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Einar and I both turn to see the results. The final star wedges itself between the other two, sinking a solid inch deep into the sturdy wood.
Raucous approval meets our ears, but I have eyes only for the king. For the expression that is tinged with awe, with satisfaction, even, but not the slightest hint of shock.
I should be worried, but I am high on the energy of the crowd, the win, the way that for the first time in as long as I can remember, I didn’t have to hold a part of myself back to make someone else feel larger.
“What does the lady claim as her reward?” the grizzled man in charge of the booth asks.
The people’s enthusiasm is contagious, and that’s the only excuse I have for what I do next.
“I think a kiss from the king should just about do it.”
They roar their approval, and I tell myself that’s why I did it. For the people, for the show we’ve put on all day, to gain favor with them and him both.
It’s not because I see myself mirrored in the man across from me. Not because I think he sees it, too, and isn’t shying away from it, isn’t emasculated by it. It’s certainly not the way he looked while throwing that axe.
Besides, surely this gesture will be as empty as the first.
In the end, I tell myself a thousand different things, but I know every one of them to be a lie.
I meet his gaze with the same challenging expression he always has for me.
Your move.
The cocky look he gives me is all the warning I have before he puts his enormous hands around my waist and pulls me toward him, lifting me up until our faces are level, then pressing his lips heartily against mine.
I have a second to register that they are the warmest thing at this entire festival, warmer even than the raised bowls of stones, before he sets me down again.
“To the king and his lady!” The man at the booth leads a cheer, but I hardly hear it.
All I make out is Einar’s voice in my ear.
“Your cheeks are red.”
“It’s freezing out here,” I murmur back, though we both know the temperature hasn’t changed in the last minute.
“Of course. How silly of me to not have noticed the sudden gale,” he calls me out.
I open my mouth to deny his implication, but then I see something that makes me freeze in my tracks, effectively eradicating every last vestige of amusement.
The face turns to disappear before I can look twice, but it doesn’t matter. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach.
No.
But the denial sounds weak even in my head, because I would know that shaggy black hair anywhere.
I try to follow the figure with my eyes, but he is a master of blending in, better even than the sister who has been on my mind so much today.
The villagers have come to congratulate Einar, and though they are becoming accustomed to me, it is their king they wish to see. It’s an easy manner to slip away and make my way through the rapidly dispersing crowd.
I weave through the people in a zigzag fashion, both to better spot the man and in an effort to lose Gunnar. When I still don’t spot him, I duck behind tents and booths, in between the large carts of the vendors, but all of my efforts are fruitless.
He’s gone.
Khijhana mews, as if she’s wondering why we’re chasing after a shadow.
Part of me is wondering the same. Surely, if it washim, he would’ve made himself known.
“Is everything all right?” Einar’s deep voice sounds behind me.
