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I want to take the words back as soon as they are out. I can’t remember the last time I spoke without thinking, let alone allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment this way. I need sleep, and warmth. And my sisters.
But his next words duly remind me that it will be a long time before I have any of those things.
“I guess you’ll find out.” He gives me a crooked grin, his eyes glinting with something sinister. “Or have you forgotten it’s nearly time for our wedding night?”
Chapter Seven
For the second time in an evening, I find myself off-kilter. I swallow, fighting to keep my expression pleasant for the courtiers.
“Shouldn’t we finish the feast?” My attempt at nonchalance falls flat.
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your enjoyment of the meal.” He shoots me a phony smile, waving a hand toward the food I scarcely touched, like he knows I can’t stomach another bite.
All traces of my earlier hunger disappeared when the king pulled his blade on a man for an offense as innocuous as showing him up. For daring to care for what was his, whatever the motives.
“I was only thinking of our guests,” I try again, though I’m not sure why I bother postponing the inevitable.
“They’ll eat after we leave.” He says it like it’s obvious.
Perhaps it is, given the masks and his overdeveloped sense of authority.
“Well then, Husband, I see no sense in making them wait,” I say with a boldness I don’t feel, then stand from the table.
Even if I was hungry, I couldn’t sit here in good conscience and stuff my face while they watched with empty bellies.
Einar stares up at me for a moment before I see the smallest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Either he knows I’m bluffing, or he’s pleased with himself and where he imagines this night going. Regardless, he follows suit and stands next to me.
A thud sounds, followed by another and another until every beaked figure at the tables before us is slamming their fists down on the table. Cheers erupt, and they stand and beat their chests with the same fists, while the veiled figures applaud.
I raise my glass back to them and chug the contents in one go. If I’m going to endure this, I might as well have a drink first...or several.
Neither of us speaks after that. An endless walk up a large staircase and down three hallways with nothing adorning their walls finally leads us to a large set of doors.
The engravings on the dark wood offer some of the only adornments I’ve seen in the entire castle. I wonder if the carver had meant for it to sit in a palace far more lovely than this bleak prison.
Two large guards open the massive doors for us. If I thought that Einar dwarfed me, he seems average compared to the men who are protecting the room. That shouldn’t surprise me, given their reputation of being a warrior people, but I’m still getting used to being the shortest person in the castle.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he says in his deep, growling voice.
“Do hurry...” I respond through gritted teeth.
The words are right, even if the tone is all wrong. His glacial stare meets mine as he leans in to place a mocking kiss on my hand.
“I wouldn’t dream of making you wait,” he adds before turning to leave.
I wait to hear the click of the door closing before I collapse in front of the blazing fire in the center of the room. I can hardly breathe for the weight of the day, and the worst part isn’t even over.
At least I can finally kick off my damp shoes and burrow my feet into the plush white fur rug. Pain seeps in as they begin to thaw, but there is warmth as well.
My trunks are here and opened, the colorful fabrics in such sharp contrast to the monotony of the room that I suddenly find it unbearable. I’d rather not be reminded of home right now. Of anything personal.
My eyes flit to the rustic table nearby. A decanter and two glasses sit upon it. I lean over and grab the decanter, pouring a few drops of the amber liquid into a glass. Swirling it around, I take a sniff before dipping my pinkie finger into it and bringing the drop to my lips.
It burns, but no more than ordinary alcohol. Between my rapidly fraying nerves and the chill I can’t seem to dispel, I am desperate enough to actually want some. I take a small sip, then wait a few minutes. Nothing.
Another sip and I finally feel the heady warmth of the alcohol beginning to work its way through me, numbing me, just like I need it to. With some relief, I pour myself a heavy dose of the amber liquid and drink it down before I can even feel the whiskey burning at the back of my throat.
Liquid courage is all I can count on to get me through this night, so I go ahead and fill it up a second time.
