Free RuneWarriors by James Jennewein Page A

smile.” And then the sound of music filled the air. Musicians—three pipers, two lyre strummers, and a drummer—had arrived and begun to play. Stirred by the music, one by one everyone began to join in a chain dance.
    â€œAh, music,” said Thidrek, and he turned expectantly to Astrid. But Jarl was already on his feet and saying, “Honor me, dear lady?”
    She hesitated, not wanting to breach princely protocol. But Thidrek, ever the gentleman, nodded his approval, knowing that the winner of the games always had first pick of the ladies.
    She rose, bowing once to the prince, and went off to join Jarl at the end of the chain of dancers.
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    Dane fumed. Stuck at the far end of the table, twenty seats away, he could barely eat, having to watch both Thidrek and Jarl seated beside his girl! They looked too cozy up there, the three of them smiling and chatting away like the best of mates. It sickened him to see it, and the longer the night went on, the worse he felt. And then seeing Astrid get up to dance next to Jarl—well, that just tore it. Taking a flagon of mead, Dane stood to walk out, but caught a reproachful look from his father at the far end of the table. Obediently, he first went to Prince Thidrek and, with all the decorum he could muster, bowed in courtly fashion and bade his lord good night.
    â€œTurning in early, I take it?” asked Voldar.
    Dane gave a sullen nod.
    â€œWell, good job in the games, son.”
    Dane produced a shrug and a half smile, turned, and walked off.
    â€œGood lad,” said Thidrek to Voldar.
    â€œYes, my lord. Still too young to show proper respect to his elders, I fear.”
    Thidrek waved it off. “Shows spirit. Guts. He’s his ownman.” Then he added, “Could be worse. You could have him for a son.” Thidrek nodded toward Drott the Dim, who at that very moment was crawling across the ground with a leg of roast lamb clenched in his jaws, grunting and growling like a deranged dog at no one in particular, looking every bit the village idiot.
    â€œYes,” Voldar agreed. “Much worse.”
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    Out on the dance floor, Astrid wasn’t giving Jarl an inch. She hadn’t wanted to dally with him at all, having agreed only so as to avoid dancing next to Thidrek. She felt uncomfortable under the prince’s penetrating gaze. Yes, he was handsome; yes, he was charming; and, yes, he had a certain rakish appeal. But her intuition told her that his intentions were anything but honorable. Flush with the exaggerated emotions often found in girls her age, she felt a sudden hand on her shoulder. A chill shot through her when she heard Thidrek’s voice, all velvet. “I believe it’s my turn,” he oozed.
    Jarl bowed and went away wordlessly. Steeling herself, Astrid turned to Thidrek, put her hand in his, and allowed him to join in the dance next to her.
    As she nervously made small talk, Thidrek’s gaze never wavered. He kept his eyes fastened only on her. As she danced beside him, she felt the cold hard cut of his leather coat against her side, his steady gaze drilling into hers. The image of a scaly reptile suddenly leaped to mind. A snake, perhaps. Or one of those green four-legged crawly thingswith the long tail her father had brought back from one of his long sea voyages to the south. What was it called? A lizard? Yes, that was it! Thidrek reminded her of a lizard. A sly creature with cold, rough skin and eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. The words of her father came back to her now as she recalled what he’d often said while gazing at the prince’s distant castle: “There is nothing colder than the heart of a tyrant.”
    Absorbed in this reverie, she was surprised to find Thidrek moving closer, pulling her into the shadows and putting his mouth on hers, or trying to, at least. Astrid stepped away before he could successfully complete his maneuver, careful to keep the smile on