Page 96 of Storm of Fury
Bryn seized the precious piece of parchment. With this, she could clear her name and return to the golden halls of Valhalla. She would be able to return home—finally home—where she could wash the misery of this mortal existence from her skin and forget it forever.
Forget him.
Her smile faltered. And her mind chose that moment to betray her, casting her back into a memory of the night before. Of heated hands and devouring kisses, and afterward, the smooth, gentle stroke of his fingers tracing circles in her hair.
“Better to have no heart,” she said, more to herself, “than to risk such weakness.”
“Indeed,” Solveig purred, running her long fingernails over the arm of the chair. “And such is why I have summoned you. I have another little task for you,”
Bryn tucked the piece of parchment within her shirt. “No. I’m done with such assignments.”
“You haven’t heard what it is.”
“I don’t need to. It has something to do with ensuring Prince Marduk doesn’t choose you, doesn’t it? Tormund told me all about it.”
The other female’s eyes narrowed. “He won’t choose me.”
“Are you really so certain?” Bryn took a slight amount of amusement from the look of consternation that flashed across the implacable Solveig’s face. “The pair of you share a history, and while I’ve heard a hint of it from his lips, I’m fairly certain I haven’t heard the full story. Nor the truth.”
“The prince values his balls,” Solveig snarled. “Hewon’tchoose me. And there’s nothing more to say about the past than that it is dead and buried.”
Bryn cocked her head. It was the first time she’d ever seen Solveig so discomfited.
“No,” she said, stepping away from the table. “I am done. Whatever lies between the two of you, only a fool would step in the middle of it.”
Solveig’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “There is nothing between us but vengeance and fury.”
“Then why are you so afraid of his choice? Surely, he will choose one of your sisters.”
Solveig’s lips thinned, and she turned toward the window. Restlessness rode her. “One would think so, yes. But I’m not the type of female who likes to dare fate. And Marduk has long been careless of my… my name.”
It wasn’t what the princess meant to say, Bryn was sure of it.
A heart is a treacherous beast, after all.
And though she had no further inkling of all that lay between the princess and the golden prince, she could see the truth of some of it written over the princess’s face. Nothing but a broken heart could produce quite that level of hatred.
And though the princess may not have loved him, some part of her had yearned.
“I’m sorry,” Bryn said quietly, “for I cannot help you.”
Solveig’s fingers tapped on the windowsill. “It is of little matter, Brightfeather,” she finally said, pasting a dark smile on her face as she turned. “As you say, I am sure he would not be so foolish as to choose me. And if he does, then I shall make him regret it.”
* * *
Bryn paused outside the tavern,staring up at the sky as her elation slowly died. Redemption burned in her hand. Hope. But also, a weight lingering on her shoulders. A distant reminder of the honor she’d once worn like a mantle.
She had what she’d come here for.
She could demand entrance to Valhalla and thrust the proof of her innocence in the face of her sisters. She could look Róta in the eye as she finally managed to repay her sister’s betrayal.
And then what?
Bryn looked down at the confession again, her hands starting to quiver.
She would have her name back. She would have her place in the Golden Host back. But every day she would look herself in the mirror and know that whilst she had been innocent of the charges laid upon her, she had lost her sense of honor in this mortal realm.
The job was finished, but her redemption was not complete.
