Page 16 of Ties of Death

I make a face at her.

“You’ll be fine, darling.” She gives me a reassuring smile and squeezes my hand, but there’s reluctance lingering around her eyes.

“Then why do you look like that?”

“I need to return to the kitchens.” She looks truly sorry to abandon me.

“Oh.” Of course she does. She’s probably already spent far more time with me than I deserve. “Go, then. I’ll be fine. Make sure they don’t burn anything.”

“You will be fine. And Lars and Bjorn will be with you until Daenn comes; don’t worry.” She gives my hand one last pat, kisses my cheek, and then bustles away. She never goes anywhere slowly.

I stare at the entrance to the great hall; I can barely see some of the gathered clan around the corner. I keep my eyes pinned there as I speak. “I don’t suppose you’d take me back to my room?”

One of my guards—Lars—answers in a monotone. “We have strict orders to escort you to the welcome feast and stay there with you until the king arrives.”

I sigh. Of course they do. Lars used to be easy to wheedle, though. Maybe I can persuade him if I look pitiful enough.

Probably why Daenn assignedtwoguards to watch me. Bjorn has always been far less sympathetic to rule-breaking than Lars.

I can’t do this. I can’t face this crowd alone. For a fleeting moment, Idowish Daenn were here—not for the man himself, but because I’m sure no one would dare approach if he were looming at my side.

I’m working up the nerve to raise my chin and enter the great hall with the regality of the Queen of Verksland when a familiar voice calls from behind me.

“Emana!”

I turn at my name. A man is striding down the hall behind me. He’s tall, thin, and sleek. He wears the fitted leathers of the gryphon warriors, and his short black hair is combedstraight back. He slows before me, gaze slowly tracking up and down my figure.

Viggo. A distant cousin of Daenn, and currently the next in line to become king. He and Daenn have never been on terribly good terms, perhaps because Viggo used to have a tendency of aggressively flirting with me that Daenn thought disrespectful. Viggo’s father was chief to the South Peak Clan, and he was a vicious, warmongering chief, often making unsanctioned raids on lowland farms and villages that Daenn’s father had to bring him to task for on occasion. I know Viggo has taken on the chief’s mantle since I left the clan, but I don’t know if he’s like his father.

Hopefully not, since Viggo is still Daenn’s heir, at least until Daenn produces an heir.

My chest aches instinctively at the thought, sharp and deep and painful, so I shove the thought of producing heirs right off a mental cliff and return my attention to my new companion.

“Viggo. You look well.” I’m surprised to see him here. When we were children, it was not unusual for him to visit our clan’s mountain, but since he’s clan chief now, I imagine his duties usually keep him in his own mountain.

He gives me a slow, lazy smile. “As do you, Emana.” His face twists into something near sympathy, but it looks a bit too put-on to be believable. “I’ve heard what Daenn did to your husband. It’s a tragedy we have to meet under these circumstances. I’d always hoped that if you were to return and marry back into the clan… well, you are wasted on my cousin. But what else could we expect from him? Dragging you back here and marrying you with only his own lackeys to witness, as if you’re a shameful secret—it’s quite like him.” He tsks as his gaze tracks over me again. “If it had been me—and a few years sooner, of course, as I’m married now—you would have gotten the wedding you deserved.”

I bristle. I said nearly the same thing to Daenn myself regarding the wedding, but hearing it from Viggo, who has always hated Daenn… and having him leer at me while he says it?

I want nothing more than to—

“Viggo.”

I jump at the icy voice behind me. Viggo stiffens and takes a subtle step back. I turn to look at Daenn—he’s approached without a sound, he’s radiating anger, and it’s entirely focused on his cousin.

If Viggo’s words hadn’t made it clear already they aren’t any friendlier than they were, Daenn’s posture certainly would now.

“Why are you on my mountain? And why are you holdingmy wifeback from entering her own feast?”

My stomach tightens at that term of address on his lips.

Viggo holds up his hands defensively. “Is it a crime to greet an old friend? We were just chatting. It’s why I’m here, after all. I heard you’d gotten married and came to congratulate you.”

“You have a clan to manage. A wife due to birth your child soon. Warriors to bring to heel after that recent—”

“My clan is well in hand without you hovering like a mother gryphon.” Viggo’s tone is light, but his smile is strained. “You tend your clan, and I’ll tend mine. Better yet, lavish your extra attention onyourwife. You need all the help you can get, if the rumors flying hold any weight.”

Daenn’s fingers curl into a fist, his anger palpable in the air. I’m more than ready to escape this awkward standoff. Pointedly turning back to Viggo, I give him one of the lowland curtsies. “It’s good to see you, Viggo.”

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