Bound to Gods

by Eva Chase

  A few minutes of embarrassed agony while the damned dark elf stitched my lips was an easy trade for keeping her safe. I’d endured the gods’ unruly tempers enough times. She shouldn’t have to suffer in my place.

  “They had their moments, even the ones I didn’t care for much,” I said. “I found my ways of getting along with them.”

  “I guess there must have been something you liked about this place if you stayed here even when they treated you like that, instead of going home.”

  “Good food, comfortable lodgings, a temperate climate—what’s not to love.” I shook my head with a bemused smile. She didn’t know what she was talking about when she called the realm of the giants my home. “You have to remember that my alternative was a rather barren land full of aggressive idiots whose preferred pastime was finding someone’s head they could bash in. As you might imagine, I didn’t get along with my neighbors there very well either.”

  “No, I guess not,” she muttered, and kicked at a fallen twig. “I just can’t… Even Thor was ready to hurt you.”

  She was still stuck on that memory, was she? I supposed it was easier for me to set it aside when I had so many to compete with it.

  “None of them meant to do any permanent harm,” I said, letting my voice fall into a reassuring tone. “They were simply making sure I fulfilled my wager.” Even if it’d been their damned fault I’d lost it in the first place. Odin had done the final judging. “And Thor hadn’t known me all that long at that time. Once we’d set out on a few quests of our own, tackled monsters and giant kings and wedding gowns—now that’s a story I’ll have to share in great detail some time—we developed a much better comradery. You’ve seen how we are now. No ill-feeling there.”

  “Hod seems to have some,” Ari said quietly.

  The twinge of anxiety I’d managed to shove low in my gut jangled through my nerves again. The less we talked about that the better. If Muninn hadn’t already added it to her schedule of horrors to inflict on us, I’d rather it stayed off.

  “And he’s welcome to it,” I said lightly. “All that glowering keeps him occupied. I expect he’d get very bored if he ever gave it up.”

  “But—”

  “Ari.” I stopped and turned to her, setting my hands on her narrow shoulders. A few strands of her dark blond hair drifted across her forehead, and I couldn’t resist the impulse to brush them away from her eyes. Perhaps partly because of the heat that sparked in her gaze at my touch. I couldn’t imagine ever getting bored of seeing that. Her passion was a gift in all its forms.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” I said. “I’ve taken care of myself for longer than you can conceive of. I was happy with the way things were, other than Odin’s mysterious absence, and I’m even happier now that you’ve joined us. The past is just the past, no matter what Muninn tries to make of it.”

  Ari studied my face as if she were trying to read a deeper truth behind my words. I let only warmth and good humor show in the smile. The rest wasn’t hers to carry anyway.

  She bobbed up on her toes, pressing a kiss to my lips that I hadn’t seen coming. A pleasant shiver passed through my pulse as I leaned in. Oh, yes, I’d chosen well when I’d set my sights on this soul.

  I teased my tongue along the seam of her mouth, and her lips parted with an eager sound. Our tongues twined together hotly. She leaned into me, her small curves flush against my chest. I might have taken a few moments in this lull to discover what other sounds I could encourage out of her with the graze of my hands and the flick of my tongue, but just then an irritated yet still elegantly feminine voice traveled through the trees.

  “Oh, damn it.”

  I raised my head, and Ari sank back down on her heels. “I think we may have discovered our missing goddess,” I said.

  Ari swiveled, hope lighting her face. She was as keen to be done with this place as I was. What memories was she afraid Muninn would conjure? I knew I’d only caught the barest hints of them, she kept them locked up so well.

  We hurried through the forest to where it thinned at the edge of Asgard’s orchard. In the midst of the gnarled apple trees, Freya was pacing. Her golden hair spilled to shadow her face as she stared at her hands. Her mouth was twisted at a fraught angle.

  “Not again,” she muttered, and then raised her voice. “Raven, stop this right now!”

  “I don’t think she’s likely to listen to you,” I said, ambling over. “If anything, she’s glad you’re distressed.” I cocked my head, considering her hands, which looked as smooth and slim as ever. “What exactly is the problem?”

  “Don’t pretend you can’t see it,” Freya snapped at me. “It was your fault the first time. I’m shriveling up all over again. Turning old.”

  I arched an eyebrow, taking in her perfectly youthful face, and laughed. “No, you’re not, oh goddess of beauty. She’s playing more memory tricks on you. You’re still yourself, as you were when we arrived here. She can’t actually change our own forms.”

  “But…” Freya thrust her hands farther out in front of her as if the distance would give her better perspective. The only line on her lovely face was the furrow down the middle of her brow. Muninn hadn’t managed to make her look old, but she had made the goddess look rather ridiculous. I couldn’t say I minded this trick all that much.

  “He’s right,” Ari said, pushing past me. She grasped Freya’s hands. “I promise you look exactly the same as when I first met you. Don’t let the raven mess with your head.”

  The grip of Ari’s fingers against her own must have broken the illusion. The goddess let out a sigh of relief. She patted her face in turn. “What a wretched trick that was.”

  What a vain woman stood before me. Was that really the worst situation she’d ever encountered in her long life? I’d like to see her trade for some of mine.

  “So, that was the worst thing you could imagine, dear Freya,” I teased. “The most horrifying memory Muninn could pluck from your mind was the time you started to age?”

  She grimaced at me. “If I remember correctly, none of the gods was all that pleased about the situation. No thanks to you.”

  Ari glanced my way. “How did you make the gods get old?”

  I waved my hand. “Another long story. Once upon a time we required the apples of a special tree in this orchard to maintain our youth. Through a total accident, the goddess who picked those apples was kidnapped. With a little quick thinking and quick flying, I retrieved her and all was well.”

  “I’m not sure how purposely leading her beyond Asgard’s walls was an accident,” Freya said.

  “I couldn’t have known what the eagle wanted with her,” I protested. “Perhaps he was simply looking to have a chat.”

  Ari swiveled on her heel, taking in the orchard. “Do you still need to eat those apples to stop you from getting old… and dying, I guess?”

  “No, thank Asgard,” I said. “Our rebirth after Ragnarok removed them as a necessity. As I’m sure Freya has been deeply appreciative of, so that she never needs to worry about so much as a gray hair or a wrinkle.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Freya said. “What’s worse—to be upset at losing one’s youth or to take glee in seeing it happen to others?”

  The retort rankled. I hadn’t been gleeful. It was good for the soul to find humor in dire circumstances, not that she’d know much about that. What had Odin seen in her to make her his second wife, anyway? Had she addled his brains with beauty and superficial charms?

  “I was too busy risking my life fixing the problem to be taking much glee,” I said with a roll of my eyes, keeping my tone light. “I don’t recall you contributing much to the effort other than handing over the use of your falcon cloak. I suppose all the rest of your energy was needed to mourn your beauty.”

  Freya’s jaw clenched. “You should have mourned it too, I think. Without that beauty, how would you ever have been able to come up with so many schemes around marrying me off to this creature or that one?”


  “Oh, there were plenty of pretty faces around Asgard. I suppose I could have offered up your daughter.”

  I knew my tongue had flown too fast from the shadow that crossed the goddess’s face. Not that her kind had ever shown consideration to my children.

  She raised her hand to point an accusing finger at me, and the ground shook with thundering footsteps. I spun around to see none other than Thrym himself, once king of the giants, barreling toward us through the trees.

  9

  Aria

  The entire orchard trembled as the massive figure barged toward us. Tall as Loki and nearly as brawny as Thor, the huge man toppled one tree with one swipe of his bulging arm and wrenched another up by its roots with a roar. Swaths of leather hung across his scarred body. A dented iron crown sat haphazardly on his wiry brown hair.

  “Oh, perfect,” Freya said, backing up to the thicker shelter of the forest. “Now you’ve brought the king of the giants to life. Just what we needed.”

  Loki snorted. “I brought him to life? I don’t recall sending out any invitations.”

  “You brought up all your schemes, all the ways you used me in your wagers. It seems to me the biggest wager was against him. Where do you think the raven of memory got this idea?”

  “Ah, I believe you were the one who started venting about my scheming and the various wagers I can assure you I never initiated. Well, at least not the ones involving your hand in marriage, as in-demand as that boon was.”

  The raging giant tore up another tree and hurled it in our direction. I scrambled backward and ducked behind a pine. “Um, would you two mind settling this argument later and dealing with the giant king who’s looking to smash us to pieces now?”

  “With pleasure,” Loki said, drawing his dagger from his belt with a flash of metallic light. “I have plenty of practice cleaning up the messes the goddess gets into.” He beamed at Freya.

  “That I get into?” Freya sputtered. “If I tried to count the number of times your supposed cleverness put us on the edge of disaster—”

  “You don’t need to. Continue contemplating your restored beauty and I’ll take on the giant.”

  The giant in question stomped closer. I unfurled my wings, tuning out the rest of their conversation. I, at least, was going to do something to make sure Muninn’s latest creation didn’t batter us to smithereens. Maybe the hulking giant didn’t look all that threatening to the gods, but I sure as hell didn’t want to just sit around and wait for him to attempt to crush me.

  I flicked out my switchblade and launched myself into the air. The arching branches all around made it hard to get much of an advantage in the air. The giant had almost reached the forest now, a trail of destruction strewn through the orchard behind him. I couldn’t match him hand-to-hand, that much was obvious. But if I could find a weak spot like I had with the ceiling in Valhalla… A strike in the right place, and he should crumble into dust like the wargs, like the gods who’d grabbed Loki would have if I’d gotten in a good enough hit.

  The eyes, maybe? If I could get close enough to his face to pull that off. The thought of going in there ready to stab that almost human figure in the most vicious of ways made my stomach lurch.

  Just a construct out of memories, I reminded myself. Like target practice. Nothing real. No life lost.

  Not that I could claim my hands were clean of actual killing after all the dark elves we’d had to slaughter fighting our way to what we’d thought was Odin. That bridge had already been crossed.

  Switchblade at the ready, I glided closer to the giant. He snapped a huge branch off one of the apple trees and swung it in front of him like a club. His ruddy eyes focused on me.

  “I won’t be embarrassed like this!” he snarled. “You’ll bring her to me, or you’ll all fall.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn’t seem interested in bringing me up to speed. Before I’d had a chance to do anything at all, he heaved the branch toward me. I vaulted off a nearby trunk higher into the air, flipping over a tree top. My wings caught me over his head.

  The giant slashed upward with the branch faster than I’d expected given his bulk. I shoved myself to the side with a flap of my wings, but the jagged end slammed into my ribs.

  I tumbled into another tree with a hiss of pain. My chest throbbed all across my left side. More bruises to add to my growing collection.

  Back in the forest, Loki swore. “Ari!” Freya called out. Splintered wood crackled underfoot as they both charged into the orchard.

  I tossed myself out of the way of another swing of the giant’s makeshift club, gritting my teeth against the burning in my ribs. My switchblade. My hands were empty. It must have fallen from my grasp when the branch walloped me.

  My heart skipped with a sharper panic than even the giant had provoked. That knife was the only thing I had left of Francis. I couldn’t lose it here. Muninn’s world of illusions might swallow it right up if I didn’t get it back quickly.

  I scrambled down from the tree I’d landed in. The giant gave another roar. Then Freya leapt between me and that hulking form, her sword gleaming in the sunlight.

  “It’s me you wanted, isn’t it, Thrym?” she said, settling into a fighting stance. “Why don’t you come and get me?”

  “I demand Freya as my bride!” the giant king bellowed. “A fair trade, the goddess for the god’s hammer. I will have my price.”

  She grinned fiercely, her beauty turned blazing. “Here I am. So sad that so many of you forget I’m the goddess of war as much as the goddess of love. And I know exactly which side of me you deserve. Don’t you dare lay one more finger on our valkyrie.”

  The anger in those words sent an ache through my chest. She wasn’t just defending herself but me too. I’d better get on with helping her do it.

  I cast around on the ground, searching for my knife. The thud of metal hitting wood rang out behind me. Then a sizzle and a bellow that sounded more pained than furious.

  “Oh, and here I thought flames made a lovely addition to your weapon of choice,” Loki’s flippant voice rang out. “Look at that branch with its merry blaze.”

  A glint of blue caught my eye. There! I lunged for the switchblade, almost nicking my fingers in my haste to snatch it up. A pang shot through my ribs, but I ignored it. My hand clamped tight around the plastic handle. I spun around to join the battle.

  There wasn’t much left to join. Freya was slashing at the giant king from one side and Loki taunting him with jabs of his dagger and flashes of fire on the other. One giant, even a king, obviously wasn’t much of a match for two powerful gods. And Loki could say whatever he wanted about his heritage, but watching him there, his face glowing with power as he distracted the giant long enough for Freya to whip her blade across the back of the brute’s knees, he couldn’t have looked more different from the man they were fighting.

  That hulking monster was a giant. Loki might have been one once, not that it sounded as if he’d ever really belonged with them, but after all that time among the gods, I couldn’t see him as anything but a god himself.

  The slice of Freya’s sword made the giant topple to his knees with a groan. Freya stepped closer, and at the same moment the hulk snatched a pointed spear of broken wood off the ground and thrust it toward her.

  I yelped a warning and hurtled myself forward with my enhanced valkyrie muscles. My outstretched heel smashed into the giant’s wrist. His fingers twitched, dropping the spear. Then he was sweeping that hand toward me. I threw myself into the air. He grabbed my ankle, wrenching me backward—and Freya brought her sword to his neck.

  “This is as close to me as you’re ever going to get,” she said, and severed his throat with one swift strike.

  No blood streamed down. The giant collapsed completely deflating with a puff of that awful dust.

  Freya stood over him, panting. Dirt had streaked her arms and the side of one cheek, but it didn’t dull her beauty. I wasn’t sure how anyone could forget
she was the goddess of war once they’d seen her like that even once.

  No wonder Odin had wanted her to be his queen.

  “Thanks,” I said, coming back to earth with a flap of my wings. I stuffed my switchblade into my pocket. “I didn’t know it mattered to you much if I got tossed around.”

  I’d meant it as a joke, but the words came out a little flat. Freya glanced at me.

  “You are our valkyrie,” she said. “All of ours, even if I didn’t have a direct hand in summoning you. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be any closer to finding my husband. You’ve fought for me a lot more than I’ve fought for you already.” The corner of her lips curved up. “And it is nice to have a break from the constant manly posturing. I really didn’t want to lose the first chance at proper female companionship I’ve had in a century or two.”

  I hadn’t really had friends even when I was alive. Too hard to trust anyone that much. No time to devote to them, when it all went to looking after Petey and making more money so I could do the first part even better. It was kind of hard to wrap my head around the idea that a goddess might want my “companionship.” I wasn’t sure exactly what we were going to talk about once we were done with the basic “explain to me how the hell this or that godly thing works” topics, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. Not when she still had that sword in her hand, anyway.

  Loki ambled over to join us, swiping the sweat from his high forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. “Well,” he said, “we can’t say the raven isn’t keeping us on our toes. If I ever complained that our lives weren’t exciting enough, I apologize tenfold.”

  Freya raised her eyebrows at him and sheathed her sword. Loki’s smile turned sheepish. “Also I apologize for implying you couldn’t fight your own battles, dear goddess. Possibly I’ve underestimated you every now and then.”

  “Possibly?” Freya said.