Page 76 of Blood of Wolves

Only to halt when he ran into Bjorn.

It wasn’t unusual to find his uncle’s oldest friend, and the captain of the guard in the royal apartments. He was basically family, and a central figure of their household.

But it was unusual to find him standing barefoot on the rug, buckling his armor on over a half-laced tunic. As if he hadn’t already been in full kit when he’d come into the apartments.

As if he’d spent the night here.

Rune’s mind flashed back to yesterday at dawn, up on the ramparts; to Bjorn standing behind his mother, his huge hands resting on her shoulders. An innocent enough touch, on its face.

But Bjorn and Revna didn’t touch.Like brother and sister, she’d said once, when talking about the old days, when Father was still alive, and Uncle was less kingly and more reckless. Bjorn had been as much a brother to her as Uncle.

Except, Revna and Uncle touched – supportive shoulder squeezes, teasing nose flicks, quick elbows, and unshy hugs when one or the other needed it – and Revna and Bjorn didn’t.

But he’d touched her yesterday.

And here he was now, half-dressed, and still, at this point, regarding Rune flatly from beneath slanted brows. Nowhere near his own chamber on the other side of the door and down the hall.

Rune searched for something to say, and came up short. He wasn’t angry – well, all right, a little. His mother was his mother and he didn’t like to think of her inthat way. But, on the other hand, Bjorn was strong, and capable, and loyal, and Revna couldn’t have chosen a better man.

Rune cleared his throat.

Bjorn sighed. “Do we need to do this, lad? Because we can, if you’d like. It’s honorable of you, and it’s your right.”

Rune swallowed hard. He should say something. Make some threat…? But the idea of threatening Bjorn was, honestly, laughable.Hurt my mother and I’ll kill you. Yes, becausethatwould happen. A butterfly might as well beat itself to death against a…well, a bear.

Bjorn smirked. “Don’t hurt yourself, lad.”

“Oi, I’ll have you know–”

Bjorn sighed, smirk falling away, and finished with the buckle of his gauntlet. “Listen, Rune. I won’t blame you if you’re angry with me. Be as mad as you like. But now’s not the time for petty squabbles.”

Rune sighed, too. “Yeah, I know.” His belly squirmed unpleasantly, but he dredged up a smile. “It’s just…if she ever moved on from Father, I’d hoped it would be with a nice fancy Southern lord–”

“Let a fancy Southern sheep headtry,” Bjorn growled.

Rune chuckled.

Bjorn stepped forward, and extended his hand in offering. “Let’s say your mother isn’t in the habit of doing things she doesn’t want to.”

“Are you trying to make me sick before the day’s even started?”

“Listen, I’m being serious. You know she doesn’t. This is her choice. I’m just the lucky idiot she chose. We can have it out man-to-man later, if you’d like, if we bloody live through this war. But right now, we’re on the same side, yeah?”

Just like that – with mention of war – his petty disgust over his mother’s carnal activities melted away to insignificance. He took Bjorn’s hand. “Yeah.”

~*~

Tessa woke to a soft rap at the door.Hilda, she thought, and stretched, toes finding the cool spots in the sheets.

But the stretch tugged at a wholly new, deep soreness she’d never felt before, and she froze.

It wasn’t Hilda at the door.

It wasn’t evenherdoor.

The last, clinging hold of sleep evaporated, and her eyes flipped open. The room was still shadowed, the furniture black against the gray of a slow-coming dawn, but it was most definitely not her room, with its massive bed, and its lingering scent of pine. She sat up, naked in Rune’s bed, and saw with horror that the door was swinging open, the glow of a lantern slipping into the room. She clutched the bedclothes to her breasts and tried, unsuccessfully, to draw a breath.

The light swelled, as the door opened all the way, glowing fire-orange across the elegant lines of Revna’s face.

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