Page 159 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“You speak for the king?” I pushed back.

“I speak for the future.”

“That may be, but my concerns don’t extend a century from now. So I’ll ask again: do you speak for your king?”

“No, ma’am,” he said with that hint of southern flare.

“Then don’t disrespect me by acting as if you do.”

“No disrespect intended, just Freya,” he said playfully, reaching toward me—then stopping when Carr damn near came out of his armor. Steel whispered from a sheath behind me. I didn’t have to turn to picture the delightfully menacing tableau.

Good guard dog.

Atreus lifted an open palm in surrender, his gaze drifting slowly back to mine, intent softening the edges of it. Ladies and gentlemen, straight ahead: a ladies’ man in his natural habitat.

Carrson actually growled when Atreus twirled one of my bangs around his finger before tucking it behind my ear.

Easy, Cujo.

“Get your hands off my queen before I remove them for you.”

“Carrson, did you or did you not serve the last monarch in these halls?” Atreus asked, utterly unbothered, his eyes still glittering on mine. Carr said nothing aloud—though his mind supplied plenty of colorful commentary—so Atreus stepped closer. My throat tightened when he pried one hand from where I’d locked my arms across my chest and pressed his lips to my knuckles. Straightening, he said, “It takes an incredible soul not only to duel a reigning monarch and survive, but to inspire loyalty worth bleeding for. I watched that son of a bitch grow up beneath Reagan Stuart’s wing. For him to bend a knee?”

Fucker might be a brownnoser, but at least he’s accurate, Carr begrudgingly mumbled mind-to-mind.

His smirk broke into a full grin. “To say I’m intrigued by the fearsome creature who inspired that is an understatement.”

“So why the theatrics of the proposal?”

“Have you seen yourself? The butcher queen, putting gluttons in their place and feeding the poor? My father took one look and wanted to add you to his collection,” he scoffed. “What ruler wouldn’t want the promise of your strength in their bloodline?”

Carrson snarled again. My eyes widened at Atreus’ candor.

“Personally, I’m more interested in whether you and I can raise a little hell together. I’ve got no interest in serving as my father’s prized stallion.”

“A stud for hire.”

“Precisely.”

“And yet you entertain his proposal?”

“In name only.”

“Tell me more about that.”

Please tell me you’re not considering this, Carr snarled in my mind.

Shut up or say something useful.

I think you meant to say that last bit out loud. You can’t be serious, Freya.

“This alliance buoys us as much as it does you.”

At least he’s forthright. Aloud, I said, “Expand. And if you compare me to a breeding mare, I’m letting Carrson throw you into the swamp.”

“My pleasure,” Carr muttered.

Atreus snorted, genuine humor brightening those green eyes. “We don’t stand a chance alone. Isolation invites weakness. For once, our solitude in those mountains is a vulnerability instead of a strength.”