Page 17 of Heart of Winter
Erik’s face did something strange: his lips tightened, and his gaze narrowed, and – maybe it was a trick of the flickering candle flames, but it looked like the color heightened along his sharp cheekbones.
Birger chuckled again. “Don’t worry so much. It’s up to the lady. She can have whichever she chooses, I assume?”
“Leif is more ready to be a duke,” Erik said, then nodded. “But, yeah, she can choose. No one should have to be forced into a marriage they hate.”
A simple, though rare sentiment, one that Oliver himself had expressed just a few hours ago at supper. Hearing it from Erik warmed him all over in a flash, like he’d just had a few more sips of mistress.
Erik’s gaze shifted toward the doorway, and Oliver held his breath, afraid he’d been caught. But Erik only stared into the middle distance, toward the tapestry on the corridor wall, shaking his head absently. His eyes were jewel-bright, the color of them in the low light sending a tight spasm through Oliver’s chest. “Some days, I think…” he murmured, and trailed off.
“No, lad,” Birger said, his tone kind. “You’re a good king. And, more important, a good man. Never doubt that.”
Oliver slipped away, after that, face warm for reasons he couldn’t entirely blame on being tipsy. He worked his slow, silent way upstairs, found his room, slipped inside, and undressed without ceremony.
The bed had been turned down, ready for him, the sheets soft and sweet-smelling when he slid between them.
Sleep rolled in quick, a sudden fog, and he dreamed of blue eyes, and strong hands.
6
The drink Magnus had given him was called mistress for good reason, Oliver realized the next morning, when he woke with a throbbing headache and a foul taste in his mouth. Sweet in the moment, regrettable the next morning.
The sun was already well up, and he felt a lurch of having erred. He dragged himself out of bed, dressed, washed his face, combed his hair, and cleaned his teeth. Then went next door and tapped on Tessa’s door.
The maid from last night, Hilda, answered with a cheery, “Morning, Master Oliver.”
“Morning. Is this a bad time?”
“No, Ollie, come on in,” Tessa called.
She stood in the center of her borrowed room, the bed covered in fabric. Dresses, he realized, as she watched her lift one and hold it up to her chest, turning to inspect its color against her skin in the mirror. The crimson should have clashed with her hair, but it was a deep color, like wine, and trimmed in white: heavy, warm velvet with a high neckline and thick, quilted sleeves.
“Hilda noticed that most of my dresses weren’t warm enough for a Northern winter, so Lady Revna had these sent for me to wear. Look, they’ve all got built in underskirts to keep the wind off, and some are divided for riding.”
“That was kind of her.”
“It was.”
Tessa folded the dress over her arm and turned to him, her expression one of resolve.
“What?”
“I like them,” she said, a soft declaration.
He felt his brows go up. “All right.”
“You look surprised.”
“That’s because I am. Yesterday was…a lot.”
“It was,” she agreed, smoothing her hand absently down the dress, brushing the nap of the velvet up and then down, her expression contemplative. “But we were offered shelter, good food, and warm beds. We weren’t thrown out on the doorstep.”
This surprised him, and his head was throbbing a bit too much for surprise. He sank down to sit on the chest at the foot of the bed. “Did you expect us to be?”
“I heard the rumors, back home.” She sent him a serious look, one that reminded him, painfully, that, though he would always think of her as a little girl, gripping at his coat sleeves and asking to be carried on his shoulders, she was no longer a child. Somewhere along the way she’d become a young woman, and, he further realized, as she spoke, not one entirely innocent of the harshness of the world. “I heard that King Erik was a barbarous and dangerous man. Ill-tempered. That he drank the blood of reindeer to keep warm in winter, and lived in a cave.”
Behind them, Hilda tittered to herself as she puttered about the room, and Tessa flicked a rueful smile.
“Silly, childish rumors, I know, but they frightened me a little. None of the books in the library could quite agree on Aeres. Father’s stories were reassuring, but then, Father was often overly polite.”
