My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 94

Sera

I looked at the heavy white silk in her hands. I remembered the heavy blue dress Kane made me wear in Blackwater. The tight corset that bruised my ribs. The heavy skirts that made it impossible to run. Kane dressed me like a display piece. He dressed me like a trophy he won, wrapping me in layers to hide me away.

I looked at Irina's horrified, judgmental face.

I laughed. It echoed loudly in the Great Hall.

"Class?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I took a slow step toward her. "Civility? You want to stand in this room and lecture me about looking like a whore, Mother?"

Irina froze. The blood drained completely from her face. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I saw the moment she remembered the guest room. Torin thrusting into her from behind while her skirt was shoved up over her ass.

She quickly lowered the white dress, clutching it to her chest like a shield.

"I didn't think so," I said, dropping my voice so it carried a lethal edge.

I turned away from her and looked at Torin. The Valdris Lord was watching the exchange with deep confusion, completely unaware of why the Queen had suddenly backed down.

"Take the white dress back to Valdris," I told Torin. I pointed to the chests of gold and the cages of thin animals. "Take the wine. Take the birds. We don't want them."

Torin’s eyes widened in genuine shock. "Princess, you cannot reject the King's dowry. It is a massive insult to the crown. The gold alone—"

"I don't care," I cut him off. I didn't yell. I spoke with absolute, crushing authority. "This pack hunts its own meat. We forge our own steel. Tell my father that Ironmaw does not need his scraps, and I am not a southern inconvenience he needs to compensate people for."

I looked over at Bram, who was standing by the far wall wearing Kael's face.

It was replaced by absolute, blinding pride. He looked at me like I was the most terrifying, beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I will wear this," I said to the old weaver.

Fenris stepped forward. He didn't care about the Valdris lord sputtering in the background. He didn't care about the Queen shaking in anger. He stopped right in front of me, his massive presence shielding me from the rest of the room.

He reached out and ran his thick, rough knuckles over the incredibly soft dark fabric resting against my collarbone. His hand brushed against my bare skin.

"Four days," Fenris rumbled, his voice dropping into a dark, possessive whisper meant only for me. "I am going to tear that fucking dress off you."

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