Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (101 page)

After shaking the idea
from his mind, he wandered in the room crowded with men and women in the hopes of finding the man he so rightfully called his king.

“Do you see him?” Odin asked, biting his lower lip as what felt like another bout o
f anxiety began.

“The king?” one of the guards asked, waiting for a nod before he continued. “Not yet, sir. We
’re looking for him.”

“Hurry, if you can.”

“Are you nervous?”

“No.”

Yes.

He bit his lip a second time.

In one pass of breath, he thought he would crack the skin and mark him as the ball of nerves he was.

S
canning the crowd for both his king and any relief from the growing crowd, Odin’s eyes fell to what appeared to be a table of refreshments and took his first step forward, into the room that could very well swallow him whole.

Behind him, the guards followed, hands
slack at their sides but eyes ever alert.

When he reached the table and found himself in the company of not one, but nearly twelve men, Odin pardoned himself beside a man with snow-white hair and a frost of beard before pouring him a glass of the fruit punch.

“You’re armed,” the older man said, surveying Odin’s body so intently that Odin found himself a bit nervous. “Who might you be, sir?”

“Odin Karussa, sir.”

“Karussa, Karussa… that name sounds familiar.”

“He
’s my champion,” a familiar voice said.

Odin sighed as Ournul
’s hands fell upon his shoulders.

“You gentlemen may leave if you like,” the king said, turning his eyes to the guards standing no more than a few feet away. “Thank you for escorting my champion form Ornalia.”

“Ornalia?” Odin frowned.

“The name of the
village beyond the walls.”

Ah,
he thought.

A bit embarrassed at his
ignorance regarding current affairs, he adjusted his position beneath his king’s towering height and sipped the juice, grimacing as what felt like the slight tang of alcohol rolled down his throat.

“I
’ve heard many things about you, young sir,” the frost-bearded man said, reaching forward to shake Odin’s free hand.

“
Good, I would hope.”

“Your king speaks highly of you.”

So you didn’t tell them I was gone.

At least he wouldn
’t have to worry about falling into an uneven situation.

“Odin,” Ournul said, “I
’d like you to meet Sir Kerin, the lord of Deeana.”

“Hello sir,” Odin said. “It
’s an honor to meet you.”

“Sir Kerin and his daughter have only recently arrived, have you not?”

“Just this afternoon,” Lord Kerin said. “Have you happened to see my daughter, my lord?”

“Your daughter is quite the social butterfly,” Ournul smiled. “Perhaps you
’ll send her in Odin’s direction next time you catch eye of her.”

“Oh, most definitely so.” Kerin narrowed his eyes on Odin as he lifted his drink. “So, young man… see anyone you like around here?”

“Pardon?” Odin frowned.

“You
’ll have to excuse my champion,” Ournul said, once more pressing his hands upon Odin’s shoulders and tightening his grip around them. “He hasn’t had much time to… well, let’s say
court
a woman of his own.”

“That
’s not surprising, considering all the work you’ve done. By the Gods—leading the arrest of the monks, freeing the boys from Ohmalyon
and
participating in the war. I’m surprised you’ve the energy to attend a royal gathering like this.”

Does he know?
Odin thought, scrutinizing the man’s face for any discrepancies.

It would seem, based on Lord Kerin
’s reactions, that he knew nothing of his near-year-long escape from beyond the Three Kingdoms, let alone his escapades across the Whooping Hills and into the Abroen Forest. That alone was enough to secure his notions that most, if not everyone, knew nothing of his disappearance, save his king, his friends and the few guards who’d been in attendance during the meeting. With that in mind, he lifted his glass and took a mighty drink, nodding to the lord before him as the juice burned down his throat.

They spent the next great while discussing the work Odin had done for the kingdom since his instatement into the royal family—mainly of arresting the Tentalin Monks
, as well as his escapades in the war and the reclamation of Dwaydor. Ournul himself stood idly by and listened, occasionally sipping his drink and offering slight commentary, and even managed to bolster Odin’s confidence by saying that his stubborn champion had refused to stand by his side while his friends went off to fight in the war.

“It
’s not something I would be necessarily proud of,” Kerin said, “but I can tell that you have a heart of gold, boy, just like our king here does.”

“Odin
’s lost a lot in the years he’s been enlisted in my service,” Ournul said, clapping Odin’s back. “He lost people in the war.”

“I
’m sorry to hear that, son. My condolences.”

“I appreciate it,” Odin replied, once more taking a sip of his drink.

Already feeling the effects of the alcohol taking hold, he decided to relinquish his hold on the mug brimming with spiked juice and set it on the table—where, unattended, it would sit and no longer bear any consequence upon his person. He briefly considered taking from the platter one of the sandwich squares, but he was soon distracted by a figure approaching behind Kerin with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Father,” the young woman said.

“Onlee!” Kerin cried, thrusting a hand around the young woman’s shoulders and drawing her into his side. “Have you said hello to our king yet?”

“Hello sir,” O
nlee said, bowing her head, then turning her eyes up to look directly at Odin.

She
’s beautiful,
he thought, almost unable to take his eyes off her face and the dark curls that ran alongside her head.
She’s… everything anyone could ever want.

Whether it was the effects of the alcohol taking him he did not know, but as his eyes began to run the length of her face and, eventually, down to the swell of her breasts, he felt within him a great longing he had
never before experienced for a woman, sober or not. Her eyes, chocolate-brown, seemed to pierce his soul, tangle his heart and freeze his emotions, while her low cheekbones captured her face in a sort of light he was not used to seeing in most women. Framed by her hair, captured by her bone structure, the entirety of her appearance—from her petite nose, to her thin lips and, ultimately, her well-defined jawline—seemed crafted only to attract his attention.

When the young noblewoman offered a smile Odin couldn
’t help but return, he reached out to take his still-half-full glass once more and downed the last bit of alcohol within it.

“O
nlee,” Lord Kerin said, “this is Odin Karussa, the king’s champion.”

“It
’s an honor to meet you,” Oleen replied, extending her hand for Odin to both grace and kiss. “It’s been ages since we’ve last seen a champion, not since lord Isnot.”

“Your father?” Odin asked, waiting for Ournul
’s nod before he returned his attention to Oleen—where, once more, his eyes took range of her body. “Sir… why didn’t your father’s  champion stay behind to serve you?”

“Because Daelman was killed while in service to the kingdom,” the king sighed, reaching up to finger the bridge of his nose. “I hate to be rude, but let
’s not talk about this right now. This is a time for celebration. There’s no need to dampen our spirits.”

“Of course not,” Odin replied.

“We should leave the two of you be,” Lord Kerin said, stepping away from his daughter’s side and approaching Ournul with a few short steps. “Your king and I have matters to discuss, young man.”

“But sir—“

“Don’t worry about me, Odin. I have more than enough eyes to keep watch over me.” Ournul offered a slight wink before he turned and disappeared into the crowd with Lord Kerin.

O
nlee, who appeared nothing more than bored, crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the table, balancing the weight of her body on the balls of her heels and staring vacantly into the crowd.

In watching her actions—in everything from the way she moved, breathed, blinked and, ultimately, pursed her lips—Odin found a thrill of unease stir within hi
m.

So,
he thought, smiling, licking his lips while examining the young woman.
This is what Ournul wanted me to do.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, Odin stepped forward offered her a slight nod of approval. “Ma
’am,” he said.

“Don
’t call me that,” Onlee replied. “It makes me sound old.”

“What would you like to be called then?”

“My name. Onlee.”

“O
nlee,” Odin said, the word a rough drawl in lieu of the amount of alcohol he had consumed. “My apologies. I can tell you’re not having the best time here.”

“Are you?” the young woman asked.

The smile Odin offered made her raise one eyebrow. “Of course,” he said. “I mean, I’m supposed to have a good time. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because events like these are more boring than watching men farm in the fields all day,” she shrugged. “I can
’t help but hate these sort of things. I always feel so… small, insignificant, like I’m not needed at all. It’s my father who’s the important one here. I’m just his daughter, after all.”

“To tell you the truth, I feel like I
’m playing a much smaller part than I really am.”

“A smaller part? Are you kidding?” O
nlee laughed. “You’re the king’s champion. You’re practically the second most royal person here.”

“I wouldn
’t say that.”

“Whatever. Hey… question.”

“Hmm?”

“Is there any way you can get me out o
f here?”

“Sorry?”

Oleen grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, curling her fingers into it to the point where Odin thought she would tear the sleeves off. “Come on,” she said, attempting to tug him toward the door. “Let’s walk the grounds, hide in the kitchens—
anything
to get the hell out of here.”

“I
’m not sure your father would—“

“My father doesn
’t care if you take me away from here. Besides—he’d probably prefer it.”

“But the king—“

“As he said, there’s more than enough eyes to watch out for him.”

Well then,
Odin thought as he reached up to free the young woman’s hand from his sleeve.
If that’s what you want, I’m more than willing to oblige.

Truth be told, he would rather be doing other things than standing in a room ac
ting like some diplomat.

After checking to make sure that no one was watching, Odin took her hand, then began to lead her into the hall.

“I can
’t believe how beautiful it is,” Oleen said, casting her eyes along the walls and the torches that lined them, reflecting orange light and shadows off the opposite side of the corridor. “It’s like… I’ve never been here before.”

“You
’ve attended these sort of gatherings before?” Odin asked, scanning her figure from behind as she stepped in front of him.

“Some, yes, but not all.”

“I see.”

“Let me ask you a question,” Oleen said, turning. Odin stopped in place as the young woman ground to a halt and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “How long have you been the king
’s champion?”

“Let
’s see,” Odin said, desperate to keep his eyes on her face and not on any other part of her body. “Not... even a year now, I don’t believe.”

“Really?” the young woman asked. “That
’s rather hard to believe, if I do say so myself.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem much better versed than the last champion.”

“Who was?”

“You’ve forgotten already?” she laughed. “Daeldan.”

“Oh.” Odin frowned, biting his lower lip. “Sorry. I
’m drunk.”

“I
’ve noticed.”

“What
’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on,” Oleen said, stepping forward and reaching up to press a hand against his chest. “Your eyes have been on me all night. It
’s not like I’ve noticed.”

“So you have,” he chuckled.

“Why don’t we… go back to my father’s room?” she said, fingering the top button on Odin’s shirt, then snapping it free of its clasp. “It’ll only be the two of us there.”