He placed his mug back onto the table and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “When I said take as long as you need, I meant with her, not me.” Was he hiding a grin?
I felt a grin twitching my lips. “Why? When you’re such joyous company, I can hardly bear to pull myself away from you.”
One of his rare smiles finally made an appearance.
With a chuckle, I strode off. If only I could figure out a way to see Mikaela without Nanna supervising every second. In fact, I suspected Nanna would hug me and talk to me for a few minutes before detecting my ulterior motives for visiting and shooing me out of the nursery.
It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be in Romsdal long. Most likely, our quest here would end the same way it had at other places, with someone remembering when the chalice had once been within a Stavekirche or abbey before it had been moved to another secret location elsewhere in Norvegia.
The problem was that our time was running short, and the prospect of war loomed in the nigh future. With the spring thaw, we expected King Canute of neighboring Swaine to resume his efforts to take Norvegia’s throne. Hailing from Norvegia’s royal Oldenberg lineage, he believed he had more right to our country’s throne than Ansgar. We could only pray that Ansgar’s possession of the Sword of the Magi would deter Canute, but we didn’t know for certain.
More importantly, time was running out because Queen Elisbet—Queen Lis, as she preferred to be called—had started bleeding from a curse supposedly passed down to the firstborn daughters in the royal family. And it was believed the chalice could heal her.
We’d been unable to discover the relic to save King Ulrik. Now Torvald and I, like Ansgar, were growing more desperate. We’d failed one king and couldn’t fail another, especially Ansgar, who was like a brother to us.
As I wound through the passageways toward the wing of the castle reserved for the nursery, I picked up my pace. I was tempted to whistle the merry tune on the tip of my tongue. But I held it back, not wanting to alert anyone of my presence, especially Mikaela. I couldn’t give her the chance to hide before I saw her.
Upon reaching the door to the several chambers where the children spent most of their time, I paused, my mind returning to the many years I’d lived in these very rooms. Nanna had always been a mixture of firm and tender, never afraid to discipline her charges, but always showering us with genuine love.
While my memories of my mother had faded over the years, I did remember that I’d never felt the same unconditional acceptance and love from her that I did from Nanna. Most of the time, I’d felt as though I was some sort of prize that she’d given my father as a second son.
The other thing I remembered about my mother was that she’d worn a veil of sadness every bit as real as the veil she wore over her hair. Even when she’d smiled at me, the sadness had lingered in the tilt of her lips and in the shadows of her eyes.
In some ways, her passing from my life had freed me to love Nanna without any more worry of hurting my mother’s feelings.
Not bothering to knock, I cracked open the door and peeked inside. Two little blond-haired girls sat side by side on a bench in front of the hearth fire, one slightly taller than the other. Though their backs were facing me, I could see that both were already attired in simple but pretty tunics. And Mikaela stood behind them—her back also facing me—brushing the taller one’s hair.
She was in the middle of telling the girl something but paused. “Good morning, Nanna. I thought I told you to slumber later so that you can rid yourself of your chill.”
I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. “If only I could blame a chill for my sleeplessness last night.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and then cast me a glance, the brush halfway through the sheen of hair. My nieces swiveled as well, their eyes widening at the sight of me.
“Instead, I blame you for keeping me awake.” I flashed her a grin.
She cocked her head toward her charges, clearly warning me that I needed to keep my suggestive comments appropriate for innocent ears.
While I’d met my nephew, Bernhard’s oldest son, during my last visit, I couldn’t remember if his daughters had been born yet. Maybe one of them had been a babe.
“Dreams of you kept me awake,” I stated. “On-ly dreams.” I enunciated my words, although I wasn’t sure why since my nieces weren’t babbling infants. They had to be at least four and six years of age. Or maybe three and five. Surely old enough to talk.
Mikaela held up the brush like a weapon and started toward me. “Go away, Gunnar. I have no wish to see you any more today than I did yesterday.”
“You’ll be happy to know they were good dreams. Really good dreams.” Every dream about her was a really good dream, but from the way she was lifting the brush, as though she intended to beat me from the room, it was clear she wasn’t interested in hearing about my dreams or anything else.
When she was but a foot away, she stopped, brush at the ready. The brown of her eyes flashed with sparks of gold, the fires inside her easily combusting as usual, fires I took too much enjoyment in fanning. “You need to leave.” Her whisper was menacing. “This is highly inappropriate.”
“What’s inappropriate about me coming to give Nanna a hug and to meet my nieces?” I asked in a loud whisper.
“Really? You expect me to believe that’s why you’re here?” Her whisper dropped a notch, almost coming out a growl.
“Yes.” I cocked my brows in feigned innocence. “Don’t tell me you think I came here to visit you.”
Her mouth opened, but then her retort stalled.
“Oh,” I whispered, again loudly. “I guess you were secretly thinking about me and wishing I’d make an appearance.”
“No.” A flush crept into her cheeks. “That’s not true at all.”
I was right. She had been thinking about me. But she was stubborn and would never admit it. My gaze snagged on a gray-and-white cat curled up in a corner chair. “I see you still have Grumpy.”
“Happy.”
“Yes, I am happy now that I’m here with you.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was fighting back a smile. “No, his name is Happy.”
“Why, exactly, did you name him Happy?”
“Because he made me happy.”
“And . . . ?”
“That’s all.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from reminding her of her sweet declaration the day I’d delivered the kitten to this very room. I’m naming him Happy because you made me happy.
“Don’t say anything else.” Her whisper dropped in another warning.
I shrugged as if to demonstrate I had nothing else to say. “Also, why are we still whispering?”
She glanced over at the girls, who were watching our exchange, their eyes wide, their innocent ears still hearing every word. A burst of laughter escaped from Mikaela’s lips, but she caught it in her hand.
Immediately my nieces smiled, although tentatively. They obviously took their cues from Mikaela.
I hadn’t spent much time with Bernhard’s wife, Sofia. But during the times I’d visited previously, as well as last night, I’d surmised that she was nearly as conniving and cruel as Bernhard. I’d learned she’d lost several babies during childbirth but was expecting again. Apparently, Bernhard was determined to have a second son.