The Beast of Salt (Saga of the Gods #1)

44. Sigvid

44

SIGVID

Two Weeks Ago

December 1st, Year 100, 9th Era

Thrain’s Home, Salt Province

“ B rother!” Sigvid’s roar scatters passersby as he tears up the steps to Thrain’s home. He yanks the front door off the rusty hinge. “You fucking ass! I am going to rip your heart from your chest and fucking eat it!”

He already nearly demolished the tavern inside after claiming his Avina. Self-control is a short commodity for Sigvid, but today, he exhausted every ounce he possessed and is ready to ride out his devastation.

A few servant women inside the house scream, scampering away from his crimson eyes. His footsteps shudder the floorboards while his roar threatens to tear down the walls. He dismissively tosses the door into the crackling fire.

“Thrain! We have to fucking talk. Get the fuck out here! You fucking coward! Fucking two-faced snake!” A mini-earthquake erupts along the floorboards from the depth of his tone, raining dust upon the front room.

Sigvid will obliterate his entire family home if his brother refuses to show up. He kicks over the long table so it bounces into the fire, instantly igniting the wood. He then heaves the chairs through the windows, shattering the glass.

“Prince Sigvid?” Helga jogs out of the hallway to the bedrooms, tying a forest green robe around her athletic body. Her legs and arms are bare, and her raven hair falls loose.

Obviously, she is working for the enemy today.

“What in the Briny God’s name are you doing?” She demands.

He finishes smashing the last chair to splinters before stalking toward Helga, his berserker voice low.

“Do you know what Thrain has done?” He growls.

There is no way she does not know. Is that not her role as his spy?

Thrain will rule Treland and then bury Avina in the dark confines of some castle as her father had.

“Fucking fuck!” He rips the tapestry of Salt off the wall, barely aware of his destruction.

Helga holds up her hands and speaks calmly, “My Lord, please, you must fully understand-”

“Understand what?” He forces the tapestry into the flames of the hearth. “How he fucked me over?”

“Fucked you over?” She wraps her arms around her chest, glowering at him. “How exactly did Thrain betray you, my Lord?”

“By laying claim, he does not have on Avina! My shit brother knows better!”

Helga sighs. “Were you planning a proposal to the Queen of Timber, who you infamously keep as a whore in your home, I might add?” She raises a brow.

He pauses mid-breaking of a small wooden table. Once displayed prettily on top, the large glass bowl of seashells shatters on the floor.

“I …well I…” Sigvid snaps the table in half and lets the pieces clatter to the floor atop the glass. “Avina is mine! And I will do with her as I please!”

Helga grabs the front of his tunic and shoves him back into an empty bedroom. With a quick look around, she slams the door behind them.

“Prince Sigvid, listen to me!” She jabs her pointer finger in his face. “You know Thrain is a greedy, slimy hack whose actions are growing increasingly drastic. Admit you care for the Queen of Timber, and this fury is because you hold affection for her, maybe even love her.”

Sigvid takes a deep breath to bellow a retort. Instead, he hesitates. He repeats but still cannot find suitable words. He slams down into an armchair and mumbles, “Maybe I do.”

She sighs and sits on the small bed slid against the wall. Neither of them utters a word for several breaths. Helga breaks the silence first. “She didn't say ‘yes’ to Thrain. I was there.”

“I will make that fucking ass pay for this.”

She sits with her legs crossed, examining her cuticles. “I had a too-close-for-comfort seat of you expressing your affection for Queen Avina in your Arena cell. You and Thrain could use a lesson in how to approach women.” She leans back, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

He looks away, unable to meet her gaze. “Thank you, Helga, for bringing that up again.” His snark drips from his tone.

She narrows her eyes, and he resigns a sigh.

“I know what I did to her. And I know it was wrong.” He summons the image from the Arena of her big blue orbs gazing up at him behind her curtain of frazzled golden curls. Dirt and grime coated her naked body, and it did not matter.

She is still the most lovely creature on this plane of existence. Even if her mind trapped his soul before her curves even had a chance.

Avina is the Queen Treland deserves. If that is the crown she wishes to wear, I will ensure she has my protection—even if it kills me.

“I could not help myself at the Arena. I never can with Avina.” Sigvid breathes out a sigh and looks back to Helga.

“He threatened Avina with the lives of Thora, Frida, and you, my Lord.” She whispers. “The Queen confessed,” Helga sighs, “well, she adores you, and her declaration was diplomatic, even if Thrain had other intentions.”

My little Queen, you deserve to know how I feel for you.

And Thrain deserves my axe through his chest .

“We must get Mum and Thora to safety.” He is still breathing heavily from the rage and crushes the chair he is sitting in with one swipe of his fist.

For good measure.

She nods. “Carefully, though. Thrain needs Treland to see their union as mutually agreed upon and that you hate Queen Avina for it. He fears the retaliation of the armies if he has coerced her. I can keep him busy. He is hyper-focused on planning his damned coronation. Get Thora and Frida out before he decides to place pressure on Avina. I worry she may not be able to withstand him.”

Present

December 14th, Year 100, 9th Era

Blackwood Inn, Salt Province

S igvid tosses the wet towel on his bed, not bothering to throw on a pair of trousers over his naked figure. Grim and Thora spend more time in town than at Blackwood so he can remain in his stag lifestyle even with his little Queen’s presence.

I have nearly deciphered Father’s coded journal pages. Briny God, I hope I am wrong.

When he enters his study, solitude does not greet him. Instead, a strange man sits in one of his armchairs reading a book. In one hand, he cradles a glass with enough red wine to drown three people. Although he wears a tight Salt tunic and trousers, he has the same regal air as Avina. Fuck, even his nose supporting his reading spectacles reminds him of his little Queen.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sigvid demands as his blood pressure rises from the disturbance. His arms cross over his thick chest.

The stranger lifts his head, peering at Sigvid over his glasses. “Oh my.” He smirks while his eyes land firmly on his cock. “Mmm, hello Lord Thordsson. Well, now I see why she kept that collar.”

The stranger stands. “Is it Sigvid? Or do you prefer the Beast?”

Sigvid’s left eye twitches. “Most people state their intentions clearly to avoid my fucking axe in their skull.”

“Oh, we are tightly wound. Avina warned me about your temper.” He stretches, clutching the goblet and the book with the romance title outward.

Sigvid cracks his neck and is about to physically relocate this uppity prick to the porch when he hears giggling from the opposite end of the hall.

“...and I told Lod it was snowberry juice!” Thora cackles along with Avina.

“Sigvid…” Avina’s voice trails off as she and Thora appear in the doorway and take in his very naked body.

“Dammit, Uncle Sig! You are embarrassing me!” Thora spits as she averts her eyes.

“Language, Thora.” Avina reprimands.

“Sorry, Aunt V.”

“Now that everyone is here, can someone introduce me to…” Sigvid glares at the stranger.

“Duke Bertram Alexandrite. Avina’s father and my mother are siblings.” He flashes a toothy smile.

Avina mutters, sliding the fox scarf from around her neck and wrapping it around Sigvid’s waist. “This is my cousin, Bertie. He is staying with us for a while. He got in late last night, and Slode has been watching over him.”

I bet Slode has. Sigvid clutches the fur to his member and drops his gaze to Avina’s sweet, pleading eyes.

The gods created you to torture me at every corner, did they not?

“Welcome, Wine Lord, to the Blackwood Inn.” Snark seems to be the only reliable friend he has these days.

Avina flinches. “Come on, Bertie. Thora is going into town. Why don’t you join her?” The three of them disappear, leaving Sigvid needing a more substantial distraction than reading.

After begrudgingly throwing on clothes, he reclines in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs at the long table in the central space of Blackwood. Black tattoo pigment and needles scatter the surface, allowing him to expand his tally marks.

After the shit continued to pour in, he has yet to update his count. By his calculation, he has well over three hundred kills by his hand alone, including the battles before the Arena.

Every dark slash stood as a reminder to his people of who protects them from the monsters of the Endless Shore continent and a further reminder to himself of his responsibility as their Prince.

But he will reserve a special line for Lord Leto, the bastard who has set so much in motion in the first place.

“What are you up to?” Avina’s voice warms the void where his heart should beat.

She emerges from the kitchen stairs with Nellie and Carrot Chubs quick at her heels. She drinks in his bare, inked chest and the scattered items between his fists.

“Adding to my collection.” He grumps.

“Your marks of how many men you have slain?” She takes the spare chair across the table from him, poking at the pigment jar.

“Yes.”

Why must she loiter here when the entire lodge is at her disposal?

For over two weeks, he has done a piss poor job keeping her at arm’s length. Enough distance to satisfy his cock, yet somehow not fucking far enough. No matter how his insides twist over the situation, keeping her safe is more important than anything else. Even if it means concealing his devotion to his Queen, lest he inadvertently warn Thrain and trigger the death of his mother and Thora.

“You must have hundreds to add since your time in the Arena.” She releases the ceramic jar, creaking back in her chair.

“I have not had a chance to expand until now.” Sigvid growls as he taps two dashes into his skin, “And even more after tonight. Lord Leto to start.”

“I’m sorry. Even while you were in the Arena, I tried to uncover Leto’s identity.” She slumps into the chair with her hands in her lap. “Bertie did mention the name sounds like a ‘wager wig,’ a name used by a nobleman in Ridge gambling dens.”

“How do I find these? I will force Leto to Salt.”

She shakes her head with a sad smile. “They are ever-changing. Besides I,” she glances down at her hands with flushed cheeks. “I know you still hate me because of Thrain.” She squeezes her eyes together as if the words are fire upon her lips, “But if you left Salt, I couldn’t bear the thought of separating from you right now.”

I cannot bear the sight of her in this much agony. Once my Drengr extract Thora and Mother to Sjoby, Thrain will suffer.

Without looking at her, Sigvid holds out his hand.

Her soft hand trembles as it gently slips into his palm.

With a light squeeze, he assures her, “You will not leave my side.”

He risks a glance into her deep blues. I am going to regret this, he thinks.

He finds agony reflected in them. The ache in his heart is like someone squeezing a tourniquet around his chest, and he nearly breaks the facade and embraces the woman he would sell his soul to protect.

“Shit!” He releases her as a tickling sensation creeps over his arm where he has just added the new tallies. Except, now they are gone.

“Sigvid?” Her wavering voice spells terror.

He rolls his shoulder with a grin. “You must maintain distance as I complete my tattoos, Keeper.”

She twirls a loose curl. Her lips dip into a frown.

He gently takes her chin and tilts her to view his arm. She inhales sharply.

“I failed to explain your additional Keeper powers.” He strokes her jaw with his thumb. “You can heal my wounds, and I can see you while you are invisible.”

She gapes and then swiftly recovers.

Fuck Thrain and his fucking intimidation. “I have an early Solstice gift for you.”

“Something for me?” She jumps to her feet and then looks far too squeamish for his taste. “What do you want? You have been terse with me since the incident with Thrain.” She recoils, her lips curling.

It takes him longer than a moment to realize her disgust is directed at him.

Sigvid shifts under her bluntness, unable to admit he knows his brother's threats against everyone. At least, not yet. Not while Thrain can still hurt her. “Sit down and remain here.”

“No!” She shouts, startling him. “You rush home every night to exert an ownership over me. You taunt him publicly. And now Thrain has surmised…” Her chest heaves as her face reddens. “You punished me for accepting the marriage and not once sought to know me enough to understand, and I cannot take it a moment longer, Sigvid!” She gestures uncharacteristically.

“You are dismantling my heart bit by bit. Each night, you curl me into your arms, and I naively believe we finally cross a bridge toward the lowered walls from the night of the gathering.” She glowers at him. “Until you abandon me every day.”

He stares at her, rubbing his hands together. Fuck, what have I done?

“You cannot now,” she settles herself with several deep breaths, “manipulate me with a gift.”

He strokes his braid as if trying to shove it off his skull.

“I expect other men to bully me, to take advantage of my lack of support, or even disregard me as a mere woman.” She shakes her head, striding toward him. “Not you. Never you.”

“Avina,” he takes a hesitant step closer, desperately wanting to embrace his woman, “I fucked up.”

Here, I vowed to protect her from the very torment I caused .

“But I know about Thrain’s threat.”

She stumbles away from him. “You knew? And you still treated me like I was your mindless slave? How dare you! My only concern is keeping you, Frida, and Thora safe! Dammit, Sigvid, you have no idea the heartbreak you wreck over me,” her voice catches in her throat. “You know the desolate gloom I fight against. It's as if my own heart seeks my downfall. And I needed you more than anyone else during the last two weeks!”

“I never wanted this for you.” His adoration for her is betrayed in the longing of his words. “I needed to keep Thrain believing the lie.”

“But Thrain suspects! Your actions are why he assumes you may know this is not amicable. He knows war brews on the horizon and will do anything to avoid confronting you on the battlefield.”

That fucking spineless ass .

“I have done nothing but make you feel worse.” He closes the distance between them. “Avina, I,” his words catch in his throat this time, “never wanted you to feel this way.”

What damage have I wrought?

“All I want is to shield you from everyone, little one.” He clutches her upper arms, willing her torment to melt into his soul.

“Can you shield me from yourself?”

“I told you once, Avina, I am not a good man.” He swallows back his pain, “I cannot let you go.”

She snorts. “What am I to you?”

“Everything. You are everything to me, Avina.”

Her features soften, and she drops her intense gaze to the floor. At last, she clears her throat.

“Maybe I should have trusted you to protect us from the beginning. My mind,” she sighs, “was drowning in the despair of losing you, Frida, or Thora. I couldn’t bear being the cause of such loss.”

“My Avina, if I could storm your soul and cast away the shadows that plague your steps, I would have done so already. I should have trusted your resilience.” He cups her cheek.

He watches the surprise flicker in her eyes. “I watch you from the second you rise to the moment your head falls upon the pillow. Even if I am not nearby, I know you are safe.” He wraps his arms tightly around his little Queen, savoring the beat of her heart. “When I say you are mine, I mean every single fucking fiber of you. From this point forward, I suggest we are completely honest with one another.”

She wiggles in her attempt to pull away, “I am hon-”

He presses his lips to hers to silence her lovely lies. “No more of these fucking half-truths or avoidance from either of us. We tell each other everything, understand? I need to know what is in your heart and mind.”

She fucking hesitates. “That is too much.”

“Did I fucking say I do not want to hear every breath of your day? When have I ever indicated I want a silent woman? I need your voice as a prominent fixture in my senses.”

She shakes her head. “You do not understand. Sometimes, I fear my spirit is broken. You could not possibly wish to hear of my struggles.”

He holds her against his chest, stroking her soft curls. “My Queen,” his lips linger in her hair, “If I could hold a mirror to your spirit, you would see a thoughtful mind and a heart bursting with compassion. When will you realize that every godsdamn person who crosses your path is undeserving of the air you breathe?” Without hesitation, he adds, “Including me.”

She catches his wrist and tugs his hand over her heart.

“You are not a soul broken beyond repair.” He clutches her chest as if she might fall away. “I relish your darkness as if it is the rays that keep a flower flourishing in the harsh fjords. If I must spend every waking moment of my life at your side so that you may reach into the crevices of your being and find the inner strength that I see in you,” he kisses the top of her head, “well then, I shall arrive in the Depths a fulfilled man.”

At the tip of his tongue lives that little word he burns to utter. She deserves to know that she is more than his pleasure slave. She deserves everything he can give her.

Sigvid pulls her lips to the crushing ferocity of his own, pouring all of the unspoken affection of the last two weeks into his physical touch.