They'd awakened early to have a large breakfast in the inn dining room. Fresh tea, pastries, and porridge awaited, and Aros and the others had their fill. Neither were ready to leave the comfort of their beds, but the smell of sausages pulled them from under the blankets.
The courtyard right outside of the palace was packed the next day.
Dressed in his new finery, Aros waited at the base of the steps that led into the palace. It was time to request an audience with the king. His brothers and Eostre stood at his side, as did dozens of sweaty visitors who all wanted the chance to see the king.
Eostre was truly a vision that beautiful morning. She'd taken the time to comb her hair and braid her bangs across to her ear. Dressed in the blue dress she'd bought, she could easily have passed for a true lady of noble birth.
He still wondered what secrets she knew, and intended to ask her about them once they were alone again. Despite the offer to sleep in the same bed as her, he’d decided to take a blanket and sleep on the floor in between beds.
As they waited, the sky brightened and the clouds rolled across at a leisurely pace that reminded Aros of the foam being swept down the river as he fished in the early morning back home in Berufell.
They weren't the only ones hoping to speak to the king. Several foreign dignitaries and travelers stood at their side while they waited for the doors to be opened and allowed entrance into the palace.
"It's getting bloody hot out here," Magnus said, tugging at the collar of his red-leather jerkin.
"Shouldn't be long now," Aros said, and he was right. The doors were opened and a palace attendant stepped forward, dressed in a long, white cloak with golden trim, and a golden cap. He carried a large book and quill.
The others began filing in and he took their names down and where they were from. When it was Aros' turn, the man paused, searching his face as he stated his name.
"Aros of Berufell, son of Reidar the Wise.”
He swallowed and nodded, face gone ashen.
"Of course," he said. "The king has been expecting your arrival."
Stunned, Aros exchanged a surprised look with his brothers.
"Come," he said. "This way."
Anxiety tightened Aros' abdomen as he followed the attendant. How did the king know he was coming?
Eris and Enit hadn't steered him wrong so far. Amalia was where she was meant to be, and that was because he'd followed their guidance. He just hoped that his journey would take him back to her.
He breathed in, determined to keep faith in the gods. Inside the palace, they were taken down a corridor where paintings of former kings and queens lined the paneled walls. Everyone else who had waited to enter were taken on a tour of the public areas of the palace.
Aros and the others were led directly to the throne room.
There stood Rollo, the Fenrir King, in his human form. He was a large man, of nearly forty, with long, dark hair, and green eyes that peered down at Aros as if he could see straight through him to his soul.
There was magic in the Fenrir king’s veins, and Aros had grown used to the feel of it in the air when Amalia was around. The king wore a heavy cloak over his fine, embroidered tunic, red sash, and leather pants tucked into tall, leather boots the shined.
“Aros, son of Reidar the Wise,” King Rollo said, standing from his throne of dark stone and jewels. “Einar told me you’d be coming.”
A cold chill raced up Aros’ body and landed in his throat.
No.
It was then that they were seized by the guards, and dragged away from the throne room—it was then that Aros realized that King Rollo would not be an ally.
For, he served their enemy.
The vengeful god, Einar.