Page 66 of Heart of Winter
Erik arched a single brow, his tone dry – his gaze bright with amusement, though. “Thought you’d come and fetch the Great Northern Phalanx to solve your troubles, did you?”
“My aunt’s idea, I assure you,” Oliver retorted, just as dry.
A smile threatened, and how had Erik’s face ever looked carved from stone when it was so mobile and expressive?
Birger cleared his throat, and Oliverdid notjump as if burned. He took another swallow of wine and said, “Nede still stands untouched; we used their harbor to sail up the east coast to get here. But Lord Robert is in agreement with my aunt – and with me. If Aquitainian forces can’t expel the Sel army, and right now they can’t, then I think there’s a very good chance Aquitainia will fall to them. If they manage to take the capital, if the Crownlands fall to them…”
“Seles annexes the continent,” Erik finished, nodding. “Which would make them our neighbors to the south.”
“I’m not trying to make this your problem,” Oliver said, letting a bit of ceremony drop. The fatigue hit him all over again, honesty helped along by the wine. “But I don’t think Aquitainia can win this war. Not alone. It was a risk coming here, and asking for this alliance, but it was our best chance.”
Erik nodded. Then reached for a stack of unsealed letters at the edge of the table, the wax seals broken-open, each of a different color. “In the past week, I’ve had no less than seven offers from Aquitainian lords, all of them looking to trade a daughter for an army.”
“Oh.” The breath left his lungs in a rush. Oliver hadn’t even stopped to considerthat– that they might have competition in this area. Katherine must have known, though. She’d all but pushed them out the door.
“Lucky for you,” Erik continued, setting the letters aside. “You arrived first. Now.” He reached for another sheaf of parchment. “Birger, do we have last year’s trade reports?”
~*~
Oliver wasn’t aware of drifting off to sleep, but found himself waking, some indeterminable time later. He had slumped down in his chair, and his neck was stiff, but the hand that had held the wine cup was empty, now. The fire popped and crackled; voices spoke in low, murmured tones.
Eyelids heavy and reluctant, Oliver let the sounds wash over him.
Birger’s voice: “Shall I rouse the lad and take him along with me?”
Erik: “No. I’ll send him to bed in a bit. Let him sleep if he needs it.”
A pause. A sigh. Birger said, “Ah, lad.”
“Birger–”
“I want – we all want you to find a bit of happiness.”
“Trust me: I’m in no danger of that.”
A huff of quiet laughter. “You’ve always been a terrible liar. But you can’t lie to me.”
“Hm.”
“If the approval of an old man matters–”
“Always.”
“–I like him. I have to say ‘be careful,’ because that’s my job.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Though you’re so buttoned up, I don’t suppose my caution is necessary.”
“Hey.”
A chair creaked, and Birger’s knees popped as he stood. His voice was full of fond warmth. “I mean it, though. The being happy part.”
“Duly noted.”
“And” – Birger’s tone turned sly – “if it’s reciprocation you’re worried about…I’d say you’re safe on that front.”
“Goodnight, Birger.”
