Page 58 of Heart of Winter
“No doubt,” Erik said, fondly, still smiling. Then sobered. “Why did you never speak of it before? If we’d known…”
Oliver shook his head. “Because I don’t like to be judged for it – no,” he said, when Erik started to protest. “I know that you would have. I turned up on your doorstep small and weak and short-haired and nothing like you Northmen. I didn’t need to add ‘sickly’ to your list of reasons for despising me on sight.”
Erik looked unimpressed. “I did not despise you on sight.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Do you presume to read my thoughts?”
“Er, no,” Oliver had to admit.
Erik nodded toward the bed. “This is why you never became a soldier.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not suggesting there’s any shame in that.”
Oliver realized he’d frowned, and smoothed his features.
“The world has plenty of soldiers – more than it needs.”
“Said the solider.”
Erik shrugged, a negligent, one-shouldered movement, dismissive. “It’s how I was brought up. It’s what I was bred for. What I’m good at. You are good at other things.” His gaze dropped to the book in Oliver’s hands.
He shut it, and showed Erik the cover. “Reading silly books in bed, apparently.”
Erik smiled when he read the title. The man smiled all the bloody time now, damn it. It was too distracting by half. “That was always my sister’s favorite as a girl.”
“Tessa’s too.”
“She used to tell us that she likedThe Battle of Evernightbest, but Arne found that tucked beneath her pillow, and she turned scarlet when he asked her about it.” His grin widened, one of fond remembrance. “She always wanted to keep up with us, to spar and climb trees; she rejected all of Mother’s efforts at making her a proper princess – Mother was from Veniscall, you understand.VerySouthern manners. Rev was embarrassed that we’d caught her reading, as she so eloquently put it, a ‘book for stupid girls.’” He shook his head. “Arne laughed, but I told her there was nothing stupid about the book, or girls. Or love. She was – and is – a great romantic at heart.”
Oliver couldn’t disagree, not after the prodding Revna had given him earlier, even if he refused to accept the idea that it wasloveshe was prodding him toward, love with her brother. “The boys’ father,” he began, carefully. “He’s…?”
Erik sighed. “Dead. Fifteen years now. Rune was only two.”
“Gods, that’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
“Torstan,” Erik said, wistfully. “He grew up with me. Tor, and Bjorn, and me, thick as thieves. We terrorized Aeres together,” he said, chuckling. “I didn’t realize he was moony-eyed over my sister for years. It was Revna who told me he’d asked for her hand. Then I…might have punched him in the mouth.”
Oliver snorted. “Of course you did, you great brute.”
“She was my little sister!” Erik protested, laughing. “I had to defend her honor.”
“I’m guessing she didn’t want it defended.”
“Not as much. She rather…beat me about the head and shoulders with a riding crop.”
Oliver laughed.
“She was on horseback at the time. She had the advantage,” Erik conceded, cheeks pink, grin wry. “In any event, I hadn’t knocked any of Tor’s teeth out, and they were wed in the spring.” It was a sad thing to watch his smile fade, and his remembered humor and joy along with it.
“What happened to him?” Oliver asked quietly.
“Set upon by Beserkirs. Father managed to broker a peace, afterward. But the perpetrators – them I slew myself.”
“I’m sorry,” Oliver said again.
