SYLVIA

  The touch of his lips on hers sent a shiver down her spine. They had been together for so long, yet every moment with him felt as electric as the first. The primal passion between them had not waned; she desired him constantly, in every fleeting opportunity. Even now, within the cold stone walls of the kingdom, his warm body radiated heat into her. She could stay entwined with him for hours, days, a lifetime if she wished.

  Volkar was far from her dream home, and truthfully, she preferred the warmer lands of the south. But when she was with Riven, none of that mattered. She loved lying beside his warm body at night, feeling the pulse of life thrumming through every part of him. During the day, when their duties called, she admired his confident gaze and the way he commanded her. Though she believed herself stronger in battle, he always made the right decisions, leading them to victory time and again. Well, almost every time. She recalled the incident at Ulfric's tavern, but that was in the past. Whenever she brought it up, his usually calm demeanor would transform into something fierce, the same barbarian intensity he displayed only in battle.

  But none of that mattered now. It was morning, and he was in her arms. Sylvia ran her hand across his waist, digging her nails into his skin and pulling him closer. He let out a soft grunt of pain, his eyes briefly closing. Then he looked at her again as a thin trickle of blood ran down her fingers. Riven pulled away slightly, glancing at the blood dripping from his back, and bared his teeth. His black hair fell over his eyes, his dusky face blending into the shadows, leaving only his dark eyes glowing. She laughed, and he roughly turned her onto her stomach. She liked that too.

  But every fantasy and pleasure died when she heard her name, followed by knocks on the door of their small room at the edge of the kingdom:

  “Sylvia…”

  They both froze, listening. She saw in Riven's eyes that he was not pleased.

  “Sylvia... Riven!”

  The voice was still quiet but insistent. They had to open the door. She knew, and he likely did too, who was looking for them. The voice was familiar. But if it was him, they had to answer. It was always something important.

  Riven rose quickly, pulling on his brown trousers. She remained lying on her back, watching his lean, tall figure as it moved to open the door instead of staying with her. A morning ray pierced his back. Outside, the air smelled fresh, and the sea crashed against the rocks.

  Riven opened the door, his body blocking her view of their guest. All she could see was the darkness of the corridor beyond. The good thing was that light flooded into their room. The bad thing was that to reach this place, one had to navigate long, dark tunnels lit by two, at most three, candles. She hated the wolfish kingdom, preferring the warmer southern lands.

  “May I come in?” asked the familiar voice.

  Sylvia, still naked, covered herself with the white sheets and stayed in bed. Riven stepped aside, and the familiar man entered. He was tall, with black hair shorter than Riven's, and a gaze that could make you trust him completely—right up until the moment he killed you when your back was turned. Riven waited for him to enter, checked the corridor for any others, and shut the door behind him. He pulled up one of the wooden chairs and sat down. The man found the other chair and did the same.

  An awkward silence settled between them before anyone spoke, with glances thrown in all directions around the room. Riven wasn’t much of a talker and was unlikely to start the conversation. So Sylvia spoke first.

  “Garvin?” Sylvia tried to make his name sound dignified, but her half-naked state caused his gaze to wander.

  “Sylvia?” He responded with a question of his own and removed his hood. His eyes were almost identical to Riven’s. He was her type, but she would never choose him over Riven. There was something sinister and secretive about Garvin. She disliked such people. Riven might speak rarely, but when he did, it was always direct and unfiltered.

  Sylvia found her light robe, crumpled among the heavy blankets on the wooden bed, and began to put it on slowly in front of Garvin. He looked away.

  “As if you’ve never seen a woman before.”

  “Certainly not in front of her man.”

  “Relax, you have nothing that surpasses Riven,” she told him, bluntly honest.

  “Of that, I’m sure,” Garvin replied, glancing at Riven, who remained silent, showing no interest in their conversation. But he surely wanted to know why Garvin was here. As did she.

  “Look, I have a job for you.”

  “I didn’t expect you to come for anything else. What is it this time? Do we need to steal something? Or kill someone? You know we’re not into killings. We barely escaped from Ulfric’s tavern... And as for what you promised…”

  “We’ll discuss the tavern another time. And as for what I promised, I’ve already paid you more than you were due.”

  “Oh, how brazen!” Sylvia pulled on her pants, which she only wore when a journey awaited. It was clear they would accept and that they’d have to leave immediately. Riven continued sitting half-naked by the door, watching them. Even now, he excited her so much that she would have jumped on him right then. Garvin’s presence didn’t bother her.

  “That time, Ulfric misled me,” Garvin continued, his gaze flicking between Sylvia and Riven. “He said the Sops brothers would be there.”

  “And instead, we ran into the whole Black Brotherhood, huh? And why should I believe you had nothing to do with it?”

  “I had something to do with it. I sent you there, didn’t I? The rest was a misunderstanding, which I’ve since smoothed over with them—and with you. If you recall, I paid you much more than I was supposed to. But the Sops brothers are still at large, unfortunately.”

  “Strange. Someone said they were sent to Thorn.”

  “Sadly, we weren’t that lucky.”

  “No, Garvin.” Sylvia’s tone surprised even herself as she raised her voice. “We’re not going after them again. I don’t understand why you’re so fixated on those two, but I refuse. And I won’t even ask Riven if he agrees. I know he doesn’t. Even though he would accept almost any job.”

  “He will agree. Unlike you, he doesn’t pick and choose and likes the money.”

  “I like money too. But I also like my life.”

  “I don’t care about the Sops.” Garvin hurried to change the subject. “I have another task for you, much sweeter than that. And probably the easiest one you’ve ever had.”

  “Just talk money.”

  “The king is getting married?”

  “Severin?” Sylvia looked at Riven. “What happened to the queen? It’s true we don’t get out much, especially not during the day, but how could we miss something like that?”

  “I’m talking about Bromir. Your future king.”

  “That little lordling isn’t likely to become king anytime soon.”

  Garvin stood abruptly, his gaze shifting. Riven tracked him with his eyes and suddenly reached toward the mattress. Sylvia knew most of the hiding spots for his knives, but under the mattress?

  “Stay calm, Riven,” Garvin noticed. “You’re not under threat. Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with you. Do you think I’d come here just to kill you? Me? When I could simply send two or three guards?”

  “Two or three would be too few.”

  Garvin sat back down, took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly, and began again:

  “First, if you draw a weapon on me again, you’ll find yourselves in a ditch outside the kingdom. And if you’re lucky, you might still be alive. And second, be careful how you speak about Bromir because he is the one under whose roof you sleep, for whom you work, and who allows you to act like more than the peasants you truly are.”

  Sylvia didn’t respond. Riven continued to watch Garvin with the same look. Riven admired him in a way and always spoke highly of him. Yes, Garvin provided them with shelter and work, but she always saw something sneaky in him. However, Riven revered him, saying he was the smartest man he knew. But he only said that to her, never to Garvin.

  “Haven’t I provided you with one of the best servant rooms in the kingdom?”

  “And the coldest,” Sylvia interrupted again.

  “You have access to the king’s dinners every night.”

  “We scrape the leftovers, to be honest. But we don’t complain about the food. We’ve eaten worse slop.”

  “And you have the protection of the royal guard.”

  “Well, Riven could handle at least five of them on his own. You could have left that last part out.”

  Garvin’s cold eyes met hers again. She enjoyed playing this game with him.

  “Still, very few people in the kingdom can boast about what I’ve just listed.”

  “We’ve earned all of it, Garvin. Yes, we live well here, but we’ve worked for it with these,” Sylvia raised one hand, then the other, “these hands. And we’re your loyal dogs. Aren’t we?”

  Garvin placed a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes with his whole hand.

  “Do we have to go through this every time, Sylvia? Riven,” he turned to the other man in the room, “say something. Defend me from your wife. She’s riling me up again, and we’re wasting both my time and yours.” Garvin glanced at the unmade bed. “Then again, who knows about your time? Maybe you take breaks from screwing each other all day long.”

  “Get to the point, Garvin.” Riven’s heavy voice and the coldness in his tone made even Sylvia’s smile freeze. Finally, he spoke. Sometimes she grew tired of his silence, but when he did speak, she regretted wanting him to. He exuded power, making her feel weak. She didn’t like feeling weak.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Straight to the point. The prince is getting married.”

  “Bromir?”

  “Bromir.”

  “Strange. I’ve seen him around the brothel a few times. Honestly, I expected to see his brother there, not him.” Sylvia stopped abruptly and continued quietly, “I’ve said something I shouldn’t have, haven’t I?”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you this time.”

  “Well, men do that,” she looked at Riven, “even mine would go.”

  “How do you know he doesn’t?”

  “I just know.” The question irritated her. “So what if Bromir’s getting married? You don’t expect us to hold the princess’s dress, do you? Or sew the ladies’ gowns in the palace. That would be too much.”

  “You will ensure the wedding happens.”

  “Speak plainly, Garvin.”

  “The southern kingdoms will be invited personally by the king.”

  “No.” Sylvia realized where this was going.

  “I want you to head north,” Garvin continued.

  “No!” she repeated. It felt like a punishment. She didn’t believe in fate or gods, but just as she was thinking about the warm kingdoms, the sun, the deserts, and the hot sand, now they had to head north. “You can’t send us there again, Garvin. We just got back.”

  “It’s been a long time since you returned, and it wasn’t recent. Besides, you’ll have royal passes with seals. I’ll provide you with men from the kingdom’s guards. I can even find a knight or two, but if you ask me, they’re useless outside the kingdom.”

  “No.” Riven stood, startling Garvin again, who raised his hands to protect himself but quickly lowered them. “We don’t want an army or any of your men. Give us the details. What do we need to do?”

  “Wait, Riven!” Sylvia found the strength to intervene. “Why are you deciding without me? Shouldn’t we discuss this?”

  “Look, I don’t want to listen to your arguments. You have the option to accept or leave the kingdom. We made an agreement, and that hasn’t changed. If you accept, you’ll be paid handsomely. If you refuse, you’ll leave this room and the kingdom before the wedding. It’s that simple.”

  “What do we need to do?” Riven had already decided. It wasn’t that she was angry; she was upset that he didn’t want to hear her.

  “Pass through Chernoval and invite King Zoran on behalf of King Severin of Volkar. If he has any questions, answer them. You’ll present yourselves as messengers of the kingdom. There’s no need for him to know who you are. He’ll likely offer you to stay for the night. Accept if you wish. I doubt you’ll refuse. Chernoval is quite pleasant.”

  “And then?” Sylvia quickly asked.

  “Then return. With them if you wish, or on your own.”

  “So you want us to do the job of a pigeon. To travel through the kingdoms, pretend to be polite, and dine with kings and princes while we pretend to like them?”

  “I’ll pay you more than a pigeon.”

  “We’ll do it, Garvin.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you will. And I’m counting on you. First, tame your wife, then get the job done. I’d give it solely to you, but I know you can’t be without each other.”

  “You’re exceptionally kind sometimes,” Sylvia chimed in. She took the key from Garvin’s hand. It was beautiful and appeared valuable. She had something similar, though not made of gold. She kept it close to her chest. It was a carved heart in a piece of wood. Her sister had given it to her the last time they saw each other. But that was so long ago that she didn’t even know where her sister was or if she was even alive. If it ever came to choosing which to keep, she would throw away the key. Sometimes she missed her sister.

  Sylvia looked at Riven. He was ready and willing. She could tell just from his gaze. So why were they still discussing it?

  “And who will go to Iskhold and the capital?”

  “I’ve taken care of Iskhold. And something tells me Hakon won’t be keen on coming. As for the capital,” Garvin laughed, “do you really think they’ll let someone like you in there? We’ll handle that differently. But there’s something else I want you to do,” Garvin continued. “You must return before the wedding. I don’t care if you come back with the people of Chernoval or with the capital’s army. Not that they’ll take you, but you must return, preferably before them.”

  “We’ll be here, Garvin.” Riven was promising on her behalf again.

  “I’m counting on you.”

  “Just him?”

  Garvin didn’t answer her and only smiled. She rarely saw him smile, and he was quite handsome when he did.

  “So?” Garvin opened his hands. “When do you leave?”

  “Wait.” Riven stood. “There’s a village down by the border with Mayhar, near the Middle Sea.”

  “Moonstone?”

  Riven nodded.

  “Let me guess, you want Moonstone?”

  “I want land there when all this is done.”

  Garvin considered it, and since he didn’t refuse outright, there was a chance. Sylvia knew why Riven was doing this. He was doing it for her. He knew how much she loved the warm weather, and there, even still within Volkar’s borders, it was warm. They had passed through a few times over the years. To the south were the beautiful Mayharian flower valleys, to the west were the mountains sheltering the village, and to the east was the vast sea. She adored it.

  “Fine, but you’ll have to do something else for me.” The tall morning intruder smiled slyly, as if waiting for this moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “I know how much you love taverns and inns,” Garvin stood, approached Riven’s shirt draped over the bed, and slipped the note into one of its pockets. “When you reach Chernoval, stop by the largest inn, and when a black-haired singer appears, give her this note.”

  “How will we recognize her?” Sylvia asked a logical question.

  Garvin looked at Riven.

  “Trust your man. He has a nose for women.”

  She didn’t know how to react to that. So she said nothing.

  “And then we’ll get the lands?”

  “Return before the wedding, and if everything goes well, you’ll have all of Moonstone.”

  “How will you know everything went well?”

  “Trust me, I’ll know.”

  “All the lands?”

  “All the estates and the large house of Lord Kravets that overlooks the sea.”

  “Do we have your word?”

  “If you do everything right, I have no reason not to give them to you. The wedding will bring many changes, and changes come with new people. Help me, and Bromir will help you.”

  “A new order? What’s going to happen?” Sylvia was curious.

  “That’s none of our concern,” Riven cut her off. Garvin nodded. He agreed. “I hold you to your word, Garvin.”

  Garvin opened his hands again and nodded.

  “What happens if we fail or don’t return?”

  “I don’t believe you will, but if you do, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure there’s nowhere for you to hide. And even if I don’t find you now, I will someday. And the punishments for those who oppose the new order will be far harsher than those under King Severin.”

  “But you keep mentioning this new order. What’s so special about it?”

  “You’ll find out when the time comes. For now, I’m glad we have an agreement. I’ve prepared two of my best horses for you.”

  “We want a cart too.” Riven’s voice sounded again.

  “A cart?” Garvin pondered. “I can get you one, but it won’t be anything special. Just planks on wheels.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Even if it doesn’t have a roof. The journey is short, but I don’t want to walk.”

  “No need to explain. There’ll be a cart waiting for you with the stable boy.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “You have as long as you need to finish what you were doing before I came in. After that, it might be time to leave.” Garvin glanced around the room and smiled again in that infuriating way.

  Sylvia opened her mouth, but when she saw Riven rise again, she fell silent.

  “I want a new sword too.”

  “What about this one?” Garvin pointed to Riven’s sword, propped against the wall. “That’s better than anything the blacksmith can make in such a short time.”

  “Yes. I need another one. Ordinary. The most ordinary.”

  “What do you need it for?” Garvin asked but quickly changed his mind. “Fine, that’s your business. Stop by the blacksmith before you leave.”

  Garvin smiled, opened the door, and disappeared through it. Sylvia hadn’t heard the latch click before she jumped on Riven and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  ***

  “What do you think, Riven?” Garvin held a sword with a dark brown hilt and a finely crafted blade that beautifully reflected the light streaming through the small windows of the forge.

  Sylvia hadn’t expected to see Garvin at the blacksmith’s, but regretted not anticipating it.

  Riven took the sword from Bromir’s advisor’s hand and flexed his wrist a few times.

  “No. This is too good.”

  “I don’t understand you, Riven. This is the worst Anders can make. Over forty blades leave here every day. You don’t expect any of them to be bad, do you? They’re used to protect the kingdom, not hunt rabbits.”

  Garvin took the sword from his hand and gently placed it with the others. There, hundreds of blades lay, waiting to be taken into someone’s hand and do the work they were forged for.

  “I don’t have anything worse to offer you. We have a standard we don’t fall below. After all, the king demands the best.”

  Sylvia watched the blacksmith. He was a young man with blond hair, not in his prime but not old either. Soot had covered his face, making it look as though it would never return to its former state. Instead of a beard, he had a few blond stubble hairs, and from the fire and heat in the forge, the whites of his eyes were tinged with red, and his brown pupils were almost invisible, making his eyes so dark they seemed like holes in the darkness.

  “What about this?” Sylvia held a small sword. It resembled the larger one Anders had offered, but it was three times smaller. Sylvia held it delicately, twirling it in her wrist as she admired the blade. She was enjoying it.

  “I have another one like it,” Anders showed it to her.

  “Another one? I want this one,” Sylvia quickly stepped closer to him. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Looks like Sylvia found her toys. Now it’s your turn, Riven. I still don’t understand why you need a second sword, and a weaker one at that, not just compared to yours, but to what we have?”

  “That’s my business. If you want everything to go smoothly, find me a blade to my liking.”

  “Unless I take you across to the carpenter. He might be able to make what you’re looking for.”

  Sylvia laughed but stopped when she saw Riven was serious. He was always serious.

  “That one.” Riven pointed at the thin brown belt Anders wore. From it protruded a sword with a small hilt and a long, narrow blade.

  “This?” Garvin laughed, went over to the blacksmith, grabbed the thin sword by the hilt, and pulled it from the belt. “This is for children, Riven. I don’t even know why our blacksmith has it.”

  “That’s exactly what I need.” Riven pulled it from Garvin’s hands, carefully inspected the blade, and looked up at Anders. “Do you have children, boy?”

  “Two. Two boys. I made this for the older one.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to make him a new one.”

  “But sir, the letter is engraved.”

  “And? What’s his name?”

  “Inn.”

  “Tell Inn that his sword is going to greater deeds. If I return alive, I’ll deliver it to him myself.”

  “But sir…”

  “Quiet, Anders.” Garvin stepped between them and gently pushed the blacksmith back. “Riven, if you’re satisfied, let’s get out of here before anyone sees me with you. And you,” Garvin looked back at Anders, “forget I was here. Forget about the two of them.”

  Anders nodded twice and caught the silver coin Garvin tossed to him in mid-air.

  ***

  The white horse followed the worn path leading out of the kingdom at a slow pace. Riven held the reins, gently guiding the animal and cursing softly when he needed to adjust its speed. Sylvia was lying in the hay they had spread in the back of the cart, staring up at the sky. Clouds blocked the sun, and a light mist of rain dripped down. Sylvia laughed every time a drop hit her light blue eyes, rubbing them like a child with her pale hands. The two small blades she had taken from the blacksmith Anders were snugly strapped to her thighs. Sylvia loved pulling one of them out and gently running her fingers along the edge.

  The rain grew heavier, and the sky flashed several times. Lightning struck in the distance. Sylvia fastened a large piece of cloth to one side of the cart, stretched it to the other, and then ducked under it. The rain pattered on the cloth above. She closed her eyes and thought of her mother. She missed her. Her father, not so much.

  The cart rattled over a few stones beneath it, then continued smoothly.

  Riven wasn’t afraid of rain or lightning. When thunder clapped or lightning flashed and the horses jumped, he would place his hands on their rumps and speak to them softly. It truly calmed them.

  Sylvia lay under the cloth in the cart, listening to the drops falling above and trickling down the sides, imagining the morning in Moonstone.

  She was on the veranda of the large house where Lord Kravets once lived. She looked out at the sea, and the gentle breeze licked her forehead and cheeks. Then Riven appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Several children ran past them.

  Then she saw her sister.