12
Lars
As the commander marched the woman away, Ivar turned to me, frustration written on his face. “Why did you mention the moonstone?”
I shrugged in the face of his anger. “I wanted to save her.” In truth, I did not know why I spoke. “She will be presented to the king.”
“She will survive,” I retorted. Ivar cursed, but I didn’t back down. For some reason, I wanted the woman to remain close, and safe.
“He may take her to wed,” Ivar reminded me, and then I realized my mistake. Desire curled in my breast, next to pain. I wanted this woman near, bathing me in her scent. I did not want her given to the king.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” I said.
“Nor I. My mother told me of a woman meant to be my mate.”
“Your mother?” I raised a brow. Ivar’s mother had died at birth.
“In a drea
