Sera
The hallway was warmer than I expected. The stone walls seemed to breathe heat, a low radiation that took the edge off the draft. It was a good thing, considering the dress Fenris had forced on me barely covered the essentials.
Mina walked beside me, her boots clicking rhythmically on the floor. Every few steps, she’d reach over and dust a nonexistent speck from my shoulder or tug at the hem of the silk. She seemed obsessed with how I looked. Back in the room, when I’d finally pulled the dress on, her eyes had nearly popped out of her head.
She’d circled me like a shark, checking every angle. "Look at that asss," she’d said, grinning with a blunt, dirty sort of amusement that felt more like a construction worker than a handmaid.
I’d shifted, tugging the charcoal shawl tighter around my chest. Mina was strange. Her English was too clean, too precise. The warriors and even Fenris had that thick northern burr in their voices, but Mina spoke like she’d spent her life in a city or a southern court. She wasn't from here. I was sure of it.
She’d done my hair in a simple, loose style and applied just enough makeup to make me look alive. But even with the shawl, I felt exposed.
As we got closer to the Great Hall, the noise grew. A low, rolling thunder of voices and the clatter of iron on wood. I hated it. Back in Valdris, I was the daughter who skipped the banquets. I hated the way the noblemen looked at me, calculating my worth like a piece of real estate. I hated the weight of a hundred eyes.
Now, I was walking into a room full of strangers while wearing a dress that would let my nipples show if the wind blew the wrong way.
I thought of Lyra. My sister would have loved this. She would be sashaying down this hall, tossing her hair and winking at the warriors just to watch them trip over their own feet. She’d be planning which one to take to bed before the first course was served.
I hoped she was okay. I hoped my father had released Nadia and her family. He’d gotten his alliance. He’d gotten me out of his hair. There was no reason to keep them in a cell anymore.
We reached the entrance to the Great Hall.
The room was massive, dominated by several long tables. At the very end, on a raised platform, was the high table. Fenris was already there. He was sitting in a chair that looked like it had been carved out of a single, giant oak. He looked casual. One arm was propped on the table, the other hand digging into a bowl. He was tossing something—nuts or berries—into his mouth with a rhythmic flick of his wrist.
The moment I stepped into the room, the chatter died. It didn't fade; it stopped, like someone had cut a throat.
Fenris looked up.
His eyes locked onto mine, and the air left my lungs. Even with the shawl, I felt completely naked. It was like his gaze had a physical weight, peeling back the silk and the wool until there was nothing left but skin and bone. For a split second, his expression shifted—a flash of something dark and hungry—but then it was gone, replaced by that same icy, unreadable stare.
I froze. I couldn't move my feet.



VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris)