Page 37 of Clash of Storms
She didn't understand him at all.
The Blackfrost was the scourge of thedrekicourt, and even the most dangerous of Stellan's warriors stepped lightly around him. Fierce of temper and dark of mood, he made growndrekitremble with the faintest baring of his teeth. Malin had grown used to avoiding him at court, the same way she did for the other males of Stellan's coterie. When she'd heard of the betrothal her heart had trembled for poor Árdís. What woman would want to be tied to adrekilike that forever?
But Malin couldn't deny the events of the last two days.
Sirius had told his father he'd torture the truth out of her, and she'd been so frightened, but instead he'd not laid a hand on her. He'd taken her with him, seen to her comfort, and if she were a worldlier woman, she'd have thought he was actually flirting with her yesterday with all his talk of empty beds andhearing a woman scream his name as he devoured her....
Malin sucked in a sharp breath of air, desperate to ignore the sudden prickling of her nipples, but his scent lingered in the furs, and no, it was all over her skin too. She couldn't escape it.
Nor could she escape the truth.
The prince with his black, black heart and sculpted dark looks, got to her in a way nodrekihad ever gotten to her.
"Perhaps, if you're so curious about my bed, you should invite me into yours...."
Those words had haunted her all night.
Malin couldn't take it anymore. She threw the furs back and clambered to her feet, brushing her skirts into place. The chill hit her instantly, but at least she could pretend it was the cold that had her skin all flushed and her nipples hard.
"Sirius?" she whispered, looking around.
A light blanketing of fog surrounded the small valley where they'd made camp. No sign of a certain blackhearteddrekiwarlord.
Perhaps he'd left her there?
Maybe he's merely scouting?
She glanced up at the skies, but the fog was too pervasive. Probably a good thing, because if she couldn't see a damned thing, then nothing in the sky could see her either.
Malin washed her face in the river. Where the hell was he? She didn't think he'd left her there, as his horse grazed at the edge of the camp. There was no sign of the fire, and his evil black stallion eyed her with a surly expression as it shifted its weight from hoof to hoof.
But then, he didn't really need a horse, did he?
Unlike her.
The dull ache of a long-buried hurt stabbed her like a blunt blade, but she pushed it aside. Maybe the prince had finally grown weary of tormenting her and taken to the skies in his search for his betrothed. Perhaps he'd left her the horse, knowing her only other option was her two feet.
Maybe she'd be able to sleep better tonight, without an enormousdrekiprince breathing down her neck? Literally.
Water splashed upstream.
Malin turned in that direction, her heart quickening.
Maybe he hadn't left her, after all, but was merely filling the water canteens or washing his own face.
She didn't know whether she was relieved he was still here—or vexed.
One way to find out.
She'd played her role at court cleverly, avoiding the more dangerousdreki, but she'd never backed down, nor had she whimpered. She wasn't about to start now.
Gathering her skirts, Malin made her way upstream. They were going to have a little discussion about this misadventure and her part in it. The flight from Hekla had turned her life into pure chaos, but she'd been thinking. She was no longer content to play mere guide—or whatever role Sirius saw her fulfilling. Nor did she intend on returning to Hekla. They were heading for Krafla, after all, which was Prince Rurik's territory, and—
A dark shape suddenly formed ahead of her, and Malin froze as she finally worked out what she was seeing.
The Blackfrost was not washing his face, nor was he refilling the water skin.
He was washingeverything.
