Page 37 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen
“Oh, come on! He’s gorgeous …”
This conversation was going nowhere fast. Kolfinna pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed out deeply while the two females argued with one another—Astrid going on about how impressive Agnarr was, and Yrsa poking fun at her at how ridiculous she sounded. This version of Agnarr, the one where someone was pining after his looks, was completely different than the brutish man she had met yesterday.
“What is he like?” she asked instead. “Not his looks, or whatever. Like is he strict?”
“Hm.” Astrid tapped her chin thoughtfully. The fortress loomed even closer now, its tall stone walls casting long shadows over the town. “He’s the most powerful among the generals, though some would say General Freyja is his equal. I haven’t heard of him being strict. General Freyja, on the other hand, is very disciplined and strict with her soldiers. I think whencompared to her, his army seems a bit lax. Well, you had dinner with him. What was your impression like? I’ve only seen him from afar.”
Kolfinna frowned as she remembered yesterday’s dinner. “He seemed rough. Oh, and he and Freyja seemed to absolutely despise one another.”
“Oh, everyone knows about that.” She laughed softly. “Apparently, they had training classes together back at the Black Castle when they were younger. I heard they were rivals back then, and it just continued from there.”
The Black Castle was what the fae called the Eventyrslot ruins. Just hearing the name made her spine stiffen at the familiarity of it. She was suddenly reminded of her time there with Blár, Eyfura, Magni, and the others. A pang shot through her chest.
She didn’t have time to ask any more questions because once they entered the fortress, a fae soldier with bright orange wings led them to a private, rectangular courtyard with a few barren trees along the perimeter and a dusty field in the center. There were benches on one side, and Rakel sat primly on one of them, her metal staff resting across her lap. When she spotted them, she raised her hand in a wave.
“Good morning, General Rakel,” Astrid said cheerily as they stopped in front of the worn wooden seats.
“Good morning,” Yrsa greeted, straightening.
“Morning to you all.” Rakel ran her deft fingers over the metal shaft of her staff. “You both are dismissed for the hour. Go have breakfast, or take a break somewhere.”
“Thank you,” they both said in unison, but Kolfinna could see the disappointment on Astrid’s face—she really wanted to see General Agnarr, it seemed. A smile tugged on her lips as they both sauntered off the courtyard.
“Agnarr isn’t here yet,” Rakel answered when the silence between them stretched too much. “We’ll just have to wait. I knocked on his door this morning, but either he ignored me, he slept through it, or he slept elsewhere. I have no clue.” She narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t look so pleased to hear that. If he doesn’t show up, then you’ll have to train with me.”
Kolfinna’s smile faded into a scowl and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you even have it with you? TheDød Sværd?Or will I train in another way?”
“Commander Alfaer will bring it later.”
That was … somewhat of a relief. The longer she didn’t have to touch that cursed sword, the better.
“Ah. There he is,” Rakel said, rising up to her feet.
Kolfinna turned to find Agnarr wandering toward them. He was dressed the same as yesterday, in dark leathers that hugged his impressive build and black scaly armor. He was definitely the tallest, and most muscular, man she had ever seen. When he stopped in front of them, she noticed a budding reddish bruise on his cheek and a split lip.
Her eyes widened at the feature; so ithadn’tbeen an empty threat when Freyja had said she would beat his mouth into a bloody pulp.
“Wow.” Rakel must have been thinking the same thing because she sucked in her lower lip to keep from cackling. “Freyja sure did a number on you.”
Agnarr touched his cheek with a scowl, as if he had forgotten about it. “It’s not my style to beat down a woman, so … there’s that.”
“That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard,” Rakel snorted. “Anyway, I hope you didn’t do a number on her?”
His frown shifted into a sharp grin. “You could say that.”
“Agnarr—”
He turned his attention down to Kolfinna, his emerald-like eyes narrowing on her as he canted his head, examining her from head to toe. “You’re smaller up close.”
Smallwas never a word people used to describe her. But she supposed everyone appeared small to him.
“Let’s warm up first,” he said, jerking a chin toward the field. “If you want to wield theDød Sværdyou need to be at a certain threshold of strength, or else the sword will just control you.”
“How are we going to warm up?” Kolfinna followed him a few feet away from the benches, casting a quick glance at Rakel who watched them with mild interest. Her hands grew clammy so close to the stranger; thankfully, he didn’t seem as rough and brutish as yesterday. “Do you want me to run laps?”
“No.” He balled his hands into fists and assumed a fighting position—one that she had never seen before. He waved her forward with a finger. “Let’s spar. No magic.”
She hesitated. Would he hurt her? Sure, he wasn’t glaring daggers at her like he had been yesterday, but it was clear he didn’t like her.
