Page 83 of Twin Crowns

He reached her in a matter of moments, his arm tightening around her waist as he hoisted her up above the waterline. Wren broke the surface in a dramatic gasp. Then she spluttered and flailed for good measure. Tor pulled her against his body until her head flopped back against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she heaved as she lay in his arms. “You saved me.”

The soldier used his free arm to swim them back to the riverbank. “You can drop the act. I know you can swim.”

Wren fluttered her lashes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“If you want a moment alone, there are better ways to go about it.” Tor’s lips were cool against the shell of her ear. “I saw you float at first. You looked as if you were enjoying it.”

“I was in shock,” said Wren mildly. “Everyone knows I’m terrified of water.”

He turned to look at her. Droplets hung like beads from his lashes, the gray of his eyes the exact shade of a thunderstorm. “Liar,” he whispered.

Feeling reckless and overcome with desire, Wren turned her face and pressed a kiss to his neck.

A shiver passed through Tor, and she felt him harden against her.

Wren rolled her head back and closed her eyes, smirking just a little as he ferried her back to the riverbank. She was pulled out of the waterby the palace guards, who both looked rather sheepish. “It’s fine. I survived,” she assured them. “You can catch your breath now.”

Ansel jostled his way through. He cupped Wren’s face in his hands, his palms warm and clammy against her cheeks. “Are you all right, my flower? Your lips are positively blue.”

“I’m lucky your soldier swims like a fish,” said Wren through chattering teeth.

Behind her, Tor was shaking himself off like a wet dog. His hair was sopping wet and plastered across his forehead, and his white shirt had gone completely see-through.Oh, stars.Wren tried not to stare at his biceps as he wrung himself out. Tor caught her looking at him. His gaze dropped, first to the column of her neck, then slowly to the rest of her body, where her sopping dress clung too tightly to her curves.

His throat bobbed. Then he plucked his frock coat from the ground and handed it to her. “For your modesty, Princess.”

“Well, thank the Great Protector for good sense!” Chapman whirled on the palace guards. “In case either of you two hapless imbeciles is wondering, that is what acompetentsoldier looks like.”

The guards hurried to remove their frock coats. “Here, have mine, Your Highness!”

“No, take mine! I just shined the buttons this morning!”

“Just one will do, thank you,” said Wren. Tor’s coat dwarfed her, coming to just above her knees, and yet the smell—of alpine and adventure—pleasantly tickled her nose. She pulled the collar around her.

Ansel toyed with the feather on his hat, looking anxiously toward the approaching boats. “My countrymen are almost upon us.”

Chapman turned on Wren. “You should return to the palace at once.The king of Gevra must be introduced to the princess of Eana in the proper forum, not to mention in her finest regalia and at her fullest beauty.” He clucked his tongue. “Not like the quivering river rat you are now.”

Wren fought the urge to shove Chapman into the water. “Of course,” she said meekly. “I’ll go at once.”

“It’s too late,” said Tor, who, being considerably taller than the others, could see much farther. He wasn’t looking at the first boat of Gevran soldiers but at the one gliding directly behind it. The one full of beasts.

Wren frowned. “Is that—?”

“Yes,” said Ansel and Tor at the same time.

King Alarik was standing alone at the bow of the ship, his beasts roaming freely around him. He was tall and slender, wearing an immaculate white coat trimmed with fur and inlaid with silver brocade. His skin was pale as winter’s snow, and his hair was the color of summer wheat, a single dark line streaking through it like a lightning bolt. His hair was swept away from his face by an elaborate silver-branch crown that lent him the impression of a proud stag.

Behind him, a mighty ice bear reared up and released an earth-shattering roar.

Alarik Felsing didn’t even flinch.

“So, the king rides with his beasts?” Wren couldn’t tear her eyes off him. There was a kind of terrifying beauty about Alarik—a delicacy that belied his brutal nature—and his unexpected presence on the river had inspired an icy kernel of fear to take hold inside her.

“He trusts them more than his men,” said Tor darkly.

Ansel shifted uncomfortably.

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