by Bec McMaster
Or was her spirit haunting the court?
There had been… several odd occurrences of late. One of Rurik’s guards had vanished completely, and nobody could find a trace of him. Then there’d been the day the queen’s chambers were found in ruins, the curtains on her bed slashed to ribbons and all her gowns torn to pieces. They’d thought it was one of the drekling or dreki Amadea had once tortured, taking their rage out upon the queen’s old chambers.
Mirrors kept breaking within the court, and several dreki had reported a sudden chill, as if a shadow swept over them.
Superstition, he’d thought at the time, far too enamored of his new mate to look further.
“You’re probably right.” Marduk stood and straightened his sling. “It’s probably just an echo of her magic remaining. None of us truly understand the limits of Chaos magic. Perhaps some of her spells are slowly unwinding and I can still sense them. I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep if you can. We’ll fly after Ishtar in the morning, as soon as my shoulder is healed.”
Sirius took his advice, stretching out in his bedroll and staring at the stars above him. No matter how much he tossed and turned, the knot in his belly wouldn’t go away.
Because Malin was at that court, and if the queen’s shade somehow haunted it, then she’d be the first dreki that Amadea would seek to destroy.
Eleven
Malin’s skirts swished along the court’s floors as she went in search of her sister. She’d barely seen Elin this week, but one of the court’s drekling had seen her pass this way, and she desperately needed to talk about their father.
Pushing open the enormous door that guarded the royal family’s vault, Malin summoned a globe of fire to light her way. The little light flickered in the gust of wind the door made, but it was growing easier to control her fledgling powers. Sirius had been working with her on her magic before he’d been sent on the quest to find Marduk, and though he’d warned her to conserve herself, she couldn’t help trying her magic at every stage. She wanted to surprise him with her progress when he returned.
“Elin?” she called.
There was a green light glowing from the back of the vault. Malin frowned as the green abruptly faded, replaced by a warmer glow.
“Malin? What are you doing down here?” her sister called.
Malin hurried past the cases filled with the former queen’s jewels. The new queen—Freyja—had no liking for gold and gems, a decision that perplexed most of the court, and so they’d been banished to this dark room. She couldn’t say she blamed the queen. Every jewel in the vault had once adorned Queen Amadea, and she wouldn’t want to wear them. Most of them held emeralds, and it felt as though malevolent green eyes watched her from the darkness, as the light from her flame winked over them.
Malin shivered.
Creepy.
“I could ask the same of you,” she called back before stopping abruptly. Her sister wasn’t alone.
Elin pressed a hand to Thorvald’s chest, staring into the dreki warrior’s eyes. Her smile held a sharp edge Malin didn’t recognize. “Later,” she whispered to him, and then turned her full attention to Malin as Thorvald pushed away from her. “What do you want?”
Malin watched Thorvald go. She had no right to say anything about Elin’s seeming flirtations with several of the court dreki, but why did she have to choose him? He’d once been a mercenary who’d served Queen Amadea, and though he’d thrown down his weapon during the coup and bent knee to King Rurik, Malin’s skin crawled whenever she saw him.
King Rurik may have granted several of his mother’s dreki guards lenience in order to help repair a fractured court, but she didn’t trust them an inch. The court may be undermanned and vulnerable to outside threats without them, but she rather thought the threat within was like putting a knife to the court’s throat.
“I wanted to… discuss Father with you,” she said, once she saw Thorvald close the vault door behind him. “He’s starting to worry me.”
Elin rolled her eyes. “In what way?”
“He’s absorbed in his books. He keeps muttering about the ljósálfar, and saying he needs to know more about them. He barely eats. Barely drinks.”
“The elves?” Elin mused. “They were stranded in their home world of Álfheimr after we closed the circles to them a thousand years ago. Why is he so interested in them?”
“I don’t know.” As the clan lore master, it wasn’t uncommon to find Sigurd buried in his books, but the level of absorption bothered her. And…. “He’s refusing to be alone with the queen. Dreki are starting to notice.”
Elin’s eyes locked upon her with sudden interest. “The queen. How… interesting.” She tapped a finger to her lip and turned away to stroll between the cases displaying Amadea’s jewels. “Why is he afraid of the queen?”
“I don’t know if he’s afraid.” Malin followed her. “But he’s definitely wary. And Queen Freyja’s been so kind. I know several of the court think her human blood makes her unworthy to rule them but—”
“Do they?” Elin’s eyes flashed. “Which ones?”
Malin named a handful of dreki, but she paused when she saw her sister cock her head consideringly. “Does it matter? The queen has accepted all drekling like ourselves—”
“Myself,” Elin corrected. “You’re dreki now, Malin. You’re no longer one of us.”
She gaped. Was this why Elin had grown so seemingly distant of late? “You know I still think of myself as drekling.”
“You can fly now.” Elin’s lip curled in a sneer. “You can shift shape. I am the one trapped in this weak, pathetic body.”
“Elin! You’re not pathetic—”
Elin brushed her hands off and turned away, but not before Malin saw something she’d never noticed before. “Why are you wearing the queen’s necklace?”
Elin merely wrapped her hand around the gold chain and slipped the enormous emerald pendant inside her gown. “Queen Amadea has no further use of it.”
“Yes, but they’re not ours.” It made no sense. Elin had never shown any liking for precious gems, despite her dreki heritage, and her sister was no thief. “The king—”
“Do you ever grow weary of being so sanctimonious?” Elin curled her lip as she swished past Malin. “I know I do.”
Malin gaped after her. “Elin!”
Elin slid her hand along one of the glass cases, staring at the jewels a little dreamily. “Ever since you mated with that overgrown piece of filth, you’ve changed.”
“I’ve changed?” This was not the sister she’d grown up with. Malin drew herself up firmly. “And Sirius is not filth. He’s the very reason this court broke free of Amadea’s poison.”
“Mmm.” Elin’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “I’ll have to thank him for that one day. And the role he played in Amadea’s death. The Blackfrost. The hero of the court.”
Malin stared after her helplessly. She’d known Elin remained wary of Sirius, but she’d hoped that her sister’s feelings would have softened by now, once she came to know him. The real him.
“Go back to the fancy chambers you share with the Blackfrost,” Elin told her coldly. “And don’t worry about Father. I think I’ll have a little chat with him myself. He does tell me everything, after all. Maybe I can discover the new queen’s little secret?”
Malin stared at her sister, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Don’t bother. I wish I’d never mentioned it.” Turning around, she snapped her fingers and extinguished the fire ball, plunging them into a near darkness so Elin couldn’t see her tears. “And take Amadea’s necklace off. You’re even beginning to sound like her, and I’d much prefer to have my sister back.”
Sirius stared into the night.
“You’re bothered,” Tormund said. “By what Marduk said about his mother.”
“Marduk was always slightly strange,” Sirius replied, his dark hair fluttering in the breeze. “Rurik was his father’s son, but Árdís and Marduk held some of th
eir mother’s gifts. And now Árdís can wield Chaos magic, and Marduk can hear its call.”
“And he thinks he can still hear Amadea’s magic calling to him.” Tormund sank down onto his haunches. He didn’t entirely understand what had happened during the coup within the Zini clan—there’d been far too much magic being slung around, and he’d been sent to rescue Sirius from the bowels of the court dungeon. He hadn’t seen Queen Amadea die, though he’d heard of how Sirius dueled her. “Could it be possible she survived?”
The dreki warlord’s face hardened. “No. I killed her. I know I did. I stood over that bonfire and warmed my hands while her body burned. It was the second-best moment of my life.”
“Every now and then you say something that reminds me of how dangerous you are.” Tormund shook his head. “Even if you’re mostly as soft and cuddly as a child’s bear.”
Sirius shot him a hard look, but he was clearly troubled for his gaze returned to the horizon. “If there’s even a chance she did somehow survive, then she would want revenge.”
Malin.
Sirius was thinking of Malin.
“She’s safe,” Tormund replied. “She’s at court, with Rurik and Árdís to watch over her.”
“When has that ever stopped Amadea?”
“You’re the one who says she’s dead. I’m fairly certain death would stop her.”
“Not necessarily.” Sirius stared bleakly into the night. “Amadea was a powerful practitioner of Chaos magic, and there are few of us who truly understand the limits of such power. If we’re lucky when we die, the mother goddess allows our spirits to ride the horizon each night for the rest of eternity, though the rest of us are absorbed back into the colossal body. If anyone’s spirit was going to escape the goddess’s judgement, then it would be hers.”
Tormund clapped a hand on his back. He didn’t believe in borrowing trouble, but he was fairly certain Sirius wouldn’t sleep at all until he’d investigated. “I don’t understand Chaos magic or dreki myth, but I do know that bitch wouldn’t hesitate to curse you with her dying breath—or do anything to take revenge upon her son, Rurik. If it’s possible she could have somehow survived, then I think you need to investigate.”
“We’ve just found the prince.”
“And the three of us can get him home,” he told the dreki warlord. “We don’t need you watching over us for the rest of our journey like some mother hen, albeit one with excellent hair and an evil smirk. ”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Sirius sneered.
“You’ve grown on me, I’ll admit.” Tormund sobered. “My cousin spent seven years in the depths of hell, pining for the wife he thought he’d lost. If anything happens to Árdís now, he may never recover. And I like your wife and her sister and your brother…. I don’t know why, but I just feel that there’s something more to Amadea’s death than there appears.”
Sirius stared toward the north-east. “So do I. I’ll leave in the morning.” He sighed. “You’re an annoying little gnat, but you have a good heart, Tormund.”
“Did you… just admit that you like me?”
A baleful glare almost incinerated him. “Don’t push your luck,” the prince snarled, shoving to his feet.
Twelve
“I think you’re going to miss him,” Bryn said, dumping her saddlebags by the river. Judging by the clouds, she had perhaps a good half hour before the sun fully rose. Sýr floated above them, keeping a watchful eye on the Blackfrost’s departing form, but apart from that they were all alone.
Tormund stilled, the water barely covering his hips. He glanced over his shoulder in surprise, then arched an arrogant brow. “Who? That overgrown black lizard?”
Bryn kicked her boots off, enjoying the sight of his bare back. “I think he wins. He called you an irritating flea on a camel’s backside.”
“He told me he liked me.”
“Really?” she drawled, tugging the leather thong from the ends of her hair. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“He said I have a good heart, which is virtually the same.”
“I’m not entirely certain the Blackfrost meant that as a compliment. Isn’t he evil?”
Tormund sank into the water, splashing his arms back and forth lazily. “He used to be, they tell me. Malin tamed the vicious beast and practically muzzled him. What are you doing?”
She could have asked herself the same question.
What are you doing?
She should have been preparing for the journey home and plotting how best to finish Solveig’s contract. Instead, she’d heard him splashing in the stream and hadn’t been able to resist joining him.
“Marduk’s taking a test flight with Haakon, to ensure his wing has healed. When they return we’re leaving, which means this is my last chance to wash.” Or maybe just her last chance to spend time with Tormund. Bryn raked her fingers through her braids, loosening them. Her scalp itched in relief, and she scraped her nails over it, groaning in pleasure.
His eyes narrowed as her fingers dropped to the buttons of her shirt. “Hmm. It looks like you’re planning on torturing me.”
“Torturing you?” She paused with her fingers on the lowest button.
Tormund sighed and turned around, the broad expanse of his shoulders wet and sleek. He had a bar of soap in his hands and scrubbed it over his shoulders. “Actually, I think torturing me is the highlight of your day.”
“Perhaps a little.”
His courtesy was unexpected and she had to admit she liked it. He left her with all the choices in this situation, and it disarmed her in a way she’d never expected. Too many men had made demands of her over the years, and she’d swiftly developed the means to deter them. But though Tormund clearly pursued her, he did it in such a way that she felt entirely safe.
Bryn dropped the shirt, enjoying the way he stiffened. She started working on the buttons of her trousers. “Why do we always seem to end up in water together? Naked?”
“I don’t know. I was here first. And as I recall, I was in the bathtub at Hof first too.” His voice lowered. “Are you trying to steal my virtue, Bryn?”
“Your virtue is a far distant dream,” she replied with a snort. Working out of the rest of her clothes, she tiptoed toward the river, squeaking at the cold when she dipped a toe in. “Odin’s balls, this is freezing!”
“Bracing.”
“Is that going to be your excuse?” she teased.
“Woman, I need no excuse. Maybe now you’ll be able to handle all of me.”
Bryn laughed.
Sucking in a shallow breath, she strode into the water. Every inch bit at her skin until the best resort was to dive under.
Bryn came up with a shocked gasp, finding Tormund laughing at her. The way he threw his head back drew her eyes. He lived life to the fullest, and there was never a moment where he wasn’t simply enjoying himself immensely.
I like him, she thought, watching his white teeth flash. I like him far too much.
It would be easy to ride at his side and sit by a campfire with him, rolling her eyes at his terrible jokes. And a part of her yearned to share the easy camaraderie he and Haakon owned. She’d barely known him a handful of days and yet it already felt like forever.
She’d never missed her sisters more.
And she’d never regretted her path in life so much.
“You have pensive eyes,” he told her, scrubbing soap through his hair. Lather dripped down his forearms and elbows, splattering across his chest. “I never know what you’re thinking.”
“I always know what you’re thinking.” Always. And it was the one thing that allowed her to let her shields drop around him. She’d never let another man in, but she knew, in some instinctive part of her soul that Tormund would never break her heart.
No. She’d be the one to ruin him.
“Are you saying I’m a man with few depths?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “You speak your mind. You don’t hesitate to reply to a single quest
ion. You simply… are. I’ve never encountered a man like you before.”
He winked and then sank under the water, washing the soap out. Flipping his hair back, he surged out of the water, preening all the while. “I did warn you. There are no men like me.”
They circled each other.
Bryn swallowed. If it had merely been attraction, she would have crept into his blankets days ago. But she couldn’t help wishing that she didn’t have to betray him.
“And what do you think I am thinking?” he asked, raking his wet hair back off his face. The movement flexed the muscles in his biceps, drawing her eyes to the tanned skin there.
“That I should be admiring your arms,” she whispered. “And no doubt every other inch of you.”
His eyes widened. “God’s gift. You do know what I’m thinking.”
She splashed him in the face as he swam closer. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“That Tormund is the most marvelous specimen of man known to this mortal plane, and that you desperately want him to kiss you.”
Maybe. But she swallowed hard. “No.”
“That you are dirty and you want him to wash your back?” He held the soap up.
“I can wash my own back. And I don’t think you’ll stop with my back if I let you start there.”
Tormund shrugged. “It’s not my fault if you start begging me for more. These hands are known to work magic, woman.”
“I don’t beg anyone. Wrong, again.”
Tormund looked her in the eye. “That you’re here for your own purposes and you’re finding it increasingly hard to keep your distance because you like me far too much.”
It was astounding how close he came to the truth. Bryn froze, her heart skipping a beat and then rushing back in to fill the void.
And he smiled. “Ah. It only took me three guesses. I’ll get better once you let me in.”
“You assume I’m going to let you in.”
He drifted closer, until they were but inches apart. “Your shield arm is strong, Bryn. But it’s weakening. You did teach me a few things when we were sparring.”
