Page 7 of Heart of Winter
“But…the letter…” Oh, Gods, had there been some horrible miscommunication? Did Erik notknow?
Another snort, this one accompanied by the faintest ghost of a mocking smile. “Do I look like I’m in want of a teenage virgin bride? No. She’ll be marrying my nephew.”
The statement should have been a relief – Tessa certainly relaxed with a sudden exhale – but it was said like a threat, and Oliver could sense nothing like a welcome.
4
“But I didn’t want to marry the king,” Tessa insisted a half-hour later, once they’d been shown to adjoining rooms and left to unpack. “I will do it, surely, if I must, and gladly, for my family, but I’d much prefer – if I’m to be married off at all – Prince Leif to his uncle. King Erik is…frightening.”
For his own part, Oliver would have saidintimidating, but that was after pushing down the wild urge to curl up in a ball and protect all his most vulnerable areas. Even seated, and draped in furs, it had been obvious that King Erik was a physically powerful man, younger than he’d expected, despite those distinguishing silver threads in his hair – they matched the beads woven into his braids…
Off topic.
Irrelevant.
“Be that as it may,” he said with a sigh, “I wrote asking ifhewas interested in marrying you. And he gave no indication that he wasn’t agreeable to that – or of anything, really,” he said, sourly, and dropped down to sit on the window ledge, which was padded with hide-wrapped pillows and a heap of furs – fur was a bit of a theme here, it appeared.
Tessa shook out a dress and made a face at it – it was all soft, thin silks unsuited to this climate. “I don’t want to marry someone who doesn’t like me.”
“He can’t dislike you, he doesn’t even know you. I need to at least have a conversation with the man.”
Tessa shot him a look.
“Tess.” He gentled his tone. “This is meant to be an alliance.”
“And it still will be.” Politely insistent, but with a hint of steel edging her voice. For all her sweetness, shewasher mother’s daughter.
“At any moment now,” he said, patiently, “the ceasefire will end. It’s a matter ofwhen, notif. When it does, it’ll be advantageous for you to be queen.”
“I would be queen eventually, once Leif became king.”
He offered a smile, and knew it was pathetic. “Will King Erik march forth to save his nephew’s wife’s family estate?”
Her brow furrowed.
“A man will go to war for his mate. But maybe not for a new niece by marriage.”
Her frown deepened. “I hate it when you make sense.”
“So do I.” He turned toward the window, and peered through the leaded glass at the kingdom that sprawled beyond – what he could see of it.
Their rooms were on the third floor, along a straight stretch of wall, with windows that overlooked the snow-covered plains they’d cut across on their way from the harbor. The land sloped, faintly, and through a haze of mist, he could just make out the half-moon gleam of the harbor, and houses like little snow-capped building blocks. He saw a trio of riders coming up the road, and off toward the west, lines that he finally realized were fences mostly buried by snow drifts. A few stone walls. And the rumpled-quilt shadows of the foothills, folded together at the bases of the high peaks, wreathed by fog.
The scuff of slippers on carpet heralded Tessa’s arrival as she joined him. “It’s beautiful, in its own way,” she said, softly, her breath fogging the glass above his head.
“Hm,” he hummed. “I miss the green.”
~*~
Because Oliver had done his research ahead of time, he’d know that the Palace of Aeres would be warm and livable, and hadn’t expected goat-herding tents and shoes made of wood, but he still found himself surprised by the comfort of the place. Roaring fires beat back the chill in their rooms, and the stone floors were covered with thick, woolen carpets in swirling creams, reds, and blues – house colors, he’d realized, judging by the banner in the great hall. The bedframes were wood – heavy, dark wood carved with strong, geometric lines, runes etched into the headboards; feather mattresses and pillows piled with wool blankets and furs. His room also boasted a pair of wood chairs by the fire, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a table for the ewer, basin, and toweling. There was no bathroom with indoor plumbing like in Drakewell, but he’d known not to expect that, and Bjorn had boasted about the endless hot water in the baths, down below the palace in the network of inhabited caves. A small shelf housed books, some of them in traditional Aeretollean runes, but others in the Universal tongue.
Tessa sat down at the desk in her room with parchment and quill to pen a note to her mother telling her of their safe arrival.
Oliver unpacked his things into the wardrobe and chest in his room, and wondered if it would be impertinent to go exploring.
When Tessa assured him she was fine without him – with a distracted wave of her quill – he headed down the hall, surprised at his own boldness.
One floor down, in a hallway marked with flickering wall sconces, he found a set of wide, open double doors that led into a room whose scent drew him immediately: that of ink and parchment and leather and glue. The library.
