Is he actually asking me for my opinion? And how come he’s willing to hand me over to a mere soldier? This is unusual but then again Iversen is pretty unusual. And the man who’s allowed to marry me will also be the one who earns the spot. My father’s slowly stepping down from his position as the underboss and another male will have to take his place. They would all like to have a chance with me. I wouldn’t be happy if I were they either. The other young soldiers stir, exchanging glances and they don’t look too happy. It’s why he keeps calling me my father’s daughter and my dad frowns. Lowering his head to be respectful, Iversen murmurs, “It’d be an honor to be the one to take your daughter home.” He’s not allowed to say my name. A soldier doesn’t just stop the underboss like that and my pulse races. Does he have a death wish today? He really doesn’t know his place.
Tugging at my father’s worn coat, I whisper,ĭad looks to the boss who nods, giving his permission and dad and I turn around to leave when Iversen stops us.
The funeral’s coming to an end and I shiver when the wind whistles through the spruces and I’m so cold my teeth chatter. If he decided to start inking away it would be considered a grave offence.Īn offence grave enough to get you killed. He has a tattoo on the side of his torso but all men in the mob are tattooed with runes. How isn’t he cold? I’d be cold if the breeze kept lashing against my six-pack and my pecs. He’s bare-chested, save from the fur of a polar bear that’s flung over his shoulders. I try not to stare at his chest and his arms.
They cut through like a blade but it doesn’t hurt. Iversen’s eyes meet mine and I hide a gasp. My eyes follow the boat and the reality of it all dawns on me.
Important Reasons for Having Mirrors in Elevators
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