Page 18 of Chosen
Chapter Twelve
Sig
I sat in the windowsill of the council room watching the grounds below. Darkness had settled over the Bay, and no one had seen my bride, or my Aunt Gisla for that matter. I’d last noticed them both together and had no doubt Gisla was responsible for Truth’s defiance. Her wedding dress had been delivered hours ago, according to the servants.
“I specifically told her we would be wed at dusk,” I grumbled.
My father grunted in that way that meant everything and nothing. He was standing before the hearth, all but mesmerized by the flames.
“Are you listening to me or scrying your future over there, old man?” I shot in frustration.
He laughed and looked toward me.
“Are you that moved by her?” he taunted.
“I will have her tonight,” I vowed.
His deep, rumbled laughter irked me. I started from the room, and he grabbed my arm.
“She is probably on the boat with Gisla or out doing woman things. Come, we will search.” Father finally straightened up and got serious.
We collected our horses and headed from the grounds. I kept nudging my horse to speed up, but father seemed to be in no rush.
“You’re going to break your neck before you find her.” He grinned, while keeping his horse at a slow, steady trot. I ground my teeth and prayed for patience.
Despite his shit-talking, he was soon racing me through the square. We bounded down the streets until they turned to sand. A few of the men were lingering on the beach with local women.
“Hail.” Father raised his hand.
“Sven!” they cheerfully called.
Someone passed him a jug of liquor and father heartily sipped before stating his business, “We seek my sister Gisla and Siggy’s intended, Truth.”
“Her name is Renata,” I corrected him.
I don’t know why but hearing her called Truth just grated my nerves. I didn’t want her to have anything of my father’s or my uncle’s, even something so little as a name. She was mine.
“They’ve not been down here,” the man closest to him assured us. “I don’t know much about any Renata, but I’d know the shieldmaiden Gisla anywhere.”
Father looked like he might linger, but I couldn’t. My heart was pounding. What if something had happened to them? I whipped my horse around and started back toward town. I searched every road and alley. I stopped people at random to ask after them. It was all to no avail. Every hour that passed had me more rabid. I stopped in front of the inn and slid off my horse. I couldn’t fathom Gisla staying in an inn, but perhaps Truth had decided to hide from me.
“Don’t be silly,” my father called, his horse’s hooves clicked and clacked over the cobblestone until he slid off the beast. He tied his horse off next to mine and jerked his thumb toward the tavern.
“You’d be better off searching there than a damn inn.” Father chuckled.
He marched toward the tavern with me scrambling after him. The place was dark and dingy, but the musicians were lively. The first thing my eyes settled on was a tall whore in the back. She was slender and beautiful. Her arms were in the air, and she was twirling around. Her hips kept time with the music, and she laughed joyously with the person at the table beside her. From table to table she went, provoking the men and flirting. The person at the far table tilted a bottle and drank from it like they didn’t need to draw breath again. I squinted and gasped.
“Gisla,” I spat.
My aunt jerked her head away from the bottle, her attention instantly slipping from the dancer to me. Father and I gravitated toward her. She burst out laughing and I was pretty sure if it weren’t for the table she’d have been on the floor.
As we drew closer, I noticed the raven hair of the dancer and her green eyes landed on me. The spinning stopped abruptly, and she clung to the side of the table like she was dizzy.
“Truth,” Father greeted.
He had an antagonistic smile on his features. He was clearly amused. I, on the other hand, was not. I grabbed Truth by her long, willowy arm and drug her through the tavern. She was laughing and hugging on me.
“Dance with my Siggy,” she purred against my ear.