Page 27 of Winter Gods & Serpents

She suppressed a giggle, snidely adding, “Oh, most definitely a gentleman of the finest.” Her embroidery hoop had flawless needlework from corner to corner, intricate patterns of flowers and colourful threads delightfully enhancing her precision. Her posture unstirred, not a crease in her modest navy gown, hair propped up not a single stand out of place.

“I might need to take a lesson or two from you on how to handle myself,” I said unfolding my legs that had creased my dress, and straightening the loose hair falling madly over my shoulder.

“You have the most beautiful hair it would be a shame to not flaunt it.” She halted, her lips pursed back as her hand gently touched the surface of her crown. “Three servants check my bearings before I leave the house, fathers orders, not to bring shame to the Modr house. It is a shame already that he was blessed with only a daughter.”

Isjord and their politics, views, restriction, and dislike of women, never seized to draw a reaction from me. Once, I’d witnessed a father bring his daughter in audience with the Lord of Kirkwall asking to have her flogged for rejecting a marriage offer herself and losing him the lucrative bride price the elder merchant had offered for her hand. From what Alaric had told me regarding Kalius Modr, he was at the top of the list in ranks of small-minded bigots here in Isjord.

I studied her for a moment, the bravery of her dislike without feel of fear and dared ask, “What is your biggest wish, Freja?”

She blinked surprised at my question, pursing for a few seconds in thought. “Living my barren life one has so many. Run…run far away,” she answered lost in pondering. “Or someway to buy my freedom, be where I want, with whom I want as far away from here. Uhm—”

“Your husband,” I said, moving a teaspoon over my neck.

Her eyes shot wide with bright with sparkles of eager, and she grinned before adding, “My father too.”

Be careful what you wish for; should gods not listen, a princess with a dagger certainly might.

A smirk twitched in my lips. “Isjordians don’t make for the best paternal figures, do they? From one with a crap father to another, don’t we all have the same wish.” Complete sincerity coming from the one pawned by her own father to her family’s killer for an agreement.

“Your problem is worse than mine, your father,” she said looking around before leaning in and whispering, “is the king.”

I leaned in close to her whispering back, “He is also made of flesh and bones, dear.”

She blinked blankly before leaning back in her chair taking a deep breath. “Wishes, right?”

I gave her a smile. “Good thing they belong in a well or a fountain.”

“Good thing they do,” she said raising her teacup in a toast.

I toasted my cup to her. “I believe you and I will be great friends.” I had a ship to take down and mine happened to be a galley. Heavy timber was heard to sink, but this ship already had holes.

* * *

Light had faded, the greyish corridors were dimly lit by the reflecting crystal chandeliers that swayed just lightly when the current circulating hit them. Eerie as the rest of the castle, they resembled spirits. Pay enough mind and you could convince your thoughts they were. Pay enough mind and the whole of Isjord would convince a saint they were resting in one of the seven hells.

“What are you gloating about in your head, sparks are almost flying out of your mischievous eyes,” Nia said walking in step beside me.

I let my face wear the amusement of my thoughts and she scornfully clicked her tongue at me.

“Nia, how many heads does Winter court have?”

She halted, brows pinched in all confusion. “Well, eight lords, three generals and the Bruma commander. Twelve?”

“What is wrong with a galley ship?”

She then blinked lost. “I have a feeling you will soon tell me.”

“It needs oars to sail,” I said, doing a rowing motion which she followed with a cringe. “If one oar isn’t working or compromised the chain link is broken, now imagine if several oars don’t work or are compromised.” Emphasis on compromised.

“I am being tested now on… ships? At least make the lecture a bit longer or understandable, or use a less horrible metaphor for another horrible plan of yours.”

I grabbed onto her fluffy cheeks with both hands and she struggled away from me. “The fate of the ship would be left to the wind, drown or worst, to the compromised.”

“How can they be compromised?” she muttered between pinched cheeks.

“An oar already despises my father, a possible one already likes me and another soon will be persuaded into liking me.”

“So…compromise the ship?