Chapter 7
Elva
The morning air was crisp as we shoved our way through the crowded marketplace, trying to figure out where to sign up for the tournament.
Wooden stalls lined the square-shaped market, and vendors shouted over the crowd to hawk their wares, while locals haggled over every coin.
The locals’ clothing sparkled, covered in more gold and jewels than any other place we’d visited so far.
Tyndorf had a large, affluent population, and that was wonderful news for us, considering Leifur was an expert swordsmith.
If he didn’t win the tournament outright, he’d surely land a job offer.
His work was exquisite; my daggers were a prime example of his craftsmanship.
All we needed now was enough money to buy some undesired land in the woods outside the rampart.
Mortals didn’t like the woods, so we figured our plan would work, provided Sindri didn’t charm the wrong widow, and I kept my temper in check.
Sindri shouted our names, and we ducked into a small alleyway to let him catch up.
He’d found a merchant woman selling food and was cradling three steaming stuffed buns.
I bit into one eagerly, burning my tongue, but the moment I tasted the honey and soft cheese, I moaned, “Sindri, this is delicious.”
“Only the best for the loves of my life,” he replied.
Leifur was blowing on his breakfast and reading a sign that listed the tournament events. “This is quite the affair. Three days long. What is it celebrating?”
An older woman dressed in a lavish gown, adorned with gold and jewels, overheard us and chuckled.
“Why, the wedding of the Princess to the General, of course. We were wondering if that girl would ever settle down. It seems sorcerers live longer than we, so she was in no rush, but her father finally put his foot down.”
“How old is she?” I asked.
“Twenty-seven, but she still looks eighteen.”
“And the esteemed general?” Sindri asked.
“Thirty-seven. Been serving the king for years,” the woman replied. She smiled at Sindri and accepted his arm the instant he offered it to her.
“Do you know where we sign up for the events?” Leifur asked.
“There’ll be a booth on the road leading to the castle and tournament field.”
Sindri whispered something to her, and she giggled like a girl before the two of them headed in the opposite direction.
Leifur adjusted his satchel and shrugged at me. “Know what you’re competing in?”
“Daggers, and maybe swords, but the mortals here are so huge, their reach will probably do me in.”
“Your aim is deadly with those daggers,” Leifur replied.
“Thank you. I spent a decade mastering it.”
“Oh, I know,” he said, offering me his arm. “All the younglings knew to hide when you got to try weapons.”
We pushed our way through the crowd until we left the market square behind, following the road toward the tournament field.
By now, it seemed half the town was awake and on the path with us, because we could barely move through the sea of people.
Normally, all these people would make me anxious, but if they’re celebrating a royal wedding, it makes sense.
I pulled my satchel a little tighter and pressed on.
Leifur held his finger up and then vanished for a moment, returning with two more buns. My mouth watered at the sight, and I didn't wait for him to offer one before I ripped it from his hand.
“I knew that would make you feel better.”
“Ank t,” I mumbled over the mouthful I had already taken.
“Welcome.”
Leifur squeezed my shoulder, and we continued with the crowd toward the fields.
Attempting to blend in, we both put on huge smiles and allowed ourselves to point out the beautiful decorations strung up in the town.
The wooden houses were decked out in ribbons, streamers, lanterns, and dragon’s breath flowers in every color of the rainbow.
Dragon's breath was rare in the siren territory, but in the south, we’d seen it growing along the road, and it made everything feel safer somehow.
Bouquets of them, bound with twine, hung on doors and window sills.
“I think I might know the princess’ favorite flower,” Leifur whispered to me.
I snorted in response, and he playfully pinched my elbow.
The air was buzzing with excitement, as I grabbed Leifur’s arm and hugged him.
I heard delighted laughter. The surrounding townspeople were now being funneled into a pair of lines to enter the castle grounds.
The enormous wooden doors were wide open, and the people heading left were mostly families, while those heading right appeared to consist primarily of strong young men.
“I think we go right,” I told Leifur, and he nodded and followed me.
Glancing around at the men who would likely be our competition, I found myself underwhelmed.
A few here and there would give my commander, the siren general, a run for her money, but most wouldn’t hold a candle to her prowess.
Leifur’s smug grin told me he felt the same.
We waited our turn, trying not to draw attention to ourselves, when a boar of a man came up behind us and slapped my ass.
“What are you doing here, little lady? This is the line for the men.”
Leifur’s expression darkened, but I only had to raise my eyebrows and purse my lips, and my brother-in-law stood down. “He’s not worth it,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
As our line inched forward, the oaf behind us grabbed my arm. “I’m talking to you, girlie,” he growled, yanking me back. “You wouldn’t want—”
He never got to finish his comment because a muscular arm struck him in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
I pushed Leifur behind me and turned back to find a satyr looking at me.
I’d never seen one in real life and froze in surprise.
Part man, part goat, he was more handsome than most of the men we’d met in our travels.
His head was covered by thick, luscious brown hair, the shade of which perfectly matched the fur on his bare, muscular goat's legs. His face, torso and arms were that of a man, while his legs and the curved black horns protruding from his head were from a goat. I couldn’t help but stare.
He wore a loose leather vest that hung open, showing off his chiseled torso, but nothing more than a loincloth on his lower half.
I had to swallow to hold back my siren as she was determined to learn more about this creature before us.
The satyr leaned closer to me, heating the air between us.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he? I'd hate for a guest in our kingdom to judge us all because of one ignorant thug.” He grabbed hold of my hand and kissed it, but I barely noticed, as his horns still mesmerized me.
They almost seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. The things I could do with those.
Leifur reached his arm out toward the satyr. “I’m Leifur, and this is my sister-in-law, Elva.”
The satyr looked at his outstretched hand before grabbing it and giving it a good shake.
“Baldr.” After releasing Leifur's hand, he returned his gaze to me. “Elva … that’s an unusual name for southern Torian. You must be from the middle—siren and selkie territory, or perhaps Sigil Territory? Good thing you have your brother here to protect you.”
Leifur snorted. “If anyone is protecting anyone, Elva is taking care of me.”
“Beautiful and a fighter? You’re sounding more and more like my type by the minute. Perhaps I could show you around Tyndorf. Give you my tour.”
A heat surged through me as Baldr’s eyes swept across my body. “I’ll consider it.” I wrapped my fingers around the end of my braid and met his gaze with a playful smile.
Something brushed against my leg. I glanced down, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Apologies,” Baldr said with a charming grin. “My tail has a mind of its own when it comes to beautiful women.”
I crossed my arms, trying to appear nonchalant despite the flush rising to my cheeks. Leifur, noticing my reaction, pushed me gently toward the satyr. “If I were to take you up on your offer, where might I find you?” I asked.
“I keep a room at the King’s Path Inn. I’ll leave a key for you with the barman.”
“I’ll have to see if I’m feeling up to it,” I teased. “It was a long journey to get here.”
“Well, I can promise you it will be a tour you’ll never forget.” Baldr took my hand once more and kissed it, before turning and heading off into the crowd.
Leifur leaned in close as soon as Baldr was out of earshot. “Tell me you’re going to bed him. Because if you don’t, I’ll have to. A satyr is on both my and Sindri’s list.”
I playfully shoved my brother-in-law, pretending to be embarrassed by his teasing. “What list?”
Leifur grinned mischievously. “The list of creatures we want to bed before we die. I have a satyr, a royal, a werewolf, and a northern human on my list. Your brother has—”
“I’m well aware of what’s on Sindri’s list,” I groaned, shaking my head.
“He does like to remind us, doesn’t he?”
I blinked my eyes at him and smiled slyly. “I think he’s a little jealous you bedded me before he got to you.”
“That was for work,” Leifur replied, trying to hide the slight shade of pink that crept across his pale cheeks.
“You seemed to enjoy yourself a little too much for it to just be work.”
Leifur sighed. “What can I say? You have great tits.”
I smiled and pressed my breasts together. “I do, don’t I?”
“Next!”
We turned to see an overweight, old guard sitting at a table next to a sign that read ‘Swords, Daggers and Axes’.
“You’re up.” Leifur pushed me forward.