Page 10 of Heart of Winter
Magnus met his gaze, and winked at him. “You’ll be fine, lad.”
Frustrated, flushing, Oliver faced forward again, and bit his tongue.
“It’s good you’ve come now,” Magnus continued, cheerfully, as they reached the top of the stairs and started down, “so everything can be sorted before the festival.”
As usual, Oliver’s offense was no match for his curiosity. “That would be the Midwinter Festival?” he asked, despite his intention to keep quiet.
“Aye. That’ll be the one. Know something about it, do you?”
“Oh, well, I’ve done some reading–”
“It’s no great secret. Been going on for centuries! Though I forget how many. I was never much of one for reading,” Magnus confided as they reached the landing and started along the gallery that overlooked the great hall. A glance over the balustrade proved what the tumult of sound had already told him: that the fires roared, and men and women were sitting down at freshly set-up trestle tables.
Magnus continued, happy and oblivious, his voice loud enough to be heard above the ruckus of supper preparations below. “All the Northern kings and lords and chieftains from all the Northern kingdoms, and duchies, and clans come together for five days of feasting, and sporting, and contract negotiating. It’s a helluva thing. You ever been?”
“No.” Oliver didn’t say that being here in Aeres was the farthest he’d ever been from home – his only adventure, really, because he didn’t think stealing pies off windowsills with John as a boy counted as a real adventure.
“You should stay after you’re done with all your business,” Magnus said, clapping him on the shoulder, because that was just something men did here, he was realizing. “See if Erik will let you tag along with him and the lads. There’s nothing like it in the world.”
“Maybe let’s just get through supper first.”
Magnus roared with laughter, and clapped his shoulder again.
Ahead of them, Birger guided Tessa down the wide, central staircase with a delicacy that belied his size and weathered countenance. At the head of the room, the throne sat empty, and though Birger offered a wave and some unheard comment to the table of boisterous men who hailed him, he steered Tessa past the commotion, and down a side hall.
“We aren’t dining in here?” Oliver asked.
“No, no,” Magnus said as they followed, leaving behind the clatter and shouting and laughter of the great hall, passing intricate tapestries that Oliver hoped to be able to examine later. “By the end of the day, Erik’s pretty much done with humanity, and I can’t say I blame him.”
A pair of guards stood outside a set of double doors, and they moved in unison to open the way for them.
“Magnus,” Oliver said, quietly, “are you always so heavily armored inside the palace like this?”
“Oh, yeah, just standard procedure. Here we are.”
A private dining room awaited, dominated by a grand, carved table, a permanent fixture, rather than the trestles in the great hall. Its surface gleamed in the fire and candlelight, a blond wood full of lines and eyes, heavily varnished, like the high-backed chairs that ringed it. A buffet table already heaped with food stood along one wall, another loaded with stoppered bottles and flasks and all manner of cups.
Two chairs sat angled before the fire, fine Southern armchairs, Oliver noted, upholstered in crimson fabric, their backs draped with folded blankets and furs. A giant, shaggy dog lay stretched between them, and, seated in them, the princes, both of whom surged to their feet when they entered.
Magnus leaned in close, chuckling under his breath, and whispered, “Look at this pair of fools. You’d think they’d never seen a pretty girl before.”
“My lady,” Leif began, just as Rune said, “Good even–” and then trod upon the dog’s paw so that it yelped and jumped up, nearly sending him back down into his chair.
Oliver bit his lip hard to keep from grinning, and Magnus chuckled again – though warmly.
Leif managed to sidestep the flailing tangle of brother and dog and stepped up to Tessa, who was still holding on to Birger’s arm, but smiling at the prince, cheeks stained pink.
“My lady,” Leif repeated, and bowed. “Are you well?”
“Quite, thank you.”
“Oi – stupid–” The dog had apparently forgiven Rune and was licking at his face. Rune shoved it away, scrambled back to his feet, and drew up beside his brother so he could bow at Tessa, too. “My lady, are you settling in well?”
Tessa’s smile was serene, but Oliver recognized the laughter shining in her eyes. “Yes, quite well, thank you. My room is lovely.”
“I picked it out special, just for you,” Rune said.
Leif shot his brother a sideways look.
