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“I don’t think so.” Hùisdean shrugged. “No one can know for sure, but they never had children together.”
“Yikes.” Wyn waggled his eyebrows dramatically. “That sounds disappointing for a marriage. What are your thoughts, Ayda?”
Ayda started laughing at the horrified look on Hùisdean’s face.
“I will melt your lips off,” he snapped at his brother, which only caused Wyn to flip some of his dark hair off his shoulder as his grin widened.
“You’re so sensitive all of a sudden, big brother.”
Hùisdean groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ayda had to admit that she was growing more comfortable in the brothers’ presence, especially after seeing a more casual side of Hùisdean with his brother around. Ayda took a little bit of pity on Hùisdean and started asking questions about Margaret again.
“Did people ever get upset that she so openly supported Norway?”
Hùisdean looked at her gratefully, his expression shifting to a warm smile that threatened to knock Ayda out of her chair.
“Over her lifetime, most of the magical populace understood Margaret’s convictions, but as time passed, the human citizens were less enthused that she still pledged allegiance to her birth soil. The elves didn’t care. They didn’t often meddle with the marriage beds of human monarchs.”
“How could she not?” Ayda interrupted Hùisdean. “It was her home! She worshipped the Norse gods, not the Scottish gods, yes?”
Hùisdean nodded. “When she died, most people assumed it was of natural causes. There were, however, myths that she had been poisoned. They were never substantiated, but there were two very different factions of opinion about Margaret at the time of her death. For the most part, however, she was deeply beloved and practically canonized in Norway. There are some small towns where you can still find her image depicted as a saint.”
Ayda got lost listening to Hùisdean's voice as he wove another tale of magic, spinning together the stories of the Shetland Islands. When he was finally done, Ayda had to practically shake herself awake from her stupor. Hùisdean came alive when he was telling stories, his passion for magic coming through in everything he said. He was as bright-eyed as she had ever seen him, moving his hands animatedly with each tale. Ayda flushed as she thought about those big hands and all that passion…
“Well,” Ayda stood up rather abruptly, “I’m hoping to lie down. Is there a place where I could?” Ayda trailed off and tried not to stare at the massive bed in the corner.
“Of course.” Wyn stood up. “I’ll show you to one of the guest suites. There are a few on the ship.”
“For all of the fancy parties you throw, I'm sure.” Ayda smiled.
Wyn chuckled. “Hùisdean doesn't like to share his space.”
“Excuse you,” Hùisdean scoffed. There was a look in his eyes that Ayda couldn't quite place. “I don't like guests. And I need the space.”
Wyn made a dramatic show of looking around at all the papers and books strewn about the cabin. “I wonder why that is.”
“Well, some of us believe the pursuit of knowledge is crucial to the study of magic.” Hùisdean plopped down in a chair in front of the fireplace. Ayda had to bite her tongue to avoid agreeing with him.
“This way,” Wyn escorted Ayda up the stairs to the deck. They crossed to the other side of the ship and descended another short staircase. An oil lamp lit the short hallway that had four doors on one side.
“You can take your pick.” Wyn motioned to the rooms. “They should all be ready for guests. If they’re not, give it a second. The magic warding on the room will sense guests and make up the room in a blink.”
“Thank you.” Ayda fidgeted with her hair. “I appreciate the hospitality, Your…Highness?” Ayda stumbled over the honorific and suddenly didn’t realize how to address Wyn.
He started laughing. “Oh, no. You can save the titles for my brother. He’s the eldest. I have a very vested interest in making sure that he never abdicates.”
Ayda chuckled. “You prefer sailing instead of sitting in on council meetings?”
Wyn beat his chest dramatically and started to head back towards the main deck. “Elves have Viking blood, Ayda.” He turned around on the last step, and his voice dropped an octave. “Some say that we were the first Vikings, descended straight from the gods themselves.” Goosebumps erupted over Ayda’s skin, and she fought the urge to cringe under Wyn’s intense stare.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Wyn shrugged. “I don’t know how close you and Hùisdean are—”
“Not at all.” Ayda was quick to interrupt. Her stomach started doing flips.
“Vikings take what they want, Ayda.” Wyn’s dark eyes started to glow. The air thickened with the scent of burnt magic. “It looks like Hùisdean left on a raid to Scotland and came back on a boat with exactly what he was looking for.”
Ayda’s stomach fell to her feet. She opened her mouth to protest, but Wyn was gone in a flash of dark smoke.
