Page 37 of Edge of the Wild

“Isn’t there a second prince? The one who was injured?”

Katherine waved the parchment in a rare show of exasperation. “Yes. On the mend, apparently. She’s going to ‘watch over him’ while the king and the brother are away.”

Amelia felt a smile threaten for the first time this morning. “Well, maybe she can marry that one.”

Katherine gave her a flat look. “If they fall into bed together, I suppose they’ve at least both got titles, hm?”

Amelia chuckled. “There’s the spirit.”

5

Silfr Hall

The Kingdom of Aeretoll

Oliver pushed back his snow-soaked hood and stared at the ceiling above. Its barreled curve was inlaid with silver – withso muchsilver. Delicate inlays of precious metal gleamed in the glow of many cressets; the light chased along hunt scenes, and battle scenes, and depictions of the gods, all outlined in silver that glowed almost-white against the dark stone.

It had been a long, cold day of riding; Oliver was wet, and his fingers ached with cold; he was saddle-sore, and had passed through the double doors of Silfr Hall’s vestibule thinking only of a roaring fire and a hot bowl of soup. But he stopped here, astounded with the craftsmanship on display overhead. “Oh,” he breathed, the words turning to vapor in the cold of the entryway.

Warm breath tickled his ear, and Erik’s amused voice said, “It’s called Silfr Hall for a reason.”

“I can see that now.” When Oliver turned his head, his face overlapped Erik’s, his eyes close and blue. Oliver thought, for a minute, that he would be kissed, right here as the party streamed into the castle around them.

But Erik said, “Your nose is red,” and pulled back, grinning, before he turned to say something to Leif.

“From your frozen bloody countryside,” Oliver muttered, unable to resist rubbing at the tip of his nose in hopes of warming it.

Lord Kjaran, a stout, appropriately silver-haired Northern duke with his beard in beaded plaits, stood in the center of the vestibule, and flung his arms wide. “Welcome, friends!” he boomed, voice echoing off the curved ceiling. “Welcome, Your Majesty! Welcome, everyone, to Silfr Hall.”

Servants came forward to collect cloaks and offer towels for those with wet hair or beards. Oliver scrubbed at the top of his head, still gazing up at the ceiling.

Beside him, Birger said, “The way Kjaran’s family tells it, that took six months to complete. The silver had to be heated, flattened, and then pressed into place by craftsmen wearing mail gauntlets while it was still soft. A few lost eyes from the drips,” he informed, cheerfully.

Oliver whistled. “I don’t doubt it. How long ago was this?”

“Oh, at least eighty years. It’s taken a century to decorate this hold.”

“There’s more?”

Birger chuckled. “Wait until you see it.”

On his other side, strong fingers hooked his sleeve. Erik said, quietly, “Ollie, come.” It was the first time he’d used the nickname in front of others, and Oliver would have gladly walked off the edge of a cliff with him, shivering pleasantly. As it was, he stepped up beside the king and let himself be towed up to their host, Lord Kjaran.

His lady wife, Helga, stood to one side of him; on the other, an attendant with a silver-chased wooden box on a velvet cushion with silver tassels.

Oliver privately wondered if he would be sick of silver by the time they left here.

Lord Kjaran bowed to Erik – to Oliver, too, indirectly, because they stood side-by-side. It was a surreal moment, one that left Oliver gripping Erik’s tunic. Erik’s hand settled at the small of his back, a stabilizing touch, and Oliver thought he must know what was going through his mind.

Lady Helga curtsied and said, “Your Majesty.” Her gaze touched briefly on Oliver, and, with a second curtsy, she said, “Your Lordship.”

Oliver’s grip tightened and twisted on the velvet of Erik’s tunic.

“Welcome to our home,” she continued. “We offer the warmth of our hearth, and the bread of our table.”

At a cue from Kjaran, the attendant opened the box’s lid, and offered it forward. Inside, on a bed of velvet, rested two rings. Men’s rings, obviously, heavy circles of gleaming silver, inlaid with rubies and sapphires, one slightly grander than the other, with a winking diamond at its center.

“I thank you for your hospitality, my lord, my lady,” Erik said, bowing his head in thanks. He took the rings, one in each hand, and then, to Oliver’s shock, offered the smaller one to him.

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