Page 24 of Prize for the King
“No, I just… You and your methods are very different from what I expected. I was told a lot about you, but it seems little of that was true.”
Magnar huffs with amusement. “Tell me. I could use a distraction.”
I watch as the Agnidari guarding the city gate get to work opening it to let us pass. Many soldiers patrol the wall, their tall silhouettes dark against the blue sky. I am again impressed by the size of Magnar’s army.
“Well, for example, you eat rotten meat, often human, and your breath stinks of it. I suppose I haven’t seen what you dine on, but at least your mouth doesn’t reek.”
His chest vibrates against the back of my head, and I hear his quiet laughter. “Human meat? No offense, darling, but it sounds disgusting. I’d gladlyeatparts of you and feed you parts of me, but that’s about it.”
I shiver, my hands clenching around the pommel. Before I get to ask what he means, the gate opens fully and we ride out. Magnar sighs.
“So much for distractions. Tell me more. Something really bad this time.”
I want to shift and squirm, Avinia’s words echoing in my head.They maim women.I don’t want to ask since it’s a shameful topic, but the fear of what will happen when we finally arrive at his keep swarms in my belly.
Truth is, I would have run if I had my horse. Without it, my chances seem dismal.
Gods.I’ll have to lie with him, won’t I?
“Iheardyoutearwomenopen.”
The riders spread into a wider formation as we leave the city gates behind us, covering the meadows stretching on each side of the road. Magnar urges the horse into a canter, the hooves quieter on thick grass.
“What was that?”
I bite my tongue, regretting I said it, after all. “No, nothing. I… Nothing.”
He’s silent as we ride, peaceful, late summer landscape rolling past. A dark forest looms in the east, and in the west, I see smoke curling above the abodes of the nearest village. I relax and try to forget about him, even though it’s difficult with his thick thighs bracketing my hips, his abdomen pressing to my back.
“Repeat what you said, darling,” he says when I’ve almost gotten carried away into a daydream of riding with a dashing, gold-haired knight.
“No,” I groan as my shoulders stiffen.
Magnar huffs but says nothing more, and for a while, we ride in silence, my backside brushing against his private areas with the horse’s every step. I can’t focus on my daydream, too aware of Magnar’s size and scent. He smells leathery and male, solid, with a hint of cloves when he sighs. A dashing blond knight would probably smell like flowers and vanilla—something pleasant andsafe.
“Come on,” he says about half an hour later when my thighs begin to cramp from being spread wide open on the enormous steed’s back. “Tell me. It’s important, isn’t it? We need to speak about important things, dear.”
“You won’t let it go, will you?” I ask in exasperation, the cramping in my muscles fueling my annoyance. “Fine! I heard you tear women open.”
“Ah.”
He stays quiet, and I clench my teeth, his silence fueling my fear. Is he silent because what Avinia told me istrue?
“That won’t happen to you,” Magnar says at last, his voice grave. “Don’t be afraid.”
My stomach plummets with foreboding. “So… Itcanhappen.”
“No,” he says instantly. “There are measures, precautions to make it safe. We’ll take them. But even without those, it happens very rarely. We, that is, Agnidari men—are well-endowed. But the bodies of human females adapt easily. You’ll be fine. Hopefully better than fine.”
I am not reassured, and when something hard pokes my backside, and I realize what it is thanks to his earlier crude remarks, my anxiety grows. Magnar grunts, shifting in the saddle, but it doesn’t make his mishap go away.
“All right, I know you feel it,” he says after a moment, his accent stronger, like his teeth are clenched. “You were supposed to distract me, little prize. Instead, you made me think of all the things I can’t have for days to come.”
I swallow with difficulty, wanting to ask him so many questions about this. What precautions does he mean? What things is he thinking right now to make his body harden? I know I wasn’t squirming, so it’s not that. Maybe it’s thestimulationof riding?
Why is he so fixated on our belated wedding night? I am but means to an end, and marriage consummation is nothing but one more necessary step to make our wedding fully binding. Is he impatient because of that?
“I also heard you bathe in animal waste for religious reasons,” I say instead, hoping to give him the distraction he needs.
