by Lora Edwards
Ovidia stalked over to the center of the mat and closed her eyes for a brief moment, centering herself. She slowly opened her eyes then called out, “Begin.” A tall, muscular man with an earring in one ear appeared before her, dressed in loose pants and a shirt made of rough-hewn cloth.
“You ready for a fight, little girl?” He spoke in the most awful accent as he pulled a cutlass out of a sheath attached to his wide leather belt. Armand really needed to get someone to work on that audio program.
Ovidia smiled, laughing a little. “Yes, yes I am.” Her broadsword sang as she pulled it out of thin air. “Cutlass,” she said, and a bright light surrounded the weapon. The broadsword was replaced with a gleaming cutlass, a glittering blue stone glinting in its hilt.
Ovidia looked at the hologram pirate once more and gave a smile that reflected her love of a good battle. The fire of her berserker ancestors shown bright in her eyes. “Come and get it, matey,” she growled, speaking in an equally awful pirate accent. All thoughts but the battle ahead left her mind as her blood pumped in time with the music. She swung her cutlass as she advanced on the pirate.
Tired but feeling much better, she set a steaming plate of pasta next to her salad. With a chilled glass of wine in hand, she settled in at her Euro-style pub table. Ovidia took a bite of the seafood dish and groaned in appreciation as the briny shrimp and creamy sauce with a bite of garlic mixed together on her tongue.
She would be forever grateful for Mrs. Avery, without whom she would starve. Ovidia made quick work of the meal, just barely restraining herself from licking the plate.
She quickly rinsed the dishes then placed them in the dishwasher. She smiled. There was nothing like a rousing sword fight followed by delicious food to restore a girl’s good mood. She would go to Armand tomorrow to accept the mission and stop acting like a shrinking violet. She was a Valkyrie, a warrior. Mind made up, she felt like a new woman. She needed to go out, to be with people. Teagan was on her honeymoon, so she would go visit her favorite club solo. It was a favorite of the many paranormals of the institute, and good company would be easy to find. Ovidia stood in front of her closet, debating her options before finally choosing her favorite stoplight-red sheath dress with a daring leg slit. She brushed her long blonde hair into waves down her back then chose red and white gems that sparkled at her ears and throat. She lightly sprayed on her favorite scent, and with lips slicked a Siren red, she was ready to party.
She grabbed her key and a silver clutch off the table beside the couch as she opened the door and ran straight into a broad chest. Inhaling, she smelled a very familiar scent. Olivia carefully composed her face into a sneer before she stepped back and looked up into his face.
Even after all this time, he still had the power to stop her heart. She was a tall woman, made taller by the killer heels she wore, but he still towered over her, emanating heat and arrogance. The twin pulls of desire and resentment coursed through her
Cocking her hip and raising an eyebrow, she met his gaze. The artic blue of his eyes cut through her. “As you can see, I was just headed out. Is there something I can help you with,” she asked.
“Vid, I…just wanted to talk. I want you on this mission. I think we can make a good team,” Erik said, running his hand through his sandy blond hair. He looked as if he had stepped out of a painting of a raiding Viking, standing well over six feet with piercing ice blue eyes and muscles straining against the tight black t-shirt he wore.
“I know I am right for the mission, which is why I will be accepting first thing in the morning. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some dancing to do.” Ovidia stared at him, willing him to leave before her gaze slipped to his chiseled mouth.
“I heard you have become quite the party girl,” he said, his voice a bit gravelly.
Ovidia tapped one red nail against equally red lips “Party girl? I’m not sure I like the way you say that. If you mean I like to dance to good music and have a good time, then yes I have. I’m sorry if your staid domestic life isn’t working out all that well for you. How is Alexandra? Is marrying for duty all you thought it would be,” Ovidia said sharply, forgetting herself in the moment.
Erik started as if he’d been struck. “You really don’t know,” he said, his eyes wide.
“Know what Erik,” she asked snidely while tapping the toe of her shoe.
“I didn’t marry her,” he said flatly.
“So you shirked your duty after you broke our engagement?” Ovidia felt her eyebrows go into her hairline. She had been home several times since he’d left her, and no one had said a word. Her mother had even spoken of what a grand party the royal wedding in the neighboring kingdom of Thale had been until Ovidia had stopped her, not wanting the details.
“Vid, I didn’t marry her. She was in love with Calder, and he with her. I abdicated once I found out about their love in order to allow them to marry. Calder is now the king. He always wanted it more than I did,” he explained matter-of-factly
Ovidia stared at him as she tried to process the information. He hadn’t married Alexandra; he hadn’t become king. He had left her, and when he had abdicated, he hadn’t come to find her.
“Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” It started as a whisper then built into a roar.
Erik stepped back, knowing what Ovidia was like in full temper.
“After I called off the engagement and abdicated the throne to my brother, I was confused. I called Armand and asked to take on some dangerous missions solo, things the institute didn’t want advertised,” Erik said quietly, the ice to her fire.
“You’ve been working here all this time? And you never came to me? Talked to me? This whole time I thought you’d given us up for duty, and that I understood. I’ve been home…my parents, family, friends—everyone let me believe…” She trailed off, stunned by the betrayal of those close to her.
“Vid, I’m sorry, we were just so intense together. When I had the chance to step back, I took it. I just needed some time.”
Ovidia’s smile glittered like a knife. “Well you have your time—you have the rest of your life, mate. I will accept this mission and I will work with you to save the Siren, but do not think for one minute that there will ever be anything between us again.” Pushing him out of her doorway, Ovidia closed her door with a definitive snick. She turned on her spiked heel and walked down the hallway toward the elevator without a backward glance. Climbing in, she blindly tapped the down arrow and just stared blankly at the wall. She would go out, take a walk around the block to make sure he was gone, then return home. Her earlier good mood gone, she no longer felt the need to be with people.
Teagan would be back from her honeymoon in just over a week, and Ovidia would spill the entire story of the betrayal to her best friend. It was a relief that Teagan had been brought into her heritage; it would make it easier because Ovidia would not have to make up a background story for Erik. She could tell Teagan the whole sordid tale. Her best friend’s sage advice on how to handle the mess she found herself in would put her world on an even keel again.
The damndest thing was that she was still in love with him, and when he’d said he was not married to Alexandra, that flare of hope had kindled inside of her again. It could kindle all it wanted, but she would not place herself in a position to be vulnerable again.
Chapter 3
Ovidia strode into Cleo’s sanctuary again, ready to do battle with the dragon at the gate. Cleo looked up from where she was typing at the computer. “He’s ready for you,” she said in a cool voice before turning back to her keyboard.
“She’s actually doing something besides filing her nails—it’s a miracle,” Ovidia said under her breath.
“I heard that, Valkyrie,” Cleo sang out as she walked by.
“You were supposed to, dragon,” Ovidia said with a wicked smile as she breezed by Cleo’s desk. The slight twitch of the dragon’s lips—what passed for a smile from Cleo—let Ovidia know that the previous day’
s drama was forgotten.
“Ovidia, nice to see you so early in the morning. I trust you’ve thought over the mission?” Armand said, lifting one eyebrow. His mouth twitched as he tried to hide his amusement.
“Laugh it up Armand. I am here to formally accept this mission. I will kick its ass, rescue the Siren, and do it all with my usual style and panache,” she said, standing with her hands on her hips, towering over the vampire, who remained seated at his desk.
“I have every confidence that you will, Ovidia. You have yet to let me down,” Armand said, turning back to the paperwork on his desk.
Ovidia nodded one more time then strode to the door. Her hand was on the knob when she spoke again.
“You’re sure there is not another who could go on this mission with me? Couldn’t the pirate and I handle it on our own,” she asked, hoping against hope that Armand would change his mind.
“Ovidia, Blackbeard—well, Flynn is his real name—has his own concerns to deal with. He will be your transportation to the island. As you know, Erik has unique skills that will assist you on this mission,” Armand said in a tone that brooked no argument.
He knew that with some, he had to play the soft fatherly role, easing a person into their role in the institute. With others, such as Ovidia, he had to take a strong, commanding hand. Armand sighed. He had been running the institute for centuries, and it had been some time since he’d had a vacation. Maybe after getting Ovidia and Erik off on their mission, it might be a good time to visit Victor, or possibly spend some time in France…
The bullet crack of the door slamming brought him out of his reverie. A smile crept across his face. “Temper, temper, Ovidia,” he said to the empty room with a chuckle before he picked up the phone. He would put a call in to Victor. Perhaps they could meet in France; he could see his oldest friend and visit his vineyard all in one outing.
While Armand planned out his well-deserved vacation, Ovidia walked back to her apartment, her heels clicking angrily on the polished floor. She was still seething over Erik and his casual comment. She had tried sparring until her body was exhausted, but still, when she had lain down to sleep, her body begging for rest, her brain had whirled and spun with the information he had so flippantly told her.
He hadn’t married for duty. He had been gallivanting around the globe in different times risking life and limb on secret missions. He had thought their relationship had been too intense. She had loved him with all her heart and soul, and she would have given that up for duty to her Valkyrie sisterhood if needed. He had taken her love and thrown it aside because it had been too intense for him? Odin above, how could she have been so stupid?
She would work with him because she would not let something as pesky as her feelings get in the way of a mission, but if he intended to stay at the institute to work when this mission was over, she would resign and return home. There was plenty of work for a Valkyrie in her home world. It wasn’t far; just a simple slip through the glass in the library and she could be there.
It occurred to her that maybe a short trip back would be a good idea. Her parents were available, and while Ovidia had been placed in the finest English boarding schools from a young age, she still had a close connection to her parents. They had done what they thought best for her by having her go to boarding schools in this world. She had been handpicked, by Odin himself to go out to learn to blend in with this world in order to someday take her place at the institute. She could resign, of course; sometimes it just wasn’t a good fit. She could go home, help keep her kingdom safe. Her parents might not understand, may be disappointed, but they wouldn’t turn her away. With a plan in place, Ovidia strode back to her apartment to pack a bag and spend the next week in Kvenland with her parents. She would come back when Teagan returned from her honeymoon, and at that time, the real prep work for the mission would get underway.
Chapter 4
“Ovidia, my girl, it is good to see you. What are you needing today,” Hugh asked as she walked into the library later that afternoon. She smiled at the older man; he was a very powerful warlock, and Teagan’s grandfather. They had become close when Ovidia was a child and they’d traveled together to see Teagan in the US. Some of her fondest memories were of having Hugh come to the boarding school to pick her up then jump to America. Each time, Ovidia would have to make up a long boring story about a plane ride she didn’t actually take for Teagan. It had been easy as Teagan’s mother had put a block on Ovidia, which prevented her from saying anything about the institute, or magic, to Teagan. Ovidia was so happy that Teagan was now aware of her heritage and there were no secrets between them.
“Hugh, how are you,” Ovidia asked, giving the man one of her rare hugs. Ovidia was not an overly affectionate person, a product of being raised by strict Norse parents along with spending most of her formative years in a boarding school. She reserved affection for those closest to her. Ovidia inhaled deeply, savoring the calming scent of Old Spice and pipe tobacco. The combination of the two scents had always brought her comfort.
“I am good, my girl. I am good. I cannot complain—I have my Teagan back with me, and we are going to be doing research together like I always dreamed.” The smile on his face widened farther. “Even if she did take after her mother and hitched herself up to a rogue. Would it be too much to ask that one of my family members married a witch,” he asked, but she knew it was all bluster.
Teagan was Bran’s mate; they were fated to love each other. Ovidia had once felt the same of herself and Erik, but that had turned out not to be.
“Why the frown lass,” he asked, looking into her eyes.
She had never been able to hide anything from Hugh. “It’s nothing. You heard that Erik has come back to the institute?” At Hugh’s nod of assent, she continued, “He’s been working for the institute ever since he broke our engagement, something about dangerous secret missions.”
Hugh wisely kept his knowledge of said missions to himself; it would do no good to tell her he had known that scoundrel had been slinking around the shadows. “Yes, my girl, I had heard tell that he had returned,” he said instead.
“Not only is he back, he has been partnered with me since Bran isn’t going to be available to go with me on the Blackbeard mission,” she said.
Armand, that wiley bastard—what is he up to now, Hugh thought to himself.
“With Teagan gone and nothing mission-related really happening until she returns, I thought I might nip home for a bit, see the family,” Ovidia said.
Running and hiding was she, he thought with a smirk. His girl must truly be afraid of her feelings if she was willing to run instead of stand and fight. Maybe Armand knew what he was doing after all.
“Well, my girl, they are as close as the window. You have a safe trip, and give my love to your family.” He gave her one last squeeze.
Ovidia hugged her surrogate grandfather, picked up the bag she had set down, and walked to the window to wait for the stained glass to open a portal to Kvenland. She was proud of herself—she had shown restraint and only packed one piece of luggage. As she neared the stained glass window, which depicted a perfect image of the library, it began to shimmer. The tinkling sound of glass could be heard as it rearranged itself to display a different view.
For Teagan, it had shown her Faery, her father’s homeland. For Ovidia, it showed Kvenland, her home. The landscape it reflected was as different to the fae landscape as the sun was to the moon. Kvenland showed rocky granite cliffs that sparkled in a cold sunlight towering over frozen windswept white forests. A rugged road carved into the side of the mountain wound around and around, stopping at a massive grey stone castle perched on a cliff, overlooking a wild sea that continuously pushed against the land in a constant war of earth and ocean.
Ovidia stepped quickly through the window onto the platform on the other side. The wind slapped her in the face, chilled her to the bone. She wrapped her long wool coat tighter around her slim frame and smiled. She was home.
Ovidia took a deep breath as the coach pulled up. She may have come from a modern place, but here the modern world had been left behind, and she loved every minute of it.
“Lady Ovidia, let me help you with your bag,” the coach driver said, jumping down from his post to help her load her bag.
“Olaf, keep your seat. I have it, it’s not heavy,” she said as she easily flung the bag onto the coach before stepping up into it unassisted then firmly shutting the door. He just shook his head as he resumed his perch; Lady Ovidia had always been an independent soul.
She settled into the red velvet cushions of the seat, pulling a white fur throw over her lap. A lovely scent filled the carriage as Ovidia looked over to see the artful arrangement of evergreen, cloves, and heather that her mother had placed in the torch holder. It made her smile. Her mother might have been a somewhat hard woman, but she still sought to provide for her children’s comforts. Ovidia’s thoughts turned to her parents. They were an odd couple. They had married each other as most Norse couples did: in an arranged marriage between royal families after much negotiation. They were not in love, but they were committed to each other and their union.
Ovidia had grown up in a home where strength and courage were valued over affection, unlike the principles some other species practiced. When she went to boarding school, Ovidia had been surprised to see most of the parents hugging their children and shedding tears when dropping them off at the beginning of the year.
Ovidia couldn’t imagine her mother growing tearful at being parted from her. She knew her parents loved her fiercely, but it was rarely spoken in their home. They demonstrated it in their own ways by being proud of her skill with her weapon, her hand-to-hand fighting skills, and her intelligence. In some ways, Ovidia preferred this. Being a Valkyrie, she had sometimes been thought of as cold by some of her classmates, but it was just her nature.
