“But this is not war,” he said slowly. Lifting one of the jewelled braids from her shoulder, he played with it as he studied her. “This is not war, for I had reconciled myself to him. I had plighted faith with Edmund Ethelredsson and vowed to avenge his death like a brother.”
Her white forehead drew itself into a puzzled frown. “But you were not so foolish as to swear it on the holy ring were you?” When he did not answer, she raised her shoulders lightly. “What should I know about such matters? Have you not told me, many times and oft, that it behooves a woman to shun meddling with great affairs?”
He gave a short laugh, “And when were you ever before content to follow that advice?” Letting the braid slip from his fingers, he stood looking her up and down, his lips curling with scorn. “Yet this was not needful to show me that the elves felt they had done their full day’s work when they had made you a body,” he said. And whether he did not see her bridling displeasure, or whether he saw and no longer cared to appease it, the result was the same.
Randalin spoke abruptly to her companion. “Dearwyn, I can tell you something. Elfgiva will never get the queenship over England.”
“What moves you to say that?” the little English girl asked her, startled.
But Randalin’s attention had gone back to the King, who had turned where the son of Lodbrok waited regarding him over sternly-folded arms.
“Brother,” he was saying gravely, “your opinion is powerful with me, so I will openly tell you that you are wrong in your belief. I was satisfied with the crown of an under-king, satisfied to pass the time as I had been doing. Never have I so much as hinted to yonder peace-nithing a word of harm against Edmund Ironside.”
From Thorkel the Tall came one of his rare laughs,—a sound like the grating of a rusty hinge,—and Rothgar unfolded his arms to fling them out in angry rejection.
“This is useful to learn!” he sneered. “Do you think I could not guess that you had no need to put your desire into words after you had shown Edric by your actions that your mind and his are one, after you had admitted by your bond with him that you hold the same curious belief about honor?”
This time it was Randalin who clutched the English girl. “Oh!” she gasped.