“Shouldn’t you be training?” Sigrid said in a bored tone.
The sight of the dagger that close to the delicate skin of her throat made my stomach turn. “Noticed my knife was gone and assumed you’d taken it.”
She narrowed her eyes at Eleanor. “Never suspected your Saxon flower, did you? I think she even surprised herself.”
Eleanor lowered the blade until it pricked Sigrid’s chest. “You said you were going to kill him! I’ll kill you first.”
How had this gotten so completely out of hand? Eleanor had never raised her voice before, far less a lethal weapon. Sigrid had been goading her, like she wanted to see Eleanor snap.
“Eleanor, put it down. I don’t need you to defend me.” When she didn’t move, I raised a pleading hand. “Sigrid, don’t hurt her!”
Eleanor bristled. “She’s not going to hurt anyone ever again. I’m ending this!” Her hand trembled.
I kept my focus where it needed to be. “Sigrid, I’m begging you.”
I was willing to drop to my knees if it prevented bloodshed. I’d seen the bleak, haunted look in Sigrid’s eyes when Eleanor had laid the blame for her brother’s death at Sigrid’s feet. My wife wasn’t as immune to guilt as she wanted us to believe. There was no scenario where she’d be able to convince herself that maiming Eleanor was justified.
Sigrid rolled her eyes. “I’m the one with a knife to my chest, and I’m still somehow the threatening one?”
I pinned her with a stare. She could’ve been tied up and blindfolded, and I still would’ve been confident in her ability to handle the situation. If she’d just stop pouring fuel on the fire, I could get Eleanor to see reason.
Sigrid gave a long-suffering sigh. “For fuck’s sake, they don’t even teach you to hold a blade correctly. Turn it over. If you hold it like that, all I have to do is apply some pressure and your wrist will give.”
She demonstrated by pushing lightly on the tip of the blade. When Eleanor’s wrist buckled, Sigrid grasped it to rotate the angle Eleanor was holding the knife and pushed to demonstrate how much more stable it was. “There—much better. Now, where were you planning to stab?” Eleanor placed the blade just below Sigrid’s breasts. Sigrid’s brow creased. “The ribs? Absolutely not. Stabbing there takes experience and commitment you don’thave. Go for something softer or somewhere that bleeds more. The belly if you want it to hurt, but the throat if you want it to be fast.”
Eleanor moved her blade lower, to Sigrid’s stomach. I wanted to lunge between them, but it might spook Eleanor and cause the outcome I needed to prevent.
Sigrid gave her a delighted grin. “Want it to hurt, do you, girl?” Her eyes flicked to me. “I like this one.”
Eleanor looked between us with mounting confusion written plainly on her beautiful features.
Sigrid has that effect on people.
“Please put the weapon down, Eleanor. I promise she doesn’t really mean to kill me.”
Sigrid’s smile twisted into a snarl. “I made a vow and have every intention of fulfilling it.”
Eleanor’s grip on the knife tightened as she pressed it against Sigrid’s unprotected belly.
In a swift and relaxed movement, Sigrid knocked the dagger from Eleanor’s hand, flipped it in the air, and held the hilt before Eleanor had even registered the first part. “They really taught you nothing about wielding a weapon.”
Eleanor’s frustration began to show. “Women in our kingdom don’t run around stabbing people!”
Sigrid’s lowered the blade and handed it back to Eleanor. “One of the many things wrong with this place. You can leave us, Prince.”
It was my turn to look between them with dismay. “Not a chance. Lady Eleanor, I’ll walk you back to your quarters.”
Sigrid didn’t smile, but amusement flashed in her eyes as she watched to see what Eleanor would do.
Eleanor corrected her already-perfect posture and looked at me with a distant coolness I’d never seen from her before. “An escort won’t be necessary, Your Highness.”
Eleanor didn’t deign to look at Sigrid as she slipped quietly from the room.
“Is collecting enemies your grand plan?” I asked.
Sigrid pouted prettily. “I suppose you think I should be collecting friends. Gathering the relatives of the people I’ve slaughtered around me to make amends and heal together?”
Her expression mocked me, but she practically shook with tension. Asking a lioness to be a lamb and then letting the other lambs taunt her was asking for someone to be torn to pieces.
