “Anyway, it wasn’t a full-blown attack, just a test of our strength.”

“Bergelmir isn’t a fool,” Perhonen said. “The lives of a few warriors are of no importance to him, but if his plot had succeeded and you died, they’d have had a good chance of taking the city with minimal losses.”

Talvi shrugged. “They wouldn’t. Should I die, I expect the both of you to protect the realm and the throne until my mothers return.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” Arngrim said, but Perhonen’s eyes glazed over, shining like two eerie moons.

Hel’s tits. His words must’ve triggered a vision.

“Yes,” Perhonen said, voice hollow and features blank. “I shall rule over Vanaheim while you’re dead.”

“Perhonen!” Arngrim gave her a shove as if a proper shaking could chase away the vision. “Don’t! Don’t say that!”

Shaking herself out of the trance, Perhonen’s eyes went back to their normal pale color.

“What did I say?” she asked, a little disoriented.

“You predicted my death,” Talvi said. He threw an arm over Arngrim’s shoulders, for his mentor looked shocked. “It’s just a prophecy. It means nothing.”

“She said you’re going to die!”

“It could be meant metaphorically,” Talvi said, unimpressed. If he had learnt anything from Perhonen and his mothers, then it was that words of prophecy were never what they seemed. He’d grown up with the stories of kings and queens destroying everything they held dear in a futile attempt to change fate. But Talvi could feel the strings of destiny around him all the time. They rippled behind a delicate veil, some thin as yarn and others thick as ropes, but always moving, breaking, and reconnecting.

“Metaphorically? Don’t you think it means something that she had this vision today of all days? You should get rid of Bloodaxe, and then we should crush Bergelmir for good measure. Make sure that the Jotnar think twice about attacking us again.”

“Speaking of Hakon, is he all right?” Hearing the hatred in Arngrim’s voice, Talvi had to assure himself that his betrothed was fine.

To his relief, Arngrim’s features softened, and he rolled his eyes.

“Your betrothed is alive, and I’ve made sure that no one will touch a hair on his precious head, which is way more than an assassin deserves if you’re asking me.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Wait a minute, Hakon Bloodaxe is here?” Perhonen asked. “What about the princess?”

“Bergelmir sent an assassin instead of his daughter,” Arngrim grumbled.

“He’s not an assassin,” Talvi countered. Just thinking about Hakon made his blood sing with excitement again. He’d been ready to do his duty and marry Princess Anya for the sake of his people, but instead of a strategic marriage, fate had dropped the man of his dreams right at his feet. Talvi still couldn’t believe it.

But why had Hakon been the one sent to kill him in the first place? Bergelmir wasn’t stupid. He must have realized that this kind of mission was a deadly risk, even for a mighty warrior like Hakon. How could Bergelmir put him in such danger? And did he really know so little about the customs of the Vanir ? Hadn’t Gunnlaug told him? Ultimately, it didn’t matter, Talvi decided.

“Bergelmir sent me his eldest son, whom I’m going to marry as planned.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? This isn’t about your ill-fated infatuation with a man you know nothing about! He’s going to kill you the first chance he gets!” Arngrim yelled.

“You weren’t worried about that when you planned to marry me off to Princess Anya!” Talvi shot back, finally getting annoyed at Arngrim’s pigheadedness.

“Because she’s a harmless girl and not fucking Hakon Bloodaxe!”

Perhonen watched their quarrel with an amused smile on her colorless lips. “So, we got Hakon instead of Princess Anya. Well, that’s certainly an interesting development.”

“Yeah. We should send Bergelmir his head to show him how we deal with word-breakers.”

“You will not touch him!” Talvi hissed. “None of you.”

Perhonen chuckled. “It seems I was mistaken. Bergelmir is a fool, after all.”

“Yes!” Arngrim nodded vigorously. It wasn’t often that he was of one opinion with the seeress.

“Last time I checked, I was the one ruling over Vanaheim. I’m going to marry him.”

“Of course you will,” Perhonen said.

“See? Perhonen agrees you should—” Arngrim faltered. “What did you just say?”

“Of course, Talvi is going to marry him. Bergelmir might think of Hakon as nothing more than a bastard son, but he’s a crown prince under our laws.”

“The king’s eldest child. Heir to the throne of Jotunheim,” Talvi said. “And Bergelmir probably didn’t expect me to marry a man.”

“But there’s no law forbidding the union of two warriors,” Perhonen smirked. “Not even in Jotunheim.”

Arngrim shook his head. “This is a horrible idea! You’ll bind yourself to a traitor for the rest of your life!”

“He’s not a traitor,” Talvi said with emphasis.

“Don’t listen to him. The dwarves don’t respect the power of deception,” Perhonen said. “If he’s not only a powerful warrior but also cunning, he’ll make a good king one day.”

“So you’re going to marry us?” Talvi asked, relieved. It was good to know at least Perhonen was on his side. He was going to marry Hakon, no matter what. But having Perhonen’s blessing meant a lot to him.

“Sure,” the seeress said, looking pointedly at Arngrim.

The dwarf glared at them for a few more seconds before throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh, by the norns, a lovesick fool and a mad old hag!” Arngrim grumbled. “What have I done to deserve this? Fine, marry the most dangerous Jotunn warrior. But keep in mind that I’ll kill Bloodaxe if he kills you. I hope that’s enough incentive for you to stay alive.”

Briskly walking down the stairs to the dungeons, Talvi cursed under his breath. When he had ordered Arngrim to arrest Hakon, he’d wanted his betrothed to be detained in the royal chambers and not locked up in a drafty dungeon. But he hadn’t explicitly told Arngrim that, and of course, his mentor had taken advantage of his omission.

Talvi glared at the guards, even though he knew they weren’t to blame for this mess. He shouldn’t have left Hakon in Arngrim’s care.

“Where is he?” Talvi asked the woman in charge. He knew Thyra, a loyal guard, but not the softest of souls. She gestured toward the cell at the far end of the corridor with an unfriendly grin. Just great.

“Keys.”

Impatiently, Talvi snatched them from her grasp and marched to the cell where Hakon was kept. Heart jumping to his throat, he opened the door. He halfway expected to be attacked by a furious Jotunn , but instead, he found Hakon standing at the far end of the cell, hands chained above his head.

Talvi’s steps faltered. Hakon looked even more battered than after their brief fight, his face smeared with blood and the delicate fabric of his hastily thrown on robe torn at the collar. He was easily the most beautiful thing Talvi had ever seen.

Feeling guilty about having failed to protect Hakon from getting hurt, Talvi carefully approached him. But, at the same time, he couldn’t stop staring at his betrothed, his mouth going dry. This was much too close to Talvi’s favorite fantasies.

“Welcome to Vanaheim, Prince Hakon,” Talvi managed, immediately cringing at his words. He was under no illusion that Hakon would despise him; the thought of being married to another man most likely repulsive to him. If Talvi wanted to make this work, he needed to woo him properly. And this was all he could come up with?

Predictably, Hakon only glared at him.

Stepping closer still, just out of range of a headbutt, Talvi admired the intricate patterns of the tattoos covering Hakon’s collarbones. He could feel their power, sucking in magical energy like a black hole. If Talvi had been a lesser vala or wielded a weaker spell, he wouldn’t have been able to stop Hakon’s attack earlier. And despite the danger the tattoos undoubtedly posed for any magical creature, Talvi’s fingers itched with the urge to touch them, to trace their lines all over Hakon’s body.

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Hakon snarled. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Isn’t it common for husbands to talk to each other in Jotunheim?”

“Husbands?” Hakon’s voice rose with incredulity, a bluish blush spreading across his cheekbones.

“You came here in your sister’s stead, no?”

Hakon’s bright eyes widened as if he were struggling to process what Talvi had just told him. But Talvi’s words probably didn’t make much sense from his point of view.

“You do know that you’re a crown prince under our laws?” Talvi tried again.

“I’m not.”

“You’re Bergelmir’s first-born child.”

Hakon’s lips twisted with anger and something else Talvi couldn’t quite decipher. “But my mother was—she wasn’t a queen.”

“And?”

“And a bastard son doesn’t become king,” Hakon 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, Hakon 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!” Hakon 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 Hakon 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 Hakon’s reaction. He was desperate for more information.

What little color was left drained from Hakon’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.”

Hakon shuddered. “You are mad.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

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

“Very well,” Hakon finally said.

“Huh?”

“You were promised a marriage and a marriage you’ll get. The Jotnar aren’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 Hakon’s stubborn bravery, but he was more than willing to take what he could get. Grinning, he tucked a strand of hair back behind the Jotunn’s ear. It felt incredibly soft, and Talvi was delighted by the muffled gasp that his gesture elicited from Hakon. Pulling away reluctantly, he mended the ripped fabric on Hakon’s collar with a lazy wave of his hand.

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

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

Despite Hakon’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 Hakon happy.

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

“Welcome to the citadel, Prince Hakon,” 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,” Hakon answered her politely, but he stepped a little closer to Talvi, his posture tense.

He could understand Hakon’s unease. Aside from being one of the most feared vala in 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 Hakon’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.”

A new wave of excitement washed over Talvi. Only this morning he’d believed that a bleak future bonded to a princess he neither knew nor wanted lay in front of him. But now fate had offered him the most desirable man he could imagine instead. The only thing he had to do was to make Hakon fall for him, too. Even as a boy, when he’d watched Hakon fight and Talvi’s feelings for him had been nothing more than a child’s infatuation, he’d sensed a deep sadness in Hakon. Talvi felt the need to make him happy now, just as acutely as he had then. He couldn’t bear to see him miserable for the rest of their lives.

Watching them with an unreadable expression, Perhonen nodded. Most people were creeped out by her clairvoyant abilities, detesting having someone close who probably knew everything about their future. Talvi found it amusing. And he was determined to forge his own fate.

Gaze falling on the ice flower circlet Hakon had worn earlier, Talvi picked it up curiously. He turned it in his hands, marveling at its beauty.

“Is this a dwarven work?” he asked.

“It’s a Jotunn blacksmith’s masterpiece, supposed to be part of my sister’s dowry,” Hakon said, sounding bitter about it.

Talvi couldn’t have that. He would have gladly kissed away the pinched look on Hakon’s face.

“Why don’t you return it to her when the time comes?”

“Maybe,” Hakon mumbled, not meeting Talvi’s gaze. “We’ll see.”

“Until then—” Fluffing up Hakon’s hair, Talvi placed the circlet back on his head. “—you should at least wear the circlet with pride. It suits you.”

Color rose to Hakon’s cheeks, but he didn’t pull away. The bride’s circlet symbolized virginity and was usually removed during the bathing ritual, and Talvi couldn’t resist teasing Hakon a little by making him wear it again. Besides, he looked unfairly gorgeous with the icy crystals glimmering in his hair. But seeing Hakon’s reaction, he almost regretted his rash decision. He wanted to brighten Hakon’s mood and not humiliate him. But it seemed he wasn’t very good at charming his husband-to-be.

“Very well,” Perhonen said, her features serene as ever, but Talvi didn’t doubt for a second that she was inwardly having a good laugh at his expense. In a swirl of white robes, she finally left them, abandoning Talvi to deal with his betrothed.

Talvi sighed. He’d hoped that some civil conversation and a little bit of harmless flirting would reassure Hakon. He must be able to tell that Talvi was flirting, not mocking him, right? But Hakon still looked like he was being dragged to his execution, not his wedding. Obviously, Talvi wasn’t doing a good enough job.

“Would you like to see where you’ll live? Come.” He gestured to Hakon to follow him into a more private part of his living quarters, hoping to convey that he had every intention of keeping Hakon by his side as his adored husband and not lock him away to rot in the dungeons. But after Arngrim’s little stunt, he must be thinking exactly that. He followed Talvi cautiously, almost as if expecting a trap.

Behind the tactic room, the royal chambers stretched out, consisting of Talvi’s bedroom, a library, comfortable living quarters, and the private bathing house Hakon had already seen. As they stepped inside the living quarters, Hakon eyed the huge four-poster bed dominating the bedroom as if it might bite him before letting his gaze trail over the whole room. Talvi was under no illusion that he wasn’t searching for a weapon. But the mere sight of Hakon standing next to his bed was way too enticing for him to worry about much else.

“Do you like it? You know, we can always redecorate,” Talvi said with a wink. But he was being serious. If Hakon had asked him to raze the citadel to the ground and rebuild it as he wished, Talvi would’ve done so in a heartbeat.

“It’s tolerable,” Hakon said haughtily. His condescending tone made Talvi want to pile treasures at his feet.

“Good.”

Pulling off his stained tunic, Talvi threw it carelessly to the floor and headed for the washing basin. He couldn’t look like a blacksmith when he was going to marry a prince, after all. Before making himself presentable again, Talvi wetted a piece of cloth, offering it to Hakon.

“May I?”

Hakon’s gaze jumped from Talvi’s chest to his face, but Talvi didn’t dare hope that the Jotunn might enjoy the sight. In hindsight, it might’ve been smarter to keep his clothes on before invading Hakon’s space, but being near him made it difficult to think straight.

“What are you talking about?” Hakon seemed so confused, ready to bolt. What wouldn’t Talvi have given for him to be relaxed and happy, but he knew trust would have to be earned.

He gestured toward the blood still staining Hakon’s chin. Lifting a hand, Hakon gingerly touched his lips, obviously surprised to find that his fingers came back bloodied.

“Oh.”

Daring to shift a little closer still, Talvi carefully started to clean the cut on Hakon’s bottom lip.

“Did you decide to try to overpower ten guards?” Talvi asked lightly, but what he really wanted to know was whether anyone had dared to lay a hand on Hakon unprovoked.

“Your warriors aren’t fond of me.”

Well, that wasn’t a direct complaint, but probably as much of an admission of being ill-treated as he could expect from someone like Hakon. How dare they? Talvi ought to have a serious conversation with Arngrim and whoever had the smart idea to punch the future prince consort in the face. Gritting his teeth, Talvi tried to rein in his anger.

“You’ll tell me if someone disrespects you again. Understood?”

Not for the first time, Hakon looked at him as if Talvi had lost his mind. He didn’t even dignify that with an answer.

“That’s when you say ‘yes,’” Talvi implored. At the very least, he needed Hakon to know that he was serious about this.

“Fine.” Hakon shrugged as if his own well-being was only an afterthought to him.

“I’m serious,” Talvi hissed, suddenly angry with Hakon too. How was the idiot thinking he’d survive being practically a hostage in an enemy court if he didn’t talk to Talvi?

Hakon laughed. It was a bitter sound that did something ugly to Talvi’s insides.

“What is there to laugh about?”

“Oh, by the gods. What do you want to hear? The wench in charge of your dungeons has a vicious left hook. Satisfied?”

“Thyra? Very well. I’ll have words with her.”

To Talvi’s annoyance, Hakon only laughed harder.

“Are you going to reprimand her like an unruly child? How old are you, boy? Your warriors will never respect you like this.”

Hakon’s voice dripped with contempt, and by all means his words should make Talvi even angrier. But something gave him pause. This was all Hakon knew, he realized. This must be life at Bergelmir’s court; you were treated cruelly if you had no power, and only respected if you could assert dominance by force.

“I turned twenty-two at the last winter solstice,” Talvi said gently instead of rising to Hakon’s bait. “So, tell me, do you think I’m too young for you? Don’t worry, my lovers have never complained.”

Mocking laughter turned to coughing. Hakon watched him as if Talvi had grown a second head.

Patting Hakon’s back, a grin slipped onto Talvi’s face. He hoped he had managed to lighten his betrothed’s mood a little.

“Are you well, dróttning ?” Talvi asked innocently, pleased to watch Hakon bringing his breathing back under control with some difficulty.

“I’m fine,” Hakon growled, ignoring the endearment.

Oh, how Talvi enjoyed ruffling his feathers. Flustering Hakon was just too easy.

If only he knew Hakon enjoyed their little verbal battles as much as Talvi did, he might have found his new favorite pastime.