“Poison?” I whispered, rolling the remainder of the soup in my mouth and tasting for anything detectable.
Sigrid gave a tiny shake of her head. “He’s about to make a power play. If you react inany wayto whatever he’s about to do, I’ll kill you with this spoon.”
“How do you know?” He could see we were talking, but he wouldn’t be able to make out what we were saying from that end of the table.
“I know monsters. I know that look when they think they’re about to toy with their meal. I will not be toyed with.Youwill not be toyed with. Do you hear me?”
I nudged her knee under the table with mine. “Would it kill you to just say ‘we’?Wewill not be toyed with.”
She sighed heavily, setting her spoon down when the servant reached to take the bowl and bring us the next course. Instead a guard approached my father and offered him a long-handled knife. From this distance, I couldn’t quite tell what it was, but the handle was shaped into something.
Sigrid tilted her head when she saw it, and the king’s smile lifted higher in response. They were locked in a silent conversation, and I didn’t understand what was happening. Were we in danger? He didn’t typically do his own dirty work, but a weapon couldn’t be a good sign.
I looked at the guards again, trying to mark which one I’d disarm to take a blade.
“Thank you for bringing this unique treasure to my attention, Princess. Would you care to tell me what it does?”
Sigrid took a dainty sip of wine. “It’s an old family relic.” Her fingers absently stroked the thin band of metal around her neck.
My father’s eyes tracked the movement. “You think it can sever the leash between us?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully.
I jerked my head to look at Sigrid. Was there such an object?
He held the knife up so I could see it more clearly. The handle was shaped like a raven, and Viking runes had been stamped into the blade. “Do you know the story of Odin’s ravens, boy?”
I shook my head, fighting to breathe normally as I waited for the axe to drop. Whatever story he was about to tell would have an ending we didn’t like.
“Huginn and Muninn fly throughout the world, then whisper to Odin upon their return of all that they saw. I have some little ravens of my own, you know. Ravens who’ve been whispering interesting tales today.”
Sigrid was perfectly calm. Her shoulders relaxed and her breathing even. I was certain she knew what he was about to reveal.
Two platters with domed silver lids were set in front of me and Sigrid, but nothing was put before my father.
Sigrid reached for one of the lids, but I whispered, “Don’t lift it!” From the smile on my father’s face, we weren’t going to like whatever was beneath. I feared it was some part of one of her brothers or Thorin’s mate.
Sigrid gritted her teeth angrily. “Which part of ‘you will not be toyed with’ was unclear?”
She smiled at my father like she was eager for the next course and removed the lid with a flourish before handing it to the servant.
In the middle of the silver plate lay a human eyeball, grotesque and still leaking fluids. I’d been in enough battles that I had a strong stomach for gore, but something about an eyeball on a dinner plate made me want to shove my chair back and vomit.
I locked down every muscle in my body and forced my expression to go blank. I thought of the sea, of a billowing sail, of waves crashing against the rocks. Anything neutral to wipe the impact of that sightless amber eye from my mind.
An eye with amber pupils. I’d only ever known one person with eyes that color: Father Benedict.
The king steepled his fingers in front of him on the table, letting his smile drop. “One of my little ravens whispered that another raven had found a new master, that he planned to steal from me and fly back to her.”
The room felt unsteady, and blood rushed in my ears. The tension felt ready to snap, and I still didn’t understand what was happening.
Father Benedict was one of my father’s most loyal dogs, but Sigrid had somehow convinced him to steal this relic? That must’ve been where she’d gone the night before when she disappeared.
Sigrid looked over at my father with a huge genuine smile. “Majesty, you spoil me with such a rare delicacy!” She picked up her utensils, stabbed the fork into the eyeball, and sliced straight through the middle of it with the knife.
When the eye made a popping noise, the king jerked so violently that he knocked his wine glass over, and a servant ran to mop it up before it reached his robes. My father’s smile dropped, replaced by a look of utter horror—horror that turned to dread as Sigrid picked up a dripping chunk of eyeball on her fork and paused to inspect it.
She won’t.
She can’t.
