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King's Throne(58)

By:Bianca D'Arc

“How are you related to me exactly?” Mitch asked, curious.
“My mother and your mother were sisters. As it happened, they married brothers, so we have the same last name, but we’re actually first cousins.”
“Do your parents still live?” Mitch asked, feeling a pang for his own lost parents.
“They do. They are both up at the stronghold at the moment. Neither has been granted leave by Gisli to come down to the village in weeks.”
“Who trains the younger generation, if all the Guards are constantly kept up at the stronghold?” Gina wanted to know.
Gunnar shrugged. “There are a few old timers who try, but it’s not easy. Those of us who haven’t been given spots in the Guard yet have had to take what we know and do our best to teach the cubs. I’m afraid our skills probably aren’t up to the standard of the previous generation.”
Was Gunnar lying? Trying to fool Mitch into a false sense of security? He thought not. Gunnar seemed to be on the level, but Mitch would remain cautious.
“That’s irresponsible and short-sighted at best,” Gina exclaimed. “My father would not have let this happen.”
“Your father wasn’t here.” The tone was not accusatory, but Mitch felt Gina’s instinctive recoil. He wished he could reprimand Gunnar, but he’d spoken only the truth. And sometimes, the truth was painful.
“You’re right, Gunnar,” Gina said after a long moment. “And I won’t make any excuses. Father had his reasons.”
“We know, princess. I didn’t mean to condemn with my words. Amma Hilda has explained it to us many times, but it is still hard to live with. My apologies.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Never apologize for speaking the truth,” Gina countered, surprising Mitch—and Gunnar, if his expression was anything to go by.
“What did Hilda say about the king’s exile?” Mitch was curious.
“That it was the will of the Lady and that we were not permitted to know Her reasons for every action. That we had to trust in the Mother of All to forgive us and return order to our kingdom.”
“Forgive you for what?” Gina asked.
Gunnar frowned. “It is not for me to speak of, even if I did know all the details. I can only say that a misuse of magic brought all this about. At least, that’s what Amma Hilda says.”
Mitch would have probed more, but they’d arrived. In the distance, he could see a sheer ice wall that he knew from the king’s descriptions was no ordinary ice wall. A hidden fissure lead to the tiger stronghold encased within the glacier. The ice palace. Hereditary seat of tigre blanche power.
As they drew closer, Mitch saw figures emerge from the fissure. Not stealthy. A mistake in Mitch’s opinion. What if they’d been a party of human climbers? It was stupid to be so cavalier about what was supposed to be the secret entrance to a hidden stronghold. Mitch shook his head and kept walking.
The welcoming party was waiting.
 
“Gunnar Gustavson,” a mountain of a man who had to be Gisli intoned. “Who have you brought to my doorstep?”
“Only those granted passage by the right of challenge, sire,” Gunnar replied with seeming obedience. Mitch didn’t blame him. It was best to play along with Gisli for now. If Mitch lost, Gunnar would have no chance against a tiger his size.
Gisli was a giant. Built on the scale of Gina’s father but a lot younger, he was a tiger warrior in his prime. It was clear he kept in shape. He hadn’t let soft living here at the stronghold weaken him. He looked like the kind of tiger that still got his claws bloody on a regular basis.
Mitch would have his work cut out for him. But he’d known that already. This had never been advertised as an easy task.
“I see no challenge here. Only cubs out for a walk.” Gisli spat into the snow at his feet. “Run back home to your mothers, children, and leave the work of governing to the adults.”
Mitch knew the usurper was trying to rile him. He did his best not to let idle words ruffle his fur. Instead, he very deliberately stripped off his pack and reached inside for the arrow they’d brought with them all the way from the States. It was the same arrow that had been shot at them, holding the challenge message.
Mitch lifted it in his hands and then threw it with dead-on accuracy to embed it in the snow an inch from Gisli’s foot. To his credit, the usurper didn’t even flinch. He didn’t waiver. Didn’t move back or give even a millimeter of ground. He simply stared at the arrow for a long moment and then looked back up at Mitch, a sneer on his face.
“So you’re the puppy that comes to fight me in my brother’s stead? I could have hoped you’d be a little bigger. As it is, I predict this fight will be a quick one.”