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I had already written him to come here—without success, of course. But my sister was a different story. He might actually listen to her.
“You overestimate my power. Just because I played with him when we were children doesn’t mean he will respond.”
If that was the only reason, then she would be right. But there was more to it. When King Algar had his bastard son, a time of utter darkness had befallen his reign. As much as Algar was hated, his wife, the queen, had been respected and loved until she took her own life. Although I had no doubt that it was Algar’s cruelty that caused her death, not the boy that came from a forced relationship with a young noblewoman, many believed it was the humiliation of that bastard child that had caused the death of our queen. And so the doors of the North closed to that mistress and child. All but one—ours. My mother, in her endless kindness—always praying to the gods of love and forgiveness—had invited King Algar’s mistress and their bastard son, Rune, to gatherings and festivals at our castle. The age gap between Rune and myself had been too large for us to play together as children, but he was only a few years older than Henrike. My sister was more than taken by this strong-willed boy; she had spent a lot of time with him building forts in the woods and riding the wildest of our horses across the meadows.
“Will you still try?” I asked again. “If I can tell the nobles that Rune will meet with Mina in the South, they would be more inclined to openly meet with her as well.”
“They call him a monster and scare their children with his name to make them listen,” Henrike spat out. “What makes you think they will trust him? After all these years he’s fought against us?”
“Rune is as tired of the war as I am, and, unlike his father and useless half-brother, he is still a man of reason and honor. They might think him a monster, but they also know he is a man of his word. If Mina tells him it was his father who tried to kill her, it might be the last push he needs to finally turn his back on King Algar.”
Henrike huffed loudly and remained a moment longer, then made her way to the door, almost running into the first arriving nobleman—Lord Otter, the man Mina had called a pig on her birthday.
“I’ll do it for you,” she finally said, greeting Lord Otter with a slight bow. “But my faith remains the same, and it doesn’t lie with her.”
Then she left.
I stared after her, accidentally ignoring my first guest. Sometimes, during our relentless fights over her opinion of Mina, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. Mina was hated by some of her people, and most likely, King Algar would try to help another nobleman seize power in the South and blame us for the Rhine King’s death to form an alliance against us. If he was to be successful and I bet on the wrong horse, my estate and lands, along with every soul in them, would be wiped out.
But then the voice that had guided me my whole life took over again and tore me away from my doubts. I knew Mina. She wasn’t the spoiled and monstrous, weak woman people made her out to be. She had a kindness and strength in her even greater than her father’s. The memory of her grabbing that sword to die by my side was still fresh, as was the sweet taste of her lips and the feel of the rest of her body.
No. I believed in her as my queen, and, more importantly, as the woman I loved. She would make true on her promise to fight our enemies and keep her crown. She would convince her people that the Northern rebels weren’t the enemy. As things stood, she might be the only hope we truly had against King Algar’s dark plays. And only she could give me what every inch of my body craved more than anything else in this world.
Marrying her and making her mine forever.
