AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I resist the urge to glare at him.
“Obviously, you’re well-enough acquainted with it,” I mutter, noting the sour note of the drink on his breath.
He takes a deep breath through his nose but doesn't respond. I take a tiny sip of the brew, letting it linger on my tongue for a long moment before swallowing. It’s surprisingly smooth, if a bit sweet. It’s that last part that gives me pause.
I hold my breath for a moment, but there is no burning, no unexpected effects of any kind. Of course, it’s not doing much to keep out the cold, either. What I wouldn’t give for a cup of chai masala right about now, but I doubt the barbarian even knows what that is.
A fireplace roars in the opposite corner of the spacious room, but it offers no more warmth over here than my thin bridalwear does. I will myself not to shiver, not to show any weakness, but the idea of shedding even more clothing in this room is nearly as unappealing as the ritual itself.
Several tense minutes later, a servant arrives with a covered silver tureen. Einar slams his metal stein down on the table several times, causing the ale inside to slosh out. The sound is loud enough to get the attention of the room, and my insides seize.
“What is on that tray? Why is it just for us?”
Einar gives me a puzzling glance before speaking to the room in Jokithan. They all pound their fists on the table in agreement with his words, and that’s when my husband deigns to look in my direction.
“Are you ready?”
Is it my imagination, or does he look hopeful that I will decline?That’s all the incentive I need to lift my chin and answer in a strong, clear voice.
“Of course.”
The tray is placed in front of us, the lid removed to reveal...food. Just a bit of roasted fish and potatoes. He cuts a small bit of potato, then spears it with his knife before holding it out to me. I lean forward, taking the bite into my mouth and deftly removing it from the knife with my teeth before he can stab me.
His impassive gaze burns just a bit brighter while he watches me but remains otherwise unchanged. He stares for another moment, finally clearing his throat to remind me that it’s now my turn.
Well, then.
I reach for a knife as well, though it’s more like a dagger, and the handle was clearly designed for a hand much larger than my own.
“Can you use that?” The king raises his eyebrows, and I blink back a glare.
“You mean with my delicate constitution? I’m sure I’ll manage, as long as I don’t faint first.” I stab the end into a large chunk of potato with perhaps a bit more force than is strictly necessary, then lift it up to Einar’s lips. Well, his mouth, anyway.
Who can say where his actual lips are in all that mess.
He rolls his eyes, but dutifully plucks his bite off of my knife, baring his teeth in the process.
The room gives a polite smattering of applause, and the feeling of expectation begins to ebb away, but I don’t let my guard down just yet.
“So,” I ask cautiously, “is that it? There’s nothing else?”
“Not meeting your lofty expectations?” The king scrutinizes me for a moment, his brow lifting as he takes a gulp of ale.
I narrow my eyes but don’t rise to his bait.
“I was led to believe that we would bepartakingof... each other...” I lower my voice so only he can hear.
Einar’s eyes meet mine for a half second, and then he does the last thing I would have expected him to do.
He laughs.
Eyes crinkling and deep, baritone chuckles, all while I sit at his side, likely the butt of his joke.
Does this mean there is more?
“What did you call it?” he finally manages to ask.
“The partaking,” I say, then add somewhat defensively. “You know, that whole wedding ritual you didn’t bother cluing me in on.”
