Perfekt Control (The Ære Saga Book 2)

by S. T. Bende

  Please let them have their clothes on. Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, let them be wearing clothes.

  “Henrik! Get out here. We’ve got new orders,” I bellowed into the flower-strewn space. My voice was so loud, the chorus of birds came to a screeching halt.

  “Hey!” Finnea’s surprised squeal broke through the silence. Henrik came tearing out from behind the waterfall, a glossy look in his eyes. Finnea stamped along behind him, adjusting her hair. I thanked every deity I could recall that neither was naked. “Get that rainbow out of here! We were having a moment.”

  “Moment’s over.” I grabbed Henrik’s hand and pulled him into the Bifrost with me. He reached down to grab his backpack, still propped against the rock on the side of the pond where he’d left it. “We’ve gotta dash. Nea-Nea, it’s been a real peach.” I waggled my fingers at her as Henrik ripped off his charm blockers and tossed them into his bag. I tried not to look victorious as he gripped my hand. What was the point? I might have been taking Henrik with me, but I had no claim on him. After all, he and I didn’t exactly have the…history he had with her.

  “See you later, Finnea.” Henrik gave a small nod and met my gaze with an apologetic look. “Where to?”

  “Heimdall,” I called upward, refusing to let emotions cloud my focus. “Take us to Muspelheim.”

  And without a backward glance, we flew through the realms, leaving one älva-laden Helheim for one dripping in lava, flames, and the all powerful fire giants.

  I didn’t know which was worse.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE MINUTE THE BIFROST dropped us into Muspelheim, Henrik held out his arm. I reached for it instinctively, then pulled back. Instead of letting Henrik comfort me, I put my elbows on my thighs and bent over, drawing deep breaths until the heaving stopped. Stupid Bifrost sickness.

  I stood quickly, and ignored the hurt look on Henrik’s face. I could barely handle my own energy right now—no way could I take on his.

  “Listen, Brynn. About what happened—”

  I pulled a dagger out of each boot and shared one with my partner. “It doesn’t matter. Follow protocol. We’re cloaked, right?”

  Henrik frowned, but waved his hand in front of us. “What the Hel? My magic’s not working. Why would… oh, skit.”

  “What?”

  Henrik pointed. “We dropped in too close to the castle. Royal residences are enchanted with enough dark magic to block my spells.”

  Fabulous.

  “We’re in the open, assess for immediate threats and find cover.” Henrik positioned his back against mine in the standard formation so we could turn a quick circle. I inched away from the contact, staying close enough to feel the vibration of his movement and counter-shift accordingly, but far enough that I didn’t actually have to touch him. I couldn’t. We kept our weapons drawn as we examined every inch of our surroundings for prospective threats.

  “Watchtower, my eleven o’clock,” I murmured as I pivoted. “It looks unoccupied but it could have a drone.”

  Henrik tensed against my back, but kept moving in rotation. “Gathering of younglings, my ten o’clock. One additional presence, semi-mature, possibly a sibling or babysitter.”

  We continued our tight circle. “Guard just rounded the castle wall. Jeez, how’d he miss the Bifrost dropping in?” I asked.

  Henrik pointed to a flaming tree on the opposite side of the castle. “He was probably distracted. I sent a detonator ahead of us as we left Alfheim, and the unsanctioned explosion should have pulled his focus.” He sounded smug.

  “Pretty pleased with yourself, ja, ace?” Oh, good. Joking took the edge off the pain. I’d have to remember that.

  Henrik ignored me. “Best cover at my six o’clock,” he deduced. “Near enough to the younglings we can determine whether they’re being watched, and hopefully pick up some information on what’s going on inside the castle. Do you think Freya’s being held there?”

  “Hardly likely.” I’d have to catch Henrik up to speed once we found cover. “I’ll follow you.”

  “Move out.” Henrik crouched as he ran to the foliage he’d determined to be the safest hiding spot. I followed, cringing with every twig snap and leaf crunch. There was no way we wanted to get captured here. I’d sooner go to Helheim.

  Helheim… I shuddered, pushing the underworld from my mind as I tucked my dagger back in my boot and dove into the bushes. Henrik and I crouched side by side behind a blue-leafed plant. I made sure to keep as many inches as possible between us.

  “You’re not going to touch me anymore?” Henrik’s mouth turned down as he tucked my second dagger into his belt. “Brynn, you have to understand, as much as I wa—”

  “Careful.” I untucked the bottom of my T-shirt and used it to cover my fingers so I could pluck a bloom from the branch by Henrik’s waist. As I tossed it onto the dirt, it burst into flames and rolled toward the castle. “Braxton bushes burn when they’re touched. And as luck would have it, they’re currently in season.”

  Henrik swore. “Brynn! I need you to listen to me.”

  I ignored his outburst as I plucked five more blooms from the bush. When we were safe from becoming Braxton fodder, I looked up. “Didn’t you learn about the fauna when you were here?”

  Henrik gave me a long stare. I clung to the protective bubble I’d placed around myself, and let his wounded look bounce right off. After a pause, he shook his head and seemed to let it go. Thank Odin. “No, I didn’t learn about fauna here. I never served in Muspelheim. My tours were in the cold realms. It’s where I learned to weaponize ice.”

  “That’s not good. Okay, Muspelheim is the complete opposite of Niflheim and Jotunheim in every possible way. You’re going to have to think counter-intuitively if you want to survive.” I mentally ran through the obvious dangers he’d need to watch out for, letting science do what it always had and override my emotions. “Okay, avoid contact with anything blooming. It will either burn you or bite you. Obviously steer clear of the fire giants—even the little ones.” I tilted my head at the gathering of younglings, each with mottled purple skin and big bulbous noses. The only obvious difference between them was their hair—each giant had a cascade of stringy strands that mimicked a different color of the rainbow. “And I’d say watch out for the guards, but all you really have to do is stay out of range of their weapons. They’re embarrassingly slow in every regard—slow movers, slow reactors, slow thinkers…” I trailed off. Henrik looked at me with an expression that bordered adoration and awe. “Why are you staring like that?”

  “You’re so calm about all of this. Most goddesses freak out about this realm, but you act like it’s no big deal.”

  “Because it’s not a big deal.” I shrugged. “Muspelheim may be the fiery embodiment of Hell the humans are so afraid of, but I did my tours here. Once you know what to avoid, it’s not too unpleasant. Well, the sulfur stinks. But other than that, it’s just another realm.”

  Henrik still stared, so I turned my attention to the younglings gathered twenty meters from the bush.

  “Get to work, Andersson,” I ordered.

  “I’m so sorry, Brynnie,” he murmured, squeezing my shoulder. My entire body stiffened. He was not supposed to be touching me. If he was sorry for not kissing me back, I didn’t want to talk about it. And if he was sorry about the alone time he’d just spent with the fairy, well, then I really didn’t want to talk about it.

  “I said, get to work.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry I never told you Finnea and I used to have a thing.” His fingertip grazed my collarbone, and I leaned farther away.

  “You don’t owe me an explanation. Let’s just pretend none of today ever happened. Skip all the awkward.”

  “But, I—”

  I inched as far away from Henrik as I could, given we were ensconced in a bush. We were not having this conversation. Me and my stupid kissy lips had ruined everything between us. The sooner we jumped into our new normal, the better. Uncomfortab
le heis on our way to the kitchen, duct tape down the middle of our lab space so there could be no accidental touching, awkward side-hugs at celebratory gatherings—bring it on. If I could gather dead souls and carry them thousands of miles on pegasus-back, I could so handle this. “We’ve got a job to do. Can we please table this for now?” Or maybe for always?

  Henrik didn’t look happy; in fact, the line of his jaw strained like he was biting down really hard on something sour. But he gave a curt nod.

  “Good. Because I need to brief you.” I exhaled. Chapter closed. Black box repaired and sealed. Moving on. “So before Tyr sent me to, um, get you, he told me Forse had a scout in Muspelheim named Hyro. According to Hyro, a portal opened up by the volcano not that long ago.”

  “A new portal or an existing one?” Henrik asked.

  “I don’t know. And I don’t know if it’s powered by dark matter, but given it’s in Muspelheim, odds are good it wasn’t an Aesir that set it up. We’re tasked with finding Hyro and obtaining any information the giant has about the portal and Freya’s potential whereabouts.”

  Henrik nodded. He reached out and lightly placed his hand over my heart. The heat from his palm was a sharp contrast to the icy barrier that I’d erected between us this morning, and I drew a ragged breath.

  “Listen, sötnos…” Henrik’s words dropped off as I inched away.

  “Please don’t touch me,” I whispered. I didn’t stop moving until his hand fell away from my heart.

  Henrik looked like I’d just slapped him. Our friendship had always been so easy. Well, it had been easy for him. I’d spent the last few centuries in love with a guy I’d never even had a chance with.

  Sometimes what was just well and truly sucked.

  “Brynnie—” Henrik started.

  But I cut him off by placing my finger against my lips. The younglings had scattered from their circle, and were moving through the clearing. Some headed toward the castle, while others walked in our direction. We held very still—odds were they were headed in the direction of the garden to our left, maybe to pick berries or sit in the shade. Both suns now blazed directly overhead, making the ground even hotter than usual. The soles of my feet began to warm inside my boots, and I sorely regretted my black outfit. The color soaked up the heat like a sponge. Henrik must have been feeling the effects of the climate too, because he shifted beside me. As he did, he lost his balance, and in a move of uncharacteristic clumsiness, he tumbled out of the bush. He dropped flat on the ground, his face pressed against the dirt. He wore the regulation black camos and T-shirt, so he should have blended with the sooty earth. But he rolled once as he fell, and the movement caught the eyes of two of the younglings. They scampered to his side.

  The one in the pink party dress clapped her hands gleefully. Since Asgardian secondary education covered all three of the fire giants’ dialects, I knew the little partygoer was from the southern region the minute she opened her mouth. “Ooh, a prince! I asked for one for my birthday, and I got him!”

  Henrik remained prone on the ground. Apparently Asgard’s former Elite Team Captain now subscribed to the youngling school of hiding—if he couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see him either. Snort.

  “I don’t know, Tullah.” The one in the blue tutu wrinkled her round nose. “He looks kind of funny to me.”

  “Of course he does. He’s a human prince. See the way his ears aren’t pointy? You’re the only one who wants an elf prince, Sabby.”

  The little giants thought Henrik was a human. Double snort.

  “Yeah.” Sabby poked Henrik’s head with the toe of her shoe. For the first time, he lifted his head from the dirt and opened his eyes. Since he didn’t appear in imminent need of rescuing, I decided to let him run lead on this one.

  “Ooh, he’s handsome!” Tullah lay with her belly on the dirt and propped her chin in her hands. She blinked adoringly at Henrik, now inches from his face. “Hello, prince. You probably can’t understand me because you only speak human, right?”

  “Uh, hello.” Henrik slipped into Tullah’s dialect as he lifted one hand from the ground in an awkward wave. If he wasn’t in immediate danger of blowing our cover, I’d have laughed out loud. As it was, I permitted myself one inward chuckle. A long one. This totally took the edge off my morning of mortification. Thank you, karma.

  “Are you here for my birthday? We’re having a tea party. Nanny just went in to get cake. Do you like cake? I bet you do. All princes like cake. And dancing. And balls.” Tullah twirled her ankles in the air. “Do you want to have a ball? I do. I’m a beautiful dancer. Want to see?”

  She jumped to her feet, and leapt into the air with all the grace of a dizzy rhino. Then she dipped into a low bow.

  “Wow, Tullah. That was really good.” Sabby looked genuinely impressed.

  “I know.” Tullah skipped back to where Henrik still lay prone, and squatted down. “Do you want to dance with me? Is that why Daddy sent you?”

  “I… er… you see, uh, Tullah, is it?” Henrik stammered.

  “Yep.” The little girl nodded happily.

  “Right. Well you see, Tullah, your, uh, daddy, wanted me to be a surprise for later in your party. After your cake. So be a good girl and go on back to the rest of your guests, okay?” Henrik pushed himself to his feet and patted the tiny giant on the head. She scrunched her face into a pout and stamped her foot.

  “No! I want you to dance with me, and I want you to do it now!” The last word came on a howl, and Henrik rushed to cover her mouth with his hands.

  “Shh!” He looked around wildly. “Somebody will hear you! Oh!” He pulled his hand away from the girl’s mouth and rubbed it. “You bit me!”

  “I don’t caaaare!” Tullah wailed. “It’s my birthday and I want to dance with a priiince!”

  “Okay, okay.” Henrik ran his hand through his soot-covered hair. “Let’s be quick about it, though. You wouldn’t want to keep your party guests waiting.”

  “Oh, no.” Sabby shook her head seriously. “You have to dance in front of everybody. Tullah said she was going to get a prince for her birthday and nobody believed her. If you don’t do it over there”—she jutted her chin—“they’ll think she made it all up.”

  “Yeah, but…” Henrik stalled. What could he say? If he danced with her in the open, he’d risk exposing himself to her Nanny and whatever guards watched this little girly gathering. But if he said no, the caterwauling of a spoiled little giantess would give away our location for sure. “Okay. How about this? You want to call your friends over here, and they can watch us dance? See, I have to stay here, under the trees. Human princes are sensitive to heat, and those two suns of yours would make me burn.”

  The girls’ eyes widened. “Burn? No!” Sabby cried.

  “To a crisp,” he embellished, sensing a loophole. “I’d fry right up and disappear if I stepped out there. And then I wouldn’t get to dance with you on your birthday.” Henrik molded his face into a mask of sorrow. Tullah’s bottom lip quivered.

  “I don’t want you to die,” she said sadly.

  “Me neither,” Sabby chimed in.

  “Well that is very generous of you.” Henrik winked at the girls, and they giggled. “So go get your friends. I’ll wait right here.”

  Tullah tapped her foot. “How do I know you won’t disappear?”

  She was good. Henrik’s body language practically screamed the minute you walk away I’m out of here. He was seriously off his game this afternoon.

  Henrik crouched down so he was at her eye level. “Because a prince never breaks his word.”

  A small V formed between Tullah’s eyebrows. “Nuh-uh. Sabby, you stay here and make sure he doesn’t run away. I’ll go get the girls.”

  “’Kay.” Sabby scooted closer to Henrik. Her tiny purple hand reached up to hold his calloused peach one, and she appraised him through mud-brown eyes. “Don’t move.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Henrik gave her a charming smile. When she turned to
watch her friend’s progress across the field, he chanced a glance at the bush where I was hidden. Help, he mouthed.

  I raised my shoulders, palms to the sky. There really wasn’t much I could do without exposing my position to the tiny giant. We could always make a run for it—if we were fast enough, only the two younglings would know we’d ever been there in the first place. All things considered, that seemed like the best option. I pulled back the branches, preparing to bolt, but stopped when I saw Henrik shake his head.

  “Got ’em!” Tullah’s tiny voice sounded much closer than I’d expected. Had she really made it to the castle wall and back already? Maybe she wasn’t full giant. She moved too quickly for her kind.

  “Ooh!” A chorus of little girls squealed in delight as they gathered around Henrik. I slunk back into the bush, careful not to make a noise as the party guests circled their “prince.”

  “He’s so handsome!”

  “I’ll bet he has a beautiful princess back home.”

  “How come you always get the best presents?”

  The girls’ enthusiasm bubbled to a fevered pitch, and Henrik held up his hands. “Ladies,” he declared, his voice halting the percolating conversations. “I am Prince Henrik of, eh, Midgard, and I have been sent to honor the birthday girl with a dance, at the request of… of… what’s your daddy’s name, sweetheart?”

  “Surtr,” Tullah said proudly.

  The blood drained from my face. Since the girls were hanging around the castle, I’d figured they belonged to someone important. But I’d hoped Tullah was a senator’s daughter, or maybe a high-ranking military officer’s kid. Skit. This day seriously sucks. Tullah’s dad, Surtr, was the king of the fire giants. He loathed Asgardians more than any leader before him, and he’d launched more than one hundred direct attacks on our realm just during my lifetime. Surtr was the last creature we wanted alerted to our presence. We were supposed to drop in on Muspelheim undetected, and now Henrik had an audience with the realm’s littlest princess.