The Queen and Her Brook Horse by Amalia Dillin

Author:Amalia Dillin [Dillin, Amalia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adult, Fantasy, romance, Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9781985265691
Publisher: Thorskona Books
Published: 2018-02-22T05:00:00+00:00

At first, she did not think twice about the gray-cloaked peddler, with his horse-drawn cart of oddities, when she glimpsed him out the window. But an out of place whicker made her look again, her heart skipping with want, however impossible it might be.

A month since she’d last seen Isolfur. Since he’d promised her he would find some way that made the time spent apart easier on them both. A month spent seeing to her sons and submitting to Ragnar’s guarding, for of course Isolfur had healed her breasts, and without the excuse of hunting healing herbs and plants, she had no means by which to make herself free again. A month, and she was sure she imagined that it was Isolfur pulling the strange peddler’s cart.

But when his hide shivered, shining bright and white as seafoam in the sun, she felt it echo down her spine. A moment later, he lifted his head, and despite the distance, she knew he met her eyes. She made a noise, uncertain if it were prompted by bone-deep fear or heart-wrenching joy, half-swallowed and strange.

“Are you well, my lady?” Frida asked, her voice low. “A sip of wine, perhaps, to help clear your throat?”

“Yes,” Signy agreed at once, conscious then of the eyes of the other women.

Wives of those nobles who spent the majority of their time at Gunnar’s court, and daughters of those from farther afield who were as much hostages against their fathers’ loyalties as they were the king’s mistresses. Whether they realized it or not—and Signy was not certain they did, nor would she be the one to tell them. Better if they believed themselves his favorites, honored by his attentions rather than another means by which Gunnar exerted his control. They’d learn the awful truth the moment one of their father’s offended his king, and preparing oneself for what came after would do nothing at all to soften the blow. That much, she knew too well.

She sipped from the cup Frida put in her hand, struggling to compose herself, but could not quite keep her attention from returning to the window, and Isolfur below. Frida followed her gaze, eyebrows rising. “A peddler!”

“Hm?” Signy said, pretending disinterest.

“Oh, my lady. His horse is a thing of beauty.”

Signy swallowed, dropping her eyes. “Indeed he is.”

And the old man was a fool to have brought him here, whatever the brook horse had promised him in exchange. Gunnar would covet Isolfur, almost certainly, and he would not hesitate to slit the man’s throat to have him.

She shifted her gaze to the children, asleep in their baskets by the fire at their nurse’s feet. Likely they would sleep until supper, and even if they did not, Gunnar would be pleased to see Signy giving them up to another’s care for a time. He complained bitterly that she spoiled and cosseted them, and whether that was because she had not taken his seed again yet, or because he truly felt she would weaken his sons, she was not certain and did not mean to find out.

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