Page 5 of Master of Storms
This entire affair was a trap, and he’d walked into it blithely, with his eyes closed.
“You’re needed for the signing of a treaty,” he said, pitching his voice high enough to mimic his mother’s. “Just smile and shake hands, Marduk. Sign with a flourish. Charm our new allies.” He shot Niels a sharp look as he dropped the falsetto. “It’s strange, Niels, but I could have sworn there was a gleam in Harald’s eye when he introduced his daughters. Allthreeof them. He practically gift wrapped them too. What’s going on?”
Thedrekiambassador picked up his cloak and began to fold it. “TheZiniclan is forging an alliance with theSadu.”
“How?” His voice became steel. “Preciselyhoware we forging an alliance?”
Niels arched a cool brow. “Your mother assured us you would be key to securing this treaty—”
“I knew it.” He curled his right hand into a fist. “No. I will not mate with a female I’ve only just met! I never agreed to this. My mother presumes too much.”
The seneschal gave a little smile.
Marduk chased after it. “What? What was all that about? Did you not hear me? I said I won’t do it.”
“You didn’t ask which one it was.”
He’d been expecting protestations of “but the treaty” or “serve your clan.” He’d been prepared for such arguments too.
Except this one caught him at an odd angle.
It was bait.
Bait dressed in a fine gown, with a head full of braids and a smile of white, perfect teeth. Or more to the point…. Bait dressed in slick leather with a cloak of raven feathers, and a golden circlet resting on its brow.
And he couldn’t resist taking it. “Which one?”
Niels tucked the folded cloak within his traveling chest. “I believe… you’ll have to figure that out for yourself. It’s to be your choice, though your mother has a preference.”
“You crafty old bastard.” The seneschal had served at his father’s side for years. He knew Marduk’s nature almost as well as the prince himself. “Fine. I will work it out. But the answer’s still no.”
“We shall see,” Niels mused as Marduk paced to the windows.
He twitched the curtains aside, and there she was, staring down from distant battlements with her raven-black hair streaming behind her, and her plain, ringless hands resting on the stone as she glared into the winds.
What a curious creature.
Not even half as pretty as her sisters, nor as sweet, but she’d still somehow managed to drive the breath from Marduk’s lungs the second he’d kissed her hand. For a moment he’d heard the wind howling through foreign chasms, begging him to join it. Thedrekiwithin him had wanted to spread its wings and chase after her, knowing that she was the wind and it danced to her tune.
Such an unusual feeling.
Because the second he’d frozen there, looking up at her with his lips still pressed to her skin, she’d torn her hand from his, her expression glacial.
“Not that one,” Niels murmured, tugging the curtain closed. “That one is bidding to become Harald’s war marshal. Powerful. Fierce. Uncontrollable. Your mother wishes you to make an alliance. Not war.”
The blonde then.
Or the redhead.
Marduk rubbed at his knuckles, glancing back toward the window. “Why would you say mating such a female would be war?”
“Because, my prince, they call her the Storm with Teeth, and I daresay from her warm welcome this afternoon, she is hardly inclined to submit to your proposal. Choose one of the others. They’re pretty girls. Biddable. Kind.”
Biddable. Kind.He couldn’t think of two more unappealing words. So that was to be the play.Here, Marduk…. Here are two beautiful princesses. It will be your choice.
As if it was any sort of choice at all.
“I will… meet with them,” he replied, though he had no intention of taking either of them as his mate. “Harald cannot demand anything more than that, can he?”
