The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(7)

“Are you not?”

“Never.”

The firmness of that response throws me off. I purse my lips, frustrated and doing my best not to tremble visibly. “Then I do not understand the purpose of your visit.”

The look in his dark eye is strangely direct. “Do you not?” When I shake my head, he reaches out and grabs one of my thick braids, running his hand down it. It is a curiously intimate touch, one that makes my belly pool with heat and flutters of nervousness. I realize how close he’s standing. “Do you recall that when my father took Yshrem, his men stormed your chambers and demanded to throw my body over the walls to anger my father?”

I remember. I remember my helpless anger at the thought of doing something to such a small, helpless boy. Of taking the frustrations of war out on a child. But mostly, I remember Mathior’s small hand clasping mine as I hid him behind my skirts. The moment is etched in my mind. “I do.”

“And do you remember what I told you when you said you would surrender to my father?”

I shake my head. The afternoon that day was a blur. I vaguely remember my grief at my father’s death, the sight of his head on a pike as the barbarians swept through the streets and into the castle. I remember my terror as I tried to sit on my throne without collapsing. I remember wearing the crown jewels of Yshrem for a very short hour only to be brought, on my knees, to Alistair the barbarian and his men on the front lines. I remember how they called and called for my death. They wanted to see me beheaded.

And yet I wasn’t. I was taken directly to Riekki’s temple and left here to dwell in peace. Alistair, who never showed mercy or kindness to his foes, let his rival’s heir go free. It didn’t make sense. “I don’t recall, I’m afraid.”

“I told you I would keep you safe. That I would protect you because you belonged to me. Remember?”

I do remember that, strangely enough. My mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “I recall thinking you were a strangely possessive boy, yes. I’m glad we were friends.”

Mathior’s gaze is strangely intense as he toys with the end of my braid. “Did you think I jested, then?”

I gaze up at him, speechless. I’m having a hard time concentrating because of his nearness. He smells of sweat and horse and fresh air, and instead of that being appalling, it makes me long for the world outside. I like his scent. I know I should be thinking of other things than how he smells, but my goodness, when he stands this close, it’s hard to think of anything but his presence. “I thought you were keeping me safe,” I stammer. “As I kept you safe.”

“I meant what I said. You belonged to me, even then. I’ve come to claim you.”





4





HALLA



I stare at him in shock. The book tumbles from my grip and falls onto the floor, and still I cannot move.

“What do you mean?” I whisper. I can feel my cheeks turning scarlet even as fear tumbles through my belly. He’s come to claim me. That can mean any number of things, given that the cyclops have so many different customs than my people. Perhaps he means that he will parade me through the streets in chains to show that I am subdued. After all, my father’s father did such a thing with his enemies. But even as I speculate, I think of him touching my braid and my mind goes to…other things.

Like the picture in the book.

I’ve come to claim you.

Heat flutters in my belly. You silly spinster, I tell myself. Don’t be like this. He is your enemy. You’re his prisoner.

As I watch, Mathior leans over and picks up my book. He studies the cover and my heart slams in my throat. “Riekki’s prayers?” He watches me carefully. “Have you taken up the vows of peace, then?”

Have I joined the temple’s guardians? “No, not at all.”

“Yet you read the prayers?” He gazes at the cover, and then opens the book, flipping through the pages.

And stops.

A slow smile curves his mouth as he gazes down at the drawing on the page.

Hot embarrassment scorches through me. I want to snatch the offending book out of his grip and toss it under my bunk, never to be seen again.

Mathior flicks a sly glance up at me. “I admit I’ve never followed Riekki’s priesthood too closely, but I do not recall such things in my prayers.”

I snatch the book away from him and clutch it to my breast. I don’t want to know which picture he was looking at. I can imagine all kinds of embarrassments. “Tell me why you are here. Tell me what you want.”

He laughs. “Can you not guess, lovely Halla?”

“Why you are here? Of course not.” I hide behind my regal demeanor, even though my cheeks are flushed and my heart is pounding. “If you have not come to murder me and assure your claim on the throne, I don’t know why you are here.”

“I told you what I want.”

Did I miss it somehow? “What?”

“You.” The look he gives me is scorching.

Yet again, I am speechless. “King Mathior—”

“Call me Mathior. There is no need for titles between us.”

I take a steeling breath and hold the book tighter. I’m no longer terrified; now I’m just confused. “You have my mind going in circles. I don’t know what to think. I thought you were here…I thought…” I can’t quite say the words.