Page 86 of Captured in Love
“No.” My answer is an instinctual reaction to the flare-up of pain and hurt. I force myself to take a calm breath, then add, “Not yet.”
“All right.” He cracks open the door, and the sound of the television show the girls are watching filters in. “When you’re ready, come join us for dinner.”
I scrub myself in the cooling water, then put on Isak’s clothes. They’re too large for me, obviously, but I tie the drawstring on the sweatpants and cuff the sleeves on his Henley. The fabric smells like him, and I resist the urge to sniff at it like a complete lunatic. I’m especially mindful of the fact that there are two little girls in the house with us.
With a towel still wrapped around my head, I pad out into the hallway and follow the sounds of happy chatter to the kitchen. Tinna is nowhere to be seen, but the girls and Isak are seated at the table. Their plates are heaped with pancakes and, weirdly, raw salmon fillets.
Conversation stops the moment I appear, and the girls’ eyes go huge. The younger one says something in Icelandic, and they both giggle. Isak grumbles something in reply, giving them both a stern frown.
Right. This isn’t awkward at all.
“Pancakes?” Isak asks, pointing at the fourth place setting at the table.
I accept the offering, complete with apricot jam, hazelnut spread, and lots of cinnamon. For a moment, I worry that my presence might make things weird, but kids are nothing if not accepting. Isak’s nieces don’t seem to care that I can’t speak Icelandic, and they pepper me with questions that Isak translates to me. They span everything from my favorite color to where I live to whether I’m going to marry their uncle.
To deflect some of the embarrassment from myself—I can’t look Isak in the eye when I answernoon that last one—I ask the girls what they want to be when they grow up. Dana declares she’ll be a mermaid, which is awesome, but Klara goes very serious and says something in Icelandic that has Isak tweaking her chin and pulling a funny face to make her laugh. The girls giggle, then disappear toward the bathroom, where splashing sounds announce they’re rinsing off their jam-smeared faces.
“What just happened?” I ask. “Did I say something wrong?”
Isak shakes his head. “She said she’ll be queen when she’s older but doesn’t want her mom to die.”
I blink in confusion. “What?”
His lips twist in a wry smile. “Tinna is our queen, and Klara is her eldest child.”
“Your queen?” I squeak. “Like, actual royalty?”
Isak stands and stacks the dirty plates and cutlery. “Yes, actual royalty. She rules all the Icelandic sea dragons.”
“All the—” My mouth refuses to cooperate with my rapidly whirring thoughts. “Oh gods, how many sea dragons are there on Iceland?”
Isak purses his lips as if debating something with himself.
I hold my hand up. “Wait, stop. You don’t need to tell me.”
I get that he’s trying to protect his people. And even though I’m curious about the other sea dragons, I’m still stuck on the fact that Isak’s sister is the queen of all sea dragons here.
“Oh crap,” I exclaim, “does that mean you’re a prince?”
He snorts at that and carries the plates back to the kitchen. “I’m Tinna’s half-brother. I didn’t inherit any of the royal blood, just the trouble that comes with it.”
I think of the conversation he had with his sister and the gaps in my knowledge.
“Who is Kiran?” I ask.
Isak’s expression darkens. He runs the tap over the dirty dishes and starts scrubbing them. “Tinna’s actual brother. The second born. He was supposed to enter the Games, but he broke his legs just before the opening ceremony, which is why I went instead.”
I get up, grab a kitchen towel, and gently take a teacup from Isak’s hands. As I dry it, I murmur, “I’m glad.”
Isak sends me a sideways glance. “Really? You could have met aprince.”
His voice holds a note of bitterness that tells me things aren’t perfect in this hidden kingdom.
“Nah,” I say. “I’m American, remember? We don’t really do that whole…royalty thing.”
I make air quotes around those words and make a face, and Isak chuckles in return. It feels good to lighten his mood, even if just a little, after everything he’s done for me.
Once the dishes are clean, he leads me to the living room couch and pulls it out to create a slightly uneven bed.
