26. Ancient History #3
“He can and he will,” I snapped, the image of Lukas’s face during the ceremony flooding my mind.
I’d broken our betrothal only days ago, and now he’d seen the dragon prince bind himself to me as a husband would to a wife.
After the way he’d accused me of encouraging Corbyn’s affection, Lukas would never believe that Trygg was simply ignorant of our customs. Never.
My breath heaved as I continued. “Lord Aberg, he… he already suspects me of treachery.” The realization slammed into me like a boulder. “He will… He will think that I… that we?—”
I turned away, burying my face in my hands. But awareness tingled down my spine as Trygg moved. Everything he did seemed to draw my attention. The darkthread shuddered, pulling a small gasp out of me.
“Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly. “Please believe when I say… I did not understand the significance of the cup. And I am deeply sorry for any trouble I may have caused you. That was not my intent.”
I waited another moment for my breathing to steady before uncovering my face, trembling with shame. No matter what I did, I couldn’t conceal my emotions around Trygg. He drew them out of me like a blacksmith ridding steel of its impurities. If only his flames tempered me, instead of enraging me.
Slowly, I turned to face him, straightening my spine. I’d already opened the door of honesty—no closing it now.
“‘Trouble’ does not even begin to describe it,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“I want to believe that Lukas never would, but he could use your actions as an excuse to accuse me of a crime. A… relationship with a Shifter is seen as taboo in most circles. For me… For the heir to Bridja’s legacy…
Many believe your people have never paid for their crimes during the Drakon War.
They would brand me a traitor. ” I averted my gaze, looking up at the shelf where Bridja’s decrepit journals sat.
“I’m sorry,” he rumbled, shaking his head. “I never meant… “
The darkthread trembled in my chest like a sob I couldn’t contain, a stark reminder of the damning hold this dragon had on me.
“I don’t know what to make of you, Trygg,” I said, unsure why I couldn’t stop myself. “One moment, you are inciting me to near violence. The next…” My shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. “I cannot explain it.”
He cocked his head, eyes widening in what I could only name as surprise. A sight which inexplicably warmed my chest.
His gaze fell to the floor. “I cannot explain it either, my lady.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised. Perhaps I’d been mistaken in believing he didn’t feel or know about the mysterious connection between us.
Careful, Asvoria, the Shadow warned. You’ve revealed your hand enough this afternoon.
Before I could think up a suitable response, he moved toward me, steps slow and steady. My heart jumped into my throat, but I was unable to look away. I was rooted to the spot, exactly like?—
“I never thanked you,” I spat out, halting his approach.
His gaze narrowed. “For what?” he asked, confusion clouding his face. Confusion and, perhaps… suspicion?
I cleared my throat unceremoniously, taking a small step backwards. “For saving my life during the attack,” I replied, averting my gaze.
“I only did my duty.”
A near repetition of Corbyn’s words as he lay wounded in his bed.
My heart stuttered at the memory. Trygg looked up at me, his eyes dragging slowly, as though he was trying to memorize the planes of my face.
I imagined his gaze like a gentle caress, stroking along my cheek.
It sent a fiery warmth through my chest, straight down to?—
Damn these dragons, I thought bitterly, turning away to face the hearth. The Shadow pressed up against my mind, no trace of haughtiness to be found.
He shifted behind me and moved in closer. “And,” he continued, his voice low and ragged, “if it is as you say—if I have bound myself to you—I will do whatever you ask.”
I restrained a snort. “You can start by reining in that mouth of yours. It’s only going to get you into more trouble.”
He chuckled darkly, a sound that snaked around me and tightened in my gut. The Shadow roiled, retreating into her corner.
“I’ve never been good at holding my tongue,” he said, so close that his breath stirred the hairs at the nape of my neck. “And I hate to say it, my lady , but I think you rather like that about me.”
“You should not say such things,” I breathed, finding it hard to focus over the pounding of my pulse. “It’s not appropriate.”
“Yes, I seem to have a problem with acting appropriately.”
I stood deathly still, frozen to the spot as his hand brushed my neck, sweeping my hair over my shoulder.
Every instinct suddenly fled, replaced by an intoxicating flood of desire.
The proper thing would be to jerk away, rebuke his impropriety, and order him out of my presence.
But the Shadow was right. She was always right.
I didn’t want to do any of that.
In my chest, the darkthread tightened and vibrated with a low buzz. The invisible line I had once drawn between us grew fainter, almost disappearing. His knuckles brushed down the line of my spine, sending shivers across my back. Even through the layers of fabric, I felt his radiating warmth.
His hand came back up to gently caress the nape of my neck.
And despite my better judgment, I leaned into him.
The buzzing in my chest was almost pleasant, like the tingling lightness that came after a cup of mead.
My head swirled with that same lightness, so heady and all-consuming that I almost found myself smiling.
Before I knew it, I was turning around, no longer certain this was only about discovering his true intentions. His hand trailed against my skin and came to rest at the side of my neck. As I lifted my gaze, his thumb traced idly up and down my throat.
“You are nothing like I expected,” he breathed, mind seemingly far away.
All he had to do was tighten his grip and he would squeeze the life out of me before the scream left my lips. He could do it, right now, and be on his way back to Ilfa Esari before anyone found me.
‘ I didn’t come here to hurt her. I’m here to help her. ’
Trygg leaned in closer, his other hand gripping my hip and sending a shock of pulsing heat to my core. My eyes traveled to his lips, seeing how they parted in anticipation, his intent clearly written on that face entirely too handsome for my own good.
It was an effort not to succumb to the shiver snaking down my spine.
It was an effort not to succumb to him, and the way his gaze pierced straight through me.
They held me captive, stealing every thought in my mind but the ones of him.
Of the way my gaze always found him whenever he was in the room; the connection between us that both excited and terrified me.
He was so close now, his lips almost touching mine. All I had to do was lean forward and…
Asvoria, the Shadow whispered, breaking through the fog.
I drew in a sharp breath, slowly stepping back into the sweltering heat of the hearth. His fingers trailed on my skin, searing as much as his eyes.
“You should go,” I said, my gaze on the sensual curve of his mouth. That mouth I’d almost allowed to claim my own.
He dropped his hand. A range of emotions swirled in his eyes, none of them decipherable.
Silently, he bowed his head. And when he left the room, stealing the warmth from my bones as he went, there was no anger pulsing from the darkthread.
It was a sadness so heart wrenching, it nearly brought me to my knees.
Did the sadness belong to me? Or to the dragon prince that somehow called to the deepest parts of my soul?
I no longer knew the state of the hnefatafl game. The pieces were scattered across the board, mixing amongst each other so I couldn't tell which warriors were mine and which were his. He’d been so close to capturing my queen, and I’d almost handed her over on a silver platter.
Yes, dangerous was the perfect word to describe Trygg. And I had only one word to describe myself.
Fool.