“Sylvi, let’s go to Aaric’s af-hús,” Oili murmurs, wrapping her hand around Sylvi’s forearm and attempting to help her stand to her feet.
Sylvi slowly rises, though the tears that are swimming in her eyes, they don’t fall. Together, the four of us walk away from the gawking stares of the guests at the table. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters right now but Sylvi and her heart, her nearly broken heart.
Once we’re in the room, Runa places a wooden board against the door and bars anyone from entering. Right now, the only people that matter are in this room. Oili guides Sylvi over to a long wooden bench that I supposed serves as a sofa.
Oili sits on one side of Sylvi and I sit on the other, while Runa drags the wooden stool over to sit in front of us. Taking Sylvi’s hand, I look directly into her eyes. Licking my lips, I try to keep my voice from trembling, but it doesn’t work.
“It’s Gunnar,” I say.
Her eyes wide. She shakes her head, then shakes it again. “Nei,” she breathes.
“I am so sorry, sister,” I murmur.
“He is in Valhalla?” Oili asks.
Nodding my head slowly, I tell them how bravely he and Hagen fought. That they died a death of honor and loyalty to their brother, to me. By the end of my speech, I can no longer hold the tears back, they stream down my cheeks.
“Gunnar,” she whimpers, dropping her head.
Oili wraps her arms around her sister and I do the same, giving Sylvi all of the support and love that we can, knowing that none of it will ever ease her pain. We stay wrapped around one another for longer than we should, but I don’t mind, not at all.
Then, as if something lightens the air all around us, we slowly separate and take a deep breath. Sylvi’s eyes find mine and her lips turn up into a shaky smile.
“Thank you, Liv.”
“For?” I ask, feeling like I’m the one to blame, not the one to be thanked for anything at all.
“Coming straight here, telling me the truth, not hiding anything. I do appreciate it.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes again. “I wish that I didn’t have to tell you any of it, I wish that it hadn’t happened.”
“But it did.”
“Fiske?” Oili asks.
I debate lying to them versus telling them the truth. The demon that took over Fiske, it consumed him in a way where he wasn’t even the brother that they knew by the time he died. I open my mouth, then snap it closed, unsure of what to say.
Thankfully, Runa senses my dilemma and she tells them, in her own delicate way, what happened to their brother. I expect them to cry just as much for him as they did Gunnar and Hagen, but they don’t.
Oili is the one who speaks first. “Fiske wasn’t a bad man, but he was selfish, prideful, sneaky, and did not have the love and compassion that Aaric has when it came to the people of Wolfjour Ail or to his own family.”
“I am sad to hear that Isolda was able to infiltrate his mind, that he allowed this draugr to take him over. But his weakness, it is something that has been inside of him since he was born. He has never been one who was strong the way that Aaric and Tait are.”
Watching them for a moment, I can’t help but think that if we were to have a daughter, I want her to be just like her two strong aunts—exactly like them. There is a loud pounding on the door and we all jump.
Turning to look over at the door, Runa stands and makes her way over to it, lifting the wooden piece from the door. She tugs it open slightly, sticking her head out, and murmurs to the person on the other side.
She gasps, then turns around to look at me from over her shoulder. I watch as she licks her lips, her eyes wide with wonderment.
“This is quite a day,” she states.
“What’s happened?” Sylvi asks with a sniffle.
Runa clears her throat. “It is the missive that Aaric sent to find your sister, Liv. He has found her and she has responded to your letter. He also has news about the prophecy.”
“Bring him in,” I demand.
It feels weird to talk to a man who isn’t Aaric, to talk to one of his men, but I have to. This involves my sister, this involves the prophecy.
Runa guides the man over to the second stool, and he sits down. She doesn’t lock the door, but she does close it and I notice that she stands behind him and one step to the left, her gaze focused on the back of his head.
I smirk to myself. Having a legit witch on your side is really fucking great.
“Dróttning,” the man says with a dip of his chin before he takes a seat in front of me.
Nodding my head, I try to pretend to be as regal as possible. It’s kind of hard to do when you’ve been living in a tent for days, screwed your blue painted husband just hours ago, and flew on the back of a dragon, but here I am attempting to kill it.
“Please, tell me what you’ve discovered, tell me about my sister,” I practically beg. He clears his throat, his eyes flicking around the women in the room, no doubt looking for my husband. I forget that this place is beyond archaic. “Aaric is not here, please tell me.”
He nods his head, my explanation obviously enough, probably only because I can speak their language now.
“Sybilla Collins is known as Sybilla Wainwright, The Queen of Bunfai. Her husband, King Elias Wainwright, is known to be a conqueror and is the king of a vast amount of land. He is considered a just and fair king, taking over lands that his father squandered away and left to unjust rulers.”
My heart swells at the words he uses to describe my sister’s new husband. It does seem that this prophecy is true, that we are meant to fall for the fiercest warriors in the land.
“How can I see her, we have to meet,” I burst out, knowing that I need to see Sybilla. I have to.
He shakes his head once. “Her husband would like to meet on common ground. He does not know our konungr, only by reputation.”
“That is something that Aaric must decide on,” Sylvi whispers.
I nod my head, knowing that she’s right. I need to wait for Aaric, even if I’m really freaking excited to see my sister and I want to see her immediately. I’m half tempted to demand that Quest come back, get me, and take me to her, but I know that without a doubt that would piss Aaric off in a way where I’m not sure we could recover as a couple.
Damn it, I love him too much to defy him like that. With a sigh, I close my eyes and shake my head a couple of times.
“Okay,” I breathe. “Okay. I can wait,” I lie.
“There is no time to wait, your sister wishes to see you as soon as possible. She would like to ensure your safety,” he says with an urgency to his voice that makes my heart pound inside my chest.
I don’t know if I can wait, but I will—for Aaric.
“What happens now?” I ask, shifting my gaze over to Sylvi. She’s the next in charge here, after me, and I’m completely lost.
She smiles, standing to her feet as she wipes her tears away. “Please dine with us. There is plenty and your long travels are appreciated,” she says.
Damn.
That was good.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this queen thing, but I’m sure going to try. Sylvi kills it though. She needs to be the wife of a ruler, not some random warrior, not just anyone. She needs to be a queen or a duchess or something amazing like that. She was born for it.