The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

28. A Warm Welcome

Chapter twenty-eight

A Warm Welcome

S olveig stared at the prince taking up valuable space in the castle entry. Hatred roiled in her gut at the sight of him, this descendant of the man responsible for her own grandfather’s death. She’d often wondered what would have become of her father had his own lived to old age. Would King Emerson have become the paranoid, unpredictable ruler he was, or would things have been different? Would her life have been different if they hadn’t caught the prince’s grandfather sailing too close to the border without permission? Then her own grandfather’s ship wouldn’t have given chase. The maze of whirlpools along the southeast coast of Osvolta wouldn’t have trapped them in its thrall. Taking minutes only for the ship to succumb. They had named Emerson king that same evening. Their kingdoms’ separate histories set them on opposite sides of a cold war. Their personal history sealed their fates as bitter enemies. She cared little for the whims of her parents now, after all she had learned. But here stood a living descendant of the man who set her life on the catastrophic course it had become, and she hated him for it. Hated everything he stood for, everything he had that she didn’t. Freedom. Power. Hope. She couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Sensing his blue eyes track her up and down as though she were his prey, and not the opposite, she moved slowly, purposefully, to descend the staircase. Dressed in her usual black leather fighting suit, she’d layered it with a turquoise-coloured tabard, its material embroidered with swirling patterns in gleaming copper coloured thread. She’d cinched a jewelled belt around the waist to give it shape. Her black hair twisted into a knot, adorned only by the small daggers that Lord Aldrik had gifted her those years ago.

Even as she came to a stop at her mother’s side, the two young royals continued to stare at each other. Her eyes burned with an unnatural fire. His were cold as ice as the tension grew thick around them.

The prince moved first. A small smirk lifting the right corner of his mouth as he raked his eyes up and down her form. “Princess Pain,” he began. “Reaper, witch, wraith.” He took a step closer, one brow crooked in silent challenge. “Your legend precedes you, and yet still, I expected something a little darker.”

Solveig growled through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing as she slowly lifted one arm as though to reach behind her head to scratch an itch. Her hand curled around the black jewel encrusted hilt of one dagger, letting it fly quickly, before the prince could even blink. So fast he hadn’t the time to move before he found himself pinned to the mahogany door at his back.

Prince Emmerich stared down at where the dagger cut clean through the shoulder of his jacket. Lodging itself in the wood grain before his eyes drew back to the princess. “Your poor aim ruined my jacket.”

“Watch yourself, Prince,” Solveig sneered, stalking toward him with a full-sized dagger now in hand as she crowded into his space. Close enough that the warmth from his body radiated through her clothes as she held the point of the blade against his throat. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it. My aim is unmatched, and I find a threat is useless if its intended recipient dies before I can deliver it.”

Emmerich swallowed. The action causing the dagger to shave away at the days’ old stubble growing on his throat as he brought his eyes to hers. Their breaths mingling, as heat, hatred and respect radiated through him.

“Where did you hide that thing?”

“You have to earn my secrets, prince.” She smirked, raising a brow to match his earlier challenge as she leaned close to pull the dagger from his jacket. The heady amber scent of his skin lingered around her as she placed it back in her bun.

“Enough, Solveig.” The king ordered. She turned to her father before reluctantly withdrawing to her place beside her mother. Leaning a shoulder against the throne, she spun the dagger between her fingers. Her gaze never leaving the prince.

“Well.” Commander Bleeker cleared her throat. “Who knew there were so many ways to deliver a warm welcome?” Her eyes flicked over to the princess. “If that’s how you greet your enemies, sign me up.”

“A fan of daggers, are you, Commander?”

“Oh yes, big fan, he is too.” She gestured to the prince. “Though he would say otherwise right now.”

Solveig’s gaze slid back over to the prince. “You can call me Solveig.”

“I prefer Dark Princess.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” She rolled her eyes, pressing the point of her dagger into the fleshy pad of her right pointer finger until a bead of blood welled on her skin. Without taking her eyes off the prince, she raised it toward her painted red lips, cleaning the blood away with a flick of her tongue. She didn’t miss the flutter of the prince’s throat as he swallowed, his gaze tightening on her mouth.

“When you’re finished,” the king declared, “I have a proposition.” Solveig snapped her eyes back to her father, lowering her hand.

“Since our visiting prince here is determined to uncover the truth behind the deaths, and you are on leave from Luxenal. Who better than you to work with him on this?”

Solveig stiffened. “I’d rather rot in the darkest tunnel of Luxenal.”

“Be careful what you wish for, sister,” Killian muttered.

“I would be honoured,” Emmerich replied with fake sweetness.

“Stay out of my way, Prince, and maybe you’ll return home with all your limbs still attached.”

“Promises, promises, Princess,” Emmerich smirked, earning him a glare.

“Then it’s settled,” the king ordered. “Servants, take the prince and his companion to their rooms.” His head turned to his daughter. “Solveig, a word.” But she did not remove her gaze from the prince until he was far enough down the hall that she could no longer see him.

“Solveig,” her father snapped.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“You’re to watch them. Learn what you can. You’ll be his escort around the city. Whatever it takes to uncover their secrets, do it. We cannot pass up this golden opportunity.”

“You remember I am engaged, right?” she said, absentmindedly twisting her brand-new engagement ring.

“Whatever it takes. Solveig. You can escort him to The Gathering this afternoon.”

Killian and the king left, leaving Solveig alone with her mother.

“This is your last chance. Do this and you’ll be free to live your life as you choose.”

“Free from the mines? Of the engagement? Free of this place?”

“Baby steps, dear. First gather the information, then we’ll talk.” And with that, the queen left as well.

Solveig, overwhelmed by her rising frustration, threw the dagger she held straight at the wooden doors. Narrowly missing a servant’s head, not stopping to apologise before she stalked back to her own chambers. Wondering how she was supposed to get close enough to her enemy that he would eat out of her palm. Her magic couldn’t help her here. This was all down to her and her winning charm… they had screwed her before she even started.