And sitting on the thrones (one much grander than the other) were two men.
On the bigger one was a graying, jowly man with a large belly and a larger gold crown on his head. This was decorated with black fur and inset with rubies and diamonds. He wore his own poofy shorts, these striped in black and red and also a breastplate painted with a dragon but it looked funny considering it had to be made with a bulge to cover his big belly. Hilariously (I thought), at his booted foot there was a helmet with a huge spray of red and black feathers shooting straight out of the top, this I read as his indication that he was battle ready at all times when he was, clearly, not.
But as amusing as this was, I didn’t find him humorous because his eyes were directed right at me and I saw at once they were mean.
At his side sat a very handsome, much younger man not wearing a breastplate, poofy shorts or even a crown but black breeches, shined black boots, a red poofy-sleeved shirt with laces at the collar and a black, brocade vest. His ensemble, even with the red poofy shirt, was understated but elegant.
My uncle and cousin.
And, by the way, my uncle, clearly, was not an identical twin with Father.
There was a man standing to the right and behind Prince Broderick’s chair and he, too, was dressed like Broderick but his shirt was pristine white and he had a thin scarf with a silk fringe wrapped jauntily around his neck.
A not-so-wild guess (considering the scarf), the lover, Phobin.
I let Kell and Gunner go and dropped to a low, formal curtsy which was my guess at what he would expect regardless that he thought we shared blood and royal status.
“Rise, my niece,” I heard him command in a voice as pompous as his surroundings and I did what I was told.
Then I hoped to all that was holy that I read even the slightest hint of Sjofn’s feelings for these two in her letters and I smiled dutifully at her uncle but far more warmly at her cousin.
Baldur inclined his head.
Broderick smiled warmly back.
Okay.
Phew.
That seemed to go well.
“Come, my dear, embrace your brethren,” Baldur ordered, I looked back at him, saw he had his hands to the arms of his throne, appearing like he was preparing to shift his bulk from the chair and I lifted a fluttering hand to my throat.
“If it pleases you, your grace,” I rasped harshly and saw Baldur blink before his brows drew together and he sat back, “for your welfare, I will not.” I pushed out, moved my hand from my throat to my mouth, coughed roughly yet delicately (yep, I pulled that off and was pretty freaking proud of myself doing it), dropped my hand and finished, “I’ve caught a chill in my throat and I do not wish you to catch it.”
“Yer grace,” Kell cut in and I turned to him to see he was still bent low, eyes to the furs at our feet, “if we could have your leave to get our princess a chair. She’s unwell and don’t have a lot ‘a energy.”
“See to a chair for Princess Sjofn, Phobin,” Baldur ordered, the face of the man behind Broderick grew slightly hard at being ordered about then he moved off toward some furniture sitting at the side of the tent.
The good news was, Phobin and Broderick were here so they weren’t wherever Frey was.
The other good news was, so far, I was pulling this off and Kell had fallen in with the plan.
And luckily, there was no bad news.
Yet.
“Guard of Sjofn, you may also rise,” Baldur muttered distractedly and I looked to my left to see Gunner had, as well, been bowed to this king all this time.
What a dick, leaving them like that. It wasn’t like it was hours but still.
I shook off this irritation as Phobin brought me a chair. I smiled at him then collapsed in it pretending to pretend I was not actually collapsing in it but regally taking a very needed load off my princess feet.
When I was settled, Gunner and Kell took their places, Gunner at my left back and Kell at the right.
“If you are so unwell, niece, why did you make the journey? My men could easily have attended you on your husband’s vessel,” Baldur made a good point and I looked at him.
Shit. This was true.
I thought fast.
Then I rasped, “You are my father’s brother but you are also king.” He winced at my voice with the addition of a curled lip to show his distaste, the latter of which I didn’t like all that much. I mean, I wasn’t actually sick but he didn’t know that and no one could help being sick. “It is my duty to attend you,” I concluded.
“That is my sweet Sjofn,” Broderick said softly in a lovely, deep, gentle voice and my eyes went to him to see his were soft and warm on me. “Always putting duty above self.”
Well, not always.
I obviously didn’t mention this but tipped my head to the side and smiled at him.