Sven

Mamma's news puts a damper on our party; it isn't long before everyone makes their excuses and heads to their own bedrooms. Romelle hasn't said a word since Mamma told us her so-called family knew where she was, and I can't take it any longer. "Elske, talk to me," I ask, drawing her to sit on my-our—bed. "Let me know vhat you are tinking, let me help you, please?"

She looks up at me through her lashes, so sad and forlorn that I immediately pull her onto my lap, holding her tight. "What did I do to make Avok and Father hate me so? Am I wrong to want to make my own choices?"

"You know I do not tink so, elske." I pull back to look at her. "I tink . . . I tink your vater und broder do not see you for de vonderful voman you are; dey see only a piece of property to bargain vit und sell to de highest bidder."

She shudders a bit, and buries her face in my shirt. "Sven. . .do you love me? You're not just helping me because you feel sorry for me, or because you might get something out of it?"

I shouldn't, but I can't help but laugh as I lie back on the bed with her. "Elske, I did not and vould not risk my career out of feeling sorry for anyvon. If dat vere all dis vere, I vould haf left you vit Onkel Michael for him to sort out. Romelle. . . kjaereste . . .I know this has all been very sudden. But please belief dat I love you. I vould not haf put dat ring on your finger if I did not." It both breaks my heart and infuriates me that she thinks so little of herself.

Delicate arms wrap around me, holding on tight as they can. "I . . . I haven't had someone tell me they love me since my mother died," Romelle says softly. "Not even my little brother. I forgot how good it feels. Promise me you won't change your mind?"

"Never." I lean down and kiss her, doing my best to put all my love and desire for her into it. "I'm yours to my last breat, elske. And pray that you vill be mine."

"Yours forever," she whispers, and I startle as a small pair of hands find their way under my uniform tunic. "It's our wedding night, Mr. Holgersson . . . make love to me?"

"I vould like noting better," I manage to answer, helping her remove the tunic before reaching around to unbutton her dress. "Let's get a bit more comfortable, ja?" She blushes and won't look at me as I ease the bodice off her shoulders, kissing the skin I bare as I go. "Elske, look at me," I gently tip her chin up, fighting not to get lost in those blue eyes. "No shame between us, ja? You are a beautiful voman, I love you and you set me on fire every time I look at you. Min gud, how I want you. Be proud of that. Please?"

I can feel the heat of her blush through my t-shirt. "I . . . I will try, Sven. I promise. Just give me time." She smiles uncertainly. "I—I'm not used to thinking of myself that way. And no one's EVER looked at me the way you do."

"Vell, dat is a shame . . . und I am honored to be de first." I shift us on the bed, laying her on her back and stretching out beside her. "So beautiful," I whisper to her, then lean over to capture her lips. She responds hesitantly at first, still so innocent it's maddening, then wraps her arms around me and pulls me closer.

"I love you, Sven," she whispers, nuzzling into my neck. "No matter what, I'll always love you."

I don't have the words to answer her; but then . . . some things are said best without words. And I intend to spend the rest of the night talking to her without words.

Romelle

Waking up next to Sven may be my new favorite—or second favorite—thing in life. I feel so safe, wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat quiet and strong against my cheek. Nobody's protected me like this since . . . since my mother died.

Surprisingly, he's still asleep, and I raise up on an elbow to take him in. He's not overly muscular, but his strength is clear in the lean lines of his body. A strong jaw, dusted now with the beginnings of whiskers that tickle and scratch my fingers. A tattoo over his heart of a strange hammer-like device, with writing in a language I do not know.

"Dat tickles, you know," he murmurs sleepily, and I jump out of my skin, managing not to squeak in surprise. He laughs, rolling on his side to look at me, blue eyes dancing with amusement. "God morgen, elskede."

"I-I thought you were asleep!" I finally manage to sputter, blushing furiously. "Why didn't you say something?"

He leans forward and kisses me. "Because you looked so very cute, so seriously looking me over. I voke up vhen you first moved, elske; I sleep very lightly."

Before I can say anything, someone pounds on the bedroom door. "Hey, lovebirds, rise and shine!" comes Lance's voice. "Keith and I want to go to breakfast at Tante Olga's!"

Sven groans and raises his voice. "Von day, Lance McClain, I vill forget vhy I put up vit you. Go on ahead, ve vill catch up to you." Lance's mocking laughter fades as another voice, presumably Keith's, joins him walking away.

"Tante Olga's?" I ask as Sven gets up and heads for the bathroom. Thankfully he closes the door; I'm not ready to know him THAT well!

"Ja, it's a café close by," he calls over the sound of water and splashing. "Keit und Lance love de pastries dere; ve haf to go at least vonce every time ve're here."

It sounds heavenly, but. . . "Sven, is it safe to go out? I mean, if Father and Avok find us. . ." I can't finish the sentence.

He comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and sits beside me, holding me close. "Oslo is a very big city, elske. I vould be very surprised if dey could find us. Und even if dey do. . ." he pulls back to look at me. "Romelle, trust dat I vill protect you. Vit my life, if necessary. So vill Keit und Lance. You're safe now."

I'm still uncertain, but he looks so sure, so determined, all I can do is nod before darting to the bathroom. As I close the door, I see Sven beginning to get dressed. . . and laying a blaster on the bed beside his shirt.

Sven

For a girl, Romelle gets ready quickly; we're leaving the house maybe fifteen minutes after Lance's knock. She holds my hand as we walk, chattering and looking around wide-eyed at the ancient buildings around her. I'm looking around too; not at the buildings I've seen a thousand times, but looking for the trouble I'm dreading, despite my confident words to Romelle. The streets are deserted, however, and as we approach Tante Olga's, I start to relax my guard.

Big mistake. Two men step out of an alley in front of us; King Cova and Avok. Before I can reach for my blaster or com, I feel two more men step behind us.

Cova folds his arms, scowling at Romelle. I can feel her shaking though she's dropped my hand. "Daughter. Much do you have to answer for, have you any idea the trouble you've caused?"

I step forward, doing my best to shield Romelle from their scrutiny, and take a deep breath, concentrating on my words so they aren't muddled by my accent. "She has nothing to answer for to you. You are not welcome here."

"This does not concern you, boy," Avok snarls. "Step away from Princess Romelle; she belongs with us, and I will gladly kill you to get to her."

I don't budge, and let a chill come into my voice. "It became my concern when the Princess sought asylum with the Alliance. I am a Garrison soldier, charged with her protection. SHE STAYS."

Cova hesitates when I identify myself, but Avok draws his sword, as do the guards behind us. "Last chance, offworlder. STAND ASIDE!"

I fold my arms, right hand slipping in my jacket to grip my blaster. "No."

Before anyone can do more than brace to fight, Romelle steps around me, face white as she faces her father. "If I return to Pollux with you. . .do you promise not to hurt him?" She gestures to me, and my jaw drops.

Cova gives her an oily smile. "You have my word as Overlord of Pollux and Guardian of the Sacred Way, daughter. I will not harm him, nor will my guards."

Romelle turns to look at me, tears in her eyes as she gently closes my still-gaping mouth. "I have to go, Sven; I couldn't bear it if you were hurt for me. Please, remember me." All I can do is nod, stunned, as she steps over to her father. "I'm ready." Triumph shines in his gaze as he grabs her arm and leads her away.

Avok steps closer to me, sword lowered, almost friendly. "My sister is a naïve fool," he says softly, beneath her hearing. "Father's word did NOT include me." Before I can take in his words, he reverses his grip on his sword and swings it, savagely smashing the pommel against my temple. "And for the ring I saw on her hand. . ." Fire erupts in my right shoulder. As I crumple to the ground, the world fading around me, I hear Romelle scream my name above running footsteps.