“Looks like you just got a taste of what those blood magic scouts received.”
Both boys glanced her way, their faces going from incredulous to betrayed. Then both boys slammed their attention back to their older brother.
“But you said girls were good for one thing. And that wasn’t magic or fighting.”
Now it was her turn to turn her attention to the big man at her side. “And what one thing is that?” she asked, almost afraid to know.
Osborn’s expression turned blank. “Cooking.”
“Cleaning,” the boys said at the same time.
Osborn shrugged. “I guess there were two things.”
She shot him a look full of venom. She’d never even glanced at another person in a cross manner in her life. Half a day in this family’s presence and she was shooting energy daggers. At least he didn’t suggest to these two boys that girls were only good for what happened once the chamber door was closed. Especially since her body was the only thing Osborn had showed much interest in when it came to her.
“You can’t take help from a girl,” Bernt said. “A warrior defeats alone.”
Osborn dropped the pack at his feet and draped an arm over the shoulders of his brothers. He bent his knees so he’d be on eye level with them.
“There’s no shame in a man accepting help from another warrior, even if she’s a girl.”
All this talk was beginning to fray on her nerves. Her father would be lost without his wife. The queen and her husband always stood side by side. He listened to her counsel, and shared the responsibility of ruling. At least Osborn seemed to have an inkling of how it was supposed to work. Unfortunately, he hadn’t shared that with the two boys he was responsible for until apparently this moment. Her magic began swirling again, but she quickly tamped it down.
“Let’s get inside. I’m hungry, and Breena has a lot of questions to answer. Bed after supper. I’m taking Breena into the village at first light.”
“To the village? Can I go?” Bernt asked.
“It’s been so long since you’ve taken us to a town.”
Osborn shook his head. “Not until I know the threat.”
The two boys slumped, then lumbered up the stairs. She was hungry again, too. Strange how the body had a timetable all its own. Her family was lost, she’d wandered around in a wilderness, been attacked, and yet, she could eat like it was any normal day.
“Why do your brothers think so little of girls?” she asked when they were alone.
His gaze lowered to her lips. Then fell to her breasts, and her nipples tightened and poked at the material of her shirt. “If you tell yourself a woman is good for only one thing, then you don’t miss all the other things you desire from her.”
His voice was filled with yearning, and so much loneliness she lifted her hand to cup his cheek.
His fingers grasped hers. His palm was callused, his grip tight, reinforcing her earlier musings that he hadn’t spent a lot of time with females.
“Remember what I said? About not being alone with me?” he asked, his expression fierce.
She nodded, unable to take her eyes off his lips.
Osborn lowered his head, his mouth just an inch from her ear. “You’re alone with me.”
A warning, a threat, a promise… His words were all three. A shiver slid down her back. She squeezed her eyes shut tight as the soft touch of his tongue traced the curve of her neck.
“Breena?”
She nodded, wishing for more of this kind of caress. Wishing he wouldn’t send her away in the morning. Wishing for so many things lost. “Get inside.”
Breena slipped out of his unresisting arms, and shut the door firmly behind her. She slumped against the rough wooden door, dragging in air and willing her heartbeat to slow down.
Survive.
Revenge.
She’d do both with Osborne’s aid. Her dream magic was not wrong. Now all she had to do was get him to see it, too.
“DID YOU SEE THAT?” Torben whispered. “She touched him, and he didn’t even yell. Or push her.”
Bernt nodded. “I don’t think things are ever going to be the same again.”
CHAPTER SIX
DINNER WAS A SIMPLE meal of tough bread, dried meat and berries she suspected were picked near the cabin. It was also completely silent. At Elden, dinner was a grand affair, with numerous courses, entertainment and lots and lots of laughter. Here, the three males regarded their food seriously, heads over their plates, and eyes steady on their meals.
“Does anyone know a funny tale?”
Bernt looked at her as if she’d suddenly begun speaking in another language. Her father always told such funny stories about his travels as a youth. Her mother could charm anyone with her tales of legend and myth. Nicolai told a great joke about a traveling king, a chastity belt and a trusted knight complaining about the wrong key.
Her gaze darted to Osborn and she felt her cheeks heat. She’d always thought that the funny part of that joke was that the king handed over a key that didn’t fit. Now she realized it was the knight trying to remove the chastity belt and that the king had purposefully given the wrong key—that was what made the tale funny.
Breena would smack her brother when she saw him. She’d told that joke at least three times. A pang of homesickness chased away her anger. No, if she ever saw Nicolai again, she’d hug him.
“Do you know a funny story?” Bernt asked.
She was alive, she was safe for the moment and her belly was finally getting full. One meal. Breena could snatch one meal, and not worry about her brothers, her home or how she was going to survive tomorrow. Pushing the plate aside, she lowered her voice to that same conspiratorial tone her mother’s took when she was about to relay something interesting.
“Well, did you hear about the king of Alasia who was most displeased with his fortune-teller?”
Both boys leaned forward. “No.”
“He told the king his favorite horse would die. And sure enough, the animal fell dead two days later.”
“Fortune-tellers aren’t real,” Torben said, his voice turning skeptical. She could only imagine where he’d acquired that attitude.
But Breena only gave what she hoped amounted to a mysterious shake of her head. “The king didn’t trust him, either. In fact, he suspected the fortune-teller poisoned the horse so that his prediction would come true. That way, people from all over the kingdom would know of his skills, and give him money to relay their fortunes.”
“What happened next?” Bernt asked.
“The king confronted the fortune-teller and dared him to reveal the date of his own death.”
Bernt was practically squirming in his chair. Had no one told these boys stories? “Why?”
“Because the king was going to kill him,” Osborn said.
Breena smiled over at the clever warrior. “Your brother is right. The king would kill the fortune-teller so that any answer he gave would be wrong, and no one would remember him.”
Torben was off his chair raising an imaginary sword. “So what did he do? Run or challenge him to battle?”
She bit her bottom lip. No wonder her mother had so much fun telling stories around the table. “He did neither.”
“What?” both boys asked.
“He looked the king in the eye, and said, ‘I don’t know the exact day of my death, but I do know that the king will follow me to the grave just two days later.’”
Osborn began to laugh, the sound of it delightfully rusty. She glanced his way and their gazes met. The desire in his gaze made her smile fade. Oh, she knew he wanted her body, but some other need for her lingered in his brown eyes. Her lips parted, and some elemental part of her wished to give him what he hungered for.
“Time for bed,” he told his brothers without breaking his stare.
“What?”
“It’s still early.”
Osborn sighed heavily. “You’ll need your rest if I decide you can go into the village. If.”