Chapter 43 Alarik
Alarik
Alarik slept deeply, dreaming of ancient dragons and crumbling mountains, and the woman he loved, soaring alongside him on a slip of wind.
When he woke in his bedchamber, she was there. Standing by the door to his balcony with her arms wrapped around her middle, Greta’s gaze flicked from the front lawn to the king’s bed. When she noticed him stirring, she rushed to his side.
‘You’re awake,’ she said, perching on the edge of his bed. Concern filled her blue-grey eyes as they swept over his face. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Confused.’ Alarik cleared the cobwebs from his throat, blinking her into focus. Bruises bloomed along her jaw and there was a nasty gash on her forehead. He reached for her, and flinched as pain seared his chest.
‘Careful,’ she said, laying a gentling hand on his shoulder. ‘Your ribs are cracked.’
Alarik frowned, piecing the fragments of his strange dream back together. The more he recalled, the realer it all seemed. And there was certainly nothing imaginary about the shrieking ache in his sides, or the dull throbbing in his head. He felt like he had been pummelled with a thousand rocks.
Wait a second. He had been pummelled by rocks. Mercilessly.
‘There was a dragon,’ he murmured.
She nodded encouragingly. ‘You remember?’
Alarik’s head spun. It was not a dream, but a memory. Elias luring Greta into the mountain. The rock caving in on them, her body trembling beneath his as boulders plummeted from above.
Anger rippled through him at the memory of his cousin’s betrayal. ‘Elias—’
‘Burnt and buried,’ said the wrangler, quietly. ‘I didn’t rescue him.’
‘Good,’ said Alarik, though the sting of his cousin’s betrayal lingered. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
She shook her head. ‘You saved me,’ she whispered, smiling now.
‘You saved me, wildling.’
Somehow, they had survived. It was impossible. It was a miracle. He covered her hand with his own, pressing it to his chest to make sure she was real. That he hadn’t died in that cave with his arms around her.
‘How long have I been out?’
‘Hours,’ she said, a small dent appearing between her brows. ‘The physician examined you. I’ve been watching over you since he left.’ She gestured to the silver wolf curled up at the end of his bed. ‘I’m afraid Luna insisted.’
She was teasing him. Returning the excuse he had used when he watched over her after the Battle of the Blackspires.
‘Bossy little thing,’ he said, threading his fingers through hers.
She stared at their hands, her voice quieting. ‘You missed your wedding.’
‘I called off my wedding.’
He wondered if she knew the reason. He desperately wanted to tell her, his heart was thundering so fast, he was sure she could feel it rattling against her palm.
‘I went to your room this morning, but you weren’t there. I thought you had left me.’
She chewed on her bottom lip, igniting a familiar flare of desire that drove him to momentary distraction. ‘I thought about it,’ she confessed. ‘I wondered if it would be easier that way, to put an ocean between me and you.’ She paused, looking away. ‘And your new bride.’
Alarik’s stomach twisted at the thought.
‘But I couldn’t do it,’ she went on. ‘The truth is, I would rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world. If not as your lover, then as your wrangler.’ She smiled tentatively. ‘As your friend.’
‘I have another suggestion,’ said Alarik.
Her brows lifted. ‘What is it?’
Be my queen.
Easy, Alarik.
One thing at a time. He had just got his wrangler back. He was not about to frighten her off again. ‘Give me a few days. I’m working up to it.’
‘All right.’ She brushed the strands from his forehead, lightly tracing the bruises there. ‘You took a thrashing for me today.’
‘Light work.’
And he meant it. He would walk into the flaming heart of the sun to keep Greta Iversen from pain. A little pummelling and a dozen broken ribs was nothing to cry about. Not while she was safe and warm in his bedchamber.
‘Hardly.’
‘I think we can agree your rescue was far more impressive.’
‘Well, that was mostly Fern.’
He cocked his head. ‘Fern?’
‘I’ve decided that’s her name.’ Her lips curled into a delicious smirk.
Alarik grimaced. This woman and her ludicrous monikers.
‘Why?’
‘Because it suits her.’ She flashed her teeth. ‘It’s short for Raging InFERNo of Death.’
Alarik burst into laughter, his ribs screaming in protest.
‘See,’ she needled. ‘You love it.’
‘Not as much as I love you, Greta Iversen.’
She went utterly still.
Oops. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, but the pressure in his chest had suddenly become too much. The words had leaped from him before he could stop them, and anyway, he had been trying to tell her all morning. If not now, when?
His declaration echoed in the silence. It coloured her cheeks, staining them the most alluring shade of pink.
‘Oh,’ she said, quietly. ‘I was not expecting that.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ he said, throwing the last of his caution to the wind and giving voice to the rest of his adoration before it burned a hole in him.
He was in enough discomfort already. ‘You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.
When I’m with you, I feel like the best version of myself.
As a man. As a king. You give me peace, Greta.
’ He tugged her into the heat of his body, and she slid her hands up his chest, gently toying with the collar of his nightshirt.
Listening, blushing, but not quite looking at him.
‘All my life, I have never known peace. And now that I have tasted it, I finally understand it. Now that I have it in my arms, I don’t want to let it go.
’ He touched his forehead against hers, their breath mingling.
‘Your soul sings to mine, wildling. I want to listen to its song every day of my life.’
She closed her eyes, a soft, ragged noise catching in the back of her throat.
‘Let me love you, Greta. Let me earn your love in return.’
She brushed her nose against his. ‘Don’t you see?’ she said, skimming his lips with her own. Heat roared through his bloodstream at the barest touch of her mouth. ‘You already have my love. You have my heart and soul.’
He smiled against her. There was no greater gift, no finer treasure in Gevra than his wrangler’s heart. He would guard it steadfastly with his own.
And every beast and weapon at his disposal.
She licked her bottom lip, the blush in her cheeks deepening. Her pupils flared, echoing his own desire. This kind of declaration required a kiss, if not a marriage and a lifetime together. ‘At the risk of failing as your nurse, are you in too much pain to—’
He kissed her fiercely, his hands sliding into her hair as he claimed her mouth. Her lips parted for him, and his tongue swept in, caressing hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pouring herself into him with a languid moan.
The kiss was slow and deep and lingering. Despite their growling hunger, they were gentle with each other, too bruised and aching to throw themselves into the bonfire of their lust, but every stroke of Alarik’s tongue was a promise of more to come, her ragged gasps a fervent, answering vow.
Eons later, they broke apart. Cheeks flushed and eyes bright, neither one of them could keep the smile from their face. With great effort, Greta tore herself away from him and stood up.
‘Come to the balcony,’ she said, gently tugging him to his feet.
Alarik joined her at the balustrade, where they stood looking out at the Fovarr Mountains, the once unbroken line of peaks now shattered down the middle, as though some great, lumbering beast had trampled through them. Which, of course, it had.
It would take months to properly clear away the rubble and excavate the rest of the caverns, but at least now he could see all the way to the horizon.
Greta pressed a kiss to his cheek, then jerked her chin downwards. ‘You’d better say a proper hello.’
Alarik peered over the balustrade to find a dragon sprawled across the frosted lawn. She was lolling on her back, idly picking her teeth with the branch of an elderberry tree.
‘Go right ahead, Fern,’ said Alarik, waggling his fingers. ‘Make yourself at home.’
‘This was her home long before it was yours. It looks like she intends to stay.’ Greta gestured to the bony carcasses littering the lawn. ‘She ate all your wedding food, by the way. Including the ceremonial squid. Lief fainted in horror, and she almost ate him, too.’
Alarik chuckled, swiftly warming to the magnificent beast. ‘If she’s happy and you’re happy, then I’m happy.’
Greta beamed, her smile shooting through him like sunlight. ‘So, we’ll keep her?’
‘Only if you promise to keep me.’
She hummed in delight. ‘Then she’s yours.’
‘No, my love. She’s ours.’
But as the dragon stretched, releasing a flaming yawn that set the entire sky alight, Alarik had the sudden unshakeable sense that they belonged to her just as surely as she belonged to them.
He wouldn’t have had it any other way.