Torden gave another quiet laugh. “Well, it helps, anyway.” Then he paused, considering. “We live for Norge. The kingdom needs us at our strongest. Besides, is there anything like it?”

“Like—sweat dripping in your eyes? Like screaming lungs and a side stitch and people watching me fail?” I shook my head. “If I could avoid being in the public eye forever—avoid all that pressure—I would do it.”

Torden hesitated, scratching at his beard, squinting at me. “Who cares about the people watching?”

Spoken truly like a boy who’s never been teased in his life.

Or, my brain rejoined, like one who’s been teased all his life and knows how to give it right back.

“No one knows how many years he has, Seneschal-elect. Life is short and death is certain.” Torden shot me a glance, tugging absently at the top button of his shirt. I gulped and dropped my eyes. “So every moment I am aboveground and not below it, I want to feel the difference. We’ll all be in our graves soon enough.”

I smiled at my shoes. “Your profile failed to mention what a philosopher you were.”

He opened his mouth, but Hermódr cut off his reply; the boys had quit scrapping. “Time for a horseback ride?”

Torden got to his feet. “Let’s see if you like to ride as much as you think you do.” He offered me a hand up, smile unreadable.

Bear had been sullen, cynical, romantic, and charming by turns—emotional, and disposed to talk about it. I’d understood him.

I had no idea what to make of the boy in front of me, or what to do with him, except to play his game and see if I liked it.

And what does it mean if you do? It’s too soon for any of this to be real.

But I pushed back.

No. What I had with Bear wasn’t real.

But this could be.

I needed it to be.

Everything calling me home—my father, my fear of Alessandra’s plans—needed this to work.

I swallowed hard and swatted Torden’s arm away, dragging myself upright. Though my legs were weary, I jogged past him after Hermódr. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

Torden cocked his head, amused. “My horse is very fast.”

“I meant keep up with me in general,” I called over my shoulder, grinning. His smile broadened, and he broke into a run.

40

Konge Alfödr’s stables were a thing of wonder, home to row after row of enormous beasts bred to be ridden by warriors. As we trotted into the paddock on the backs of black-coated Friesians and dun-colored Fjord horses, the wind flapped the hem of my dress and pulled loose strands from Anya’s halo braid. Skop couldn’t look away from her face.

“Easy,” I muttered.

Skop shook his head. “She’s glorious. A sweet force of nature.”