Page 137 of Clash of Storms
Sirius looked up sharply, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. He'd expected exile, at best.
A challenge to the death, if Rurik was feeling particularly merciless.
But not... not forgiveness.
"Rise, cousin."
The world spun around him, as the court broke into nervous applause.
"You may have to help me up." He'd aimed for mockery, but his voice sounded too low, too rough, to convey the right tone. Surely he hadn't heard the king correctly.Forgiveness?
To his surprise, Rurik offered him a hand.
"Cousin," the king said, with a faintly wicked smile.
They clasped forearms.
Sirius felt breathless, and bordering on the verge of an embarrassing display of emotion. "What are you doing?"
"The right thing," Rurik replied, with a regal tilt of his head. "The thing my father would have wished me to do."
"I still don't like you very much."
"Likewise. But I meant every word I said."
And as Sirius turned, the crowd cheered, and he almost felt his knees go out from under him in pure shock.
30
True to her word, Princess Árdís assembled a mating ceremony the likes of which hadn't been seen in years.
The stars lit the night sky as the entire court turned out on the grassy slopes overlooking Hekla, and torches gleamed throughout the gathering. Trestle tables groaned beneath the burden of platters of food, and laughter filled the air.
Sirius heard and saw none of it. He waited impatiently, his fingers drumming against his thigh as the music grew louder.
"Relax," Andri muttered, by his side. "They're coming."
Easy for him to say.Hehadn't been waiting over ten years for this moment.
The crowd parted, revealing a pair gowned in pure gold. Soft gasps filled the air, and Sirius's heart skipped a beat.
Malin's father escorted her toward him, but he only had eyes for Malin.
The long waves of her red-brown hair cascaded down her back and she wore a flower crown. He recognized the golden gown as belonging to Árdís, and it had been hastily hemmed to fit Malin, but she glowed beneath the torchlight like the most radiant of queens. The curve of her smile stole his heart and his breath caught in his chest, until Sirius felt almost dizzy with it.
Then she was standing before him, and all he could see was her.
"Did you miss me?" Malin whispered, as they clasped hands.
"Every minute of the day. I thought about wringing Árdís's neck at least ten times."
"Don't be mad at her. She's set up a very lovely silk tent on the edge of the grass for us."
"Mmm." He leaned down, brushing his lips against her temple. "Precisely where is this tent?"
Malin's eyes sparkled. "I'll tell you once you've danced with me."
As lore master of the clan, it was Sigurd who bound their hands together with a strip of red silk and began intoning the ancient phrases.
