Page 97 of Heart of Winter
Ragnar continued to laugh, but when his gaze lifted up and over Oliver’s shoulder, a guardedness entered it. There was a healthy respect there; an internal acknowledgement that Bjorn was a man capable of putting him on his ass in front of everyone.
“Bjorn,” he greeted. “Still licking boots, I see. Why don’t you quit my cousin and come north? You could earn some notoriety for yourself, up there. Found your own tribe.”
Oliver couldn’t see Bjorn’s grin, but he could hear the nasty edge to it when he said, “Now where would the challenge be in that?”
Ragnar’s smile became a grimace. “You always did like a challenge, didn’t you? Especially the ones you couldn’t win.” His smile returned, twice as malicious, and his gaze cut pointedly to the side.
Toward Revna, who joined them with a thunderous expression, blue eyes flashing. “Boys,” she said, even tone belying the glare she shot at Ragnar. “You’re blocking the tree for our guests.”
“I’m a guest,” Ragnar said, still grinning wickedly.
Revna’s cold look ought to have turned him to stone. “No. You’re family. Family doesn’t get special dispensation.”
He held up both empty hands with a low “ooh,” but moved off, chuckling under his breath.
Revna traded a look with Bjorn, her jaw firming, and then looked to Oliver. “A word of caution, lamb. You play too many word games with that one, and he’ll start swinging.”
“Yes.” Oliver suppressed a shiver. “I can see that.”
~*~
The tree gleamed and sparkled as the flickering candlelight caught on the hundreds of silver ornaments the feast guests had strung from the branches. The hall was warm – from the fires, and the number of bodies packed close, and the candle flames, and the free-flowing wine – but it wasn’t the cause of the warmth that had settled in Tessa’s cheeks. She was being watched.
In the crush of decorating the tree, Revna had introduced her to a number of the highborn ladies – those that hadn’t pushed boldly forward and introduced themselves. All had been smiling, all had exclaimed over her dress and her hair, and wished her well. There had been a few dark looks, a few upturned noses, but nothing like back at home, in Drakewell. To be honest, she preferred the outright snubs to the false smiles and compliments of high society in the South. If someone didn’t like her, she wanted to know about it, rather than try to parse each bit of flattery.
It was the daughters she worried about. The young ladies her own age, most of whom had come together in a loose knot on the other side of the room, whispering to one another and shooting assessing glances her way, some curious, most narrow and evaluating, a few outright hostile.
One, a statuesque blonde with hair braided into thick ropes, and a belt of silver circles around her waist, broke away from the group, pasted a beatific smile onto her face, and approached Leif where he stood near Birger. She touched his arm, and said something that made him smile down at her. Tessa couldn’t miss the sly, mocking glance the girl slid her way before she refocused her attention on Leif, head tossed back in laughter at something he’d said.
“That’s Estrid,” Rune said, appearing at Tessa’s elbow. A glance proved that his lip was curled in distaste.
“She’s very pretty,” Tessa said.
Across the room, the blonde slid her hand higher up Leif’s arm, until she cupped his elbow familiarly.
Rune snorted. “She’s a witch.”
She whirled to face him, startled by the vehemence of his tone – and then of his face, when she saw his furrowed brow, and his frowning mouth. Always so jovial, his smile so quick and easy, he looked nearly as stern as his uncle, now.
He glanced down, saw her curious expression, and said, “My mother, having no daughters of her own, lets the young, noble ladies of other houses come to court sometimes. Usually in groups. They shadow her, learn from her, and get to attend all the official functions.
“Estrid started coming around when she and Leif were ten – they’re the same age. She glommed onto him right away – ten years old and already thinking about marriage. It wasn’t because she liked Leif, but because she wanted to be queen someday.”
“Can you really know that? Maybe she did – does care for him.”
Rune tilted his head and cocked a single brow.Come on. “She doesn’t. She’s completely mercenary, and she hated me, because I was always tagging along with Leif. She made a game of trying to get me to go away: she’d say the cruelest things she could think of to send me running.” He made a face.
Tessa glanced back toward Estrid – standing even closer to Leif and looking at Tessa over her shoulder, her smile close-lipped and triumphant. She had to admit that she recognized that look, had seen it on many a girl’s face at the Drakewell court.
It was all too easy to envision a young Rune, already determined and proud, but still a child who played with toys, and who was willing to climb into his mother’s lap, and who worshipped his big brother. Only five. The thought of being cruel to a child that age, even if she’d been young herself, fanned her unease about Estrid into full-fledged dislike.
“Don’t worry,” Rune said. “Leif is polite to her, because he’s polite to everyone, but he doesn’t care for her.”
When she glanced toward him again, she caught the flicker of a fleeting, wistful smile.
But then a true smile split his face; she felt a little swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach in response. “Ooh, look, it’s about to start.”
“What is?”
