TheElskerSagaBoxedSetIBOOKSdec2014

by ST Bende

  I shoved my hand through my hair with annoyance. It always came back to this. “That’s what I keep telling you. I don’t need to be constantly looked after. I took care of her myself.”

  “This time. But what if she’d been in a darker place? You do not understand what Skadi is capable of.” Ull stared out the window.

  “That’s on you—you never told me about her. I can’t protect myself from dangers I don’t know are out there.” Or from an irate deity with a personality that could tick off the Pope.

  “I do not want you to protect yourself. Inga, Gunnar and I are much stronger than you, at least for now. We can take far better care of you.”

  “I get that. But at some point in this relationship you are going to have to start trusting me.” We stared at each other for a long time. I was seriously frustrated.

  Ull reached for my hand. “I know you are upset. I am sorry I was not upfront with you.”

  “You have to start trusting me,” I pleaded for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “I know,” Ull whispered. “But it scares me. If anything ever were to happen to you…”

  “I get it. I do,” I conceded. “But this marriage is never going to work if you don’t let me share all of your world—the good and the bad.”

  “All right. I will.” Ull drew a breath. “Please know that I have every confidence in you. At the same time, I have no confidence in the worlds around you. There is nothing you cannot accomplish once you set your stubborn little mind to it, and nobody knows that better than me. But you have to understand that what you see as overbearing, I see as protecting you. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You are my reason for living.”

  “I know. And you’re mine.” I cupped his cheek in my hand. “And so long as you start being honest with me,” I stressed the last words, “we are going to be just fine.”

  “I know we are.” Ull leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on my neck. I nestled my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. It had been a long week.

  “You have enough pens?” Ull stared at my desk. It was the day of our Mythology final, and we were waiting on Professor Carnicke’s word to begin.

  “You can never be too prepared.” I snuck a glance at Ull’s desk. It was empty, except for his exam notebook and a single writing instrument.

  “But seven pens? Seriously, Kristia. Five pens might give out on you, but surely not six.”

  There was barely time to give Ull my most irritated glare before Professor Carnicke stepped up to the podium. “And, begin,” she announced. She clicked the overhead projector to on, bringing our final exam topic to the white screen.

  Citing references from myths of each culture we studied this year, what themes most resonate with today’s society? Which, if any, are obsolete?

  I whipped the notebook open and clicked pen number one.

  Themes. Common themes. Creation, naturally, played a part in each culture’s mythology. Who we were and where we’d come from was a red-letter question even thousands of years ago.

  The afterlife was big too. Every society had wanted reassurance that there was more to our existence than the mortal realm. My teeth grazed the tip of my pen. Those were too obvious. At least half my classmates would hit on those themes, and even if I dropped bits from the Greek, Indian, Egyptian, Celtic and Norse lessons we’d had, my essay would still get lost in the crowd. I needed something original—something that would make me stand out from the hundred other students. Something Professor Carnicke had never seen before…

  The seat next to me squeaked as Ull shifted his considerable form. He wrote lazily in his booklet, seemingly unconcerned with crafting an earth-shattering, original essay. Meanwhile, I was so obsessed with making top marks in my classes that I was a knotted mess of barely-brushed hair and yesterday’s sweatpants. My fingers were cramped so tightly around pen number one that my knuckles locked up. Shifting the pen to my mouth, I realized my lower lip was practically raw from my worrying it. I also realized the pen was clicking against my teeth. Apparently the three energy drinks I’d downed after my all-nighter had made me jittery. Next to me, Ull drew a calm breath and continued writing. Of course he could be relaxed—thanks to his blind faith in those ridiculous prophecies, he knew exactly how the rest of his existence was going to unfold. He didn’t have to worry about impressing professors or acing exams, or what he was going to do when he graduated. Besides worrying about Ragnarok, he never questioned where his life was going or what was coming next. He didn’t have to—he had Norns to do that for him.

  Without warning, the exam room disappeared. Now, I was in a small wooded grove. Ferns and ivy laced the ground surrounding a small pond, with a positively massive tree rising from the other side of the water. Three tiny women moved toward the tree, each clad in a filmy ivory gown. On closer inspection, I could see they were pouring water on the tree’s roots.

  Yggdrasil. The world tree. This must be the home of The Three Sisters. Which made those three women… The Fates.

  One of the women reached into the air. Sunlight danced off her deep burgundy hair as she moved, flecks of crimson reflecting in the pond’s still surface. A piece of parchment appeared in her fingers, and she pulled it to her. She unrolled the scroll, and stared at the page. Her sisters continued to bring water to the tree, one bucket at a time.

  The woman holding the pail lifted her eyes. “What does it say, Skuld?”

  “I… I don’t know.” Skuld shook her head. “The page is turning blank.”

  “Blank?” Her sisters ran to her side. They stared at the parchment as if it were infected. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Something is erasing the prophecy.” Skuld held the paper to the sky. Sunlight filtered down through Yggdrasil’s leaves, bathing the sisters in a mottled glow.

  “This has never happened before,” one of the women whispered. Her strawberry hair tumbled at her shoulders.

  The third sister wrung her hands together. “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Skuld twirled the parchment between her fingertips. “But what if it’s not just this prophecy? What if they all disappear?” She clutched her throat. “What are we going to do if we can no longer see what is coming?”

  The women stared at each other in horror as I was sucked out of the vision, through the forest, and back to the brightly-lit examination room.

  The beauty of the vision hit me like a runaway freighter with busted breaks, and my fingers relaxed their death-grip on the pen. The prophecies were changing. I was changing. The dark end the Sisters had predicted for Asgard wasn’t set in stone anymore. Despite their all-knowing powers, they hadn’t seen me coming years ago, and they couldn’t see what I was going to do now. The truth was, nobody could ever really know exactly how the future would unfold. And more importantly, there was no reason to know. Ull had shut himself off for who-knows how many years because some stupid prophecy told him he was fated to die at Ragnarok. But I was proof that everything could change. Here I was, normal old Kristia Tostenson from Nehalem, and out of nowhere it became my job to save the realms from imminent destruction. That hadn’t been The Fates’ plan for me, and yet here I was. My long ago words came flying back at me.

  Sometimes finding your destiny means doing the opposite of what The Fates have in store.

  Without another glance at the magnificent deity coolly scribbling beside me, and without so much as a roman numeral in an outline, I started to write. Words flowed to paper in an unbroken stream, my subconscious purging months of frustration. In a lot of ways, it was nice to know what was coming. At least in Asgard it created order, and allowed their society to function with minimal internal disturbance. But it came with a cost—look at the agony knowing his future had caused Ull. And what good was knowledge if it stopped you from living?

  My pen pressed across the notebook so hard I was afraid it might tear the paper. Easing my grip, I continued to write, fleshing out my argument with references from the Celtic and Egypti
an myths, and touching on the significance of the Oracle at Delphi. When I circled back to the Norse Norns, I gripped my pen so tightly it snapped in two. The top half landed on Ull’s notebook. He picked it up with a surprised smirk, and set it gently to the side.

  “Superhuman strength kicked in a little early, ja? Guess you did need all those extras.”

  “Shh.” I picked up pen number two. It got me through the rest of the hour, and when Professor Carnicke called time I set it down with a flourish. It might not have been the most eloquent exam submitted that day, but it was sure to be the most passionate… and the most personal.

  “Well, that was fun.” Ull clasped his hands together, raising his arms high above his head. The thin fabric of his cashmere sweater strained against his biceps, earning more than one appreciative stare from the sea of girls seated around him.

  They could stare all they wanted. Next week he’d be all mine.

  The thought left a warm buzz in the pit of my belly. The three energy drinks zeroed in on the spot, sending a chorus of tap dancing crickets across my lower abdomen. They hoofed out a rhythm to the delicious thought. All mine, all mine, all mine.

  “And now we can celebrate.” Ull followed me out of the row, placing his hand on the small of my back as he guided me out of the classroom. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks.” I grinned. “Finishing the last exam of my sophomore year—not a bad way to celebrate.”

  “I have a better one. Though you probably need to crash after your all-nighter.”

  “That obvious, huh?” I smoothed my messy ponytail.

  “Not at all.” Ull squeezed the side of my hip as we walked. The familiar gesture redirected what little blood was left in my head to somewhere considerably more agitating. “It is two o’clock now. Let me walk you home. You can rest for a few hours while I tend to some arrangements, then I will send Gunnar to pick you up at six. We can have a proper celebration then.”

  “Send Gunnar? Why don’t I just meet you at your place? What’s going on?”

  “That, my darling, is highly-classified intel. You would not want to ruin your birthday surprise.”

  I would, actually. Surprises tended to freak me out. “Will you at least tell me what to wear?”

  “Victoria knows. Do as she tells you.” Ull steered me in the direction of my flat as I chewed on this nugget.

  “So I can just drag it out of Victoria then?”

  “Mortals…” Ull chuckled. “Always have been the most impatient creatures. Just do what Victoria says and get ready for the birthday night of your life.”

  The crickets took a bow and began a frenzied encore to their new theme song. Night of your life, night of your life.

  “You know there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep after that comment,” I complained.

  “You will sleep. There is an all-nighter and an energy-drink crash on sleep’s side.” Ull leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Besides, you want to be well rested for what I have planned.”

  Thousands of nerve endings snapped to military attention. My head swam with visions of what Ull might have planned. By the time we entered the courtyard of the student houses, I was an even bigger bundle of nerves than I’d been before our Mythology exam. Hot bejeebus, that god could push my buttons.

  “Get some sleep, Kristia.” Ull kissed me softly. He stroked my cheek with the back of one finger, then backed slowly toward the fountain. “Gunnar will be here in four hours.”

  “’Kay,” I called feebly after him. When he rounded the corner, I shoved my key in the lock and stumbled into the flat. Suddenly, four hours seemed like forever.

  Chapter Nine

  “HOLY MOTHER, KRISTIA. YOU look hot.”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised.” I elbowed Gunnar in the ribs as I closed my front door. My four-inch heels wobbled precariously on the cobblestone path, hindered, no doubt, by the absolutely enormous gown Victoria had put me in. It was spectacular—pale pink lace, layers of crinoline supporting the full skirt, and a strapless neckline that more than showed off some artfully enhanced… assets. I wasn’t sure what boggled me more—that Victoria had whipped up an Oscar-worthy gown on two weeks’ notice, or that she expected me to be able to walk in the sky high heels she’d paired it with.

  “Hold my arm.” Gunnar watched me stumble across the stones with barely contained glee. “He’ll kill me if I have to take you to the emergency room instead of the castle.”

  ‘The castle? We’re going to a castle?” My face lit up. What a great birthday. A date at a castle!

  “Dritt. That was supposed to be a secret. Well, whatever. I can still make this night a surprise.” Gunnar helped me into his Jeep. He had to—it was one of those ten feet tall things, with headlights on top. Where he went off-roading in urban Wales was beyond me, but this was clearly not a vehicle meant for surface streets.

  Or for ball gowns.

  After a fairly awkward struggle, I was situated in the truck. Gunnar closed the door behind me and climbed into the driver’s side. Turning, he rooted through the messy backseat. “Gym shoes. Jump-rope. Textbook—don’t need that anymore. Ah, there it is.”

  “A tie? That’s going to look a little weird with your hoodie, don’t you think?”

  “Have a little faith, Kristia. Close your eyes.”

  I did as instructed, and I felt the silky fabric cover my brow. “What are you doing?”

  “Hold still.” Gunnar pushed the tie over my eyes and tugged, binding it tightly in place. “Perfect. Now you won’t know which castle we’re going to.”

  “You could have just told me not to tell Ull you squealed.” I pointed out.

  “Yeah. But this is more fun.” Gunnar laughed as he threw the Jeep into gear. I felt the hum of the engine as we drove down the street.

  “What are you and Inga doing this summer?” I asked. It felt rude to talk without looking at him, but Gunnar’s tie made that kind of difficult.

  “Besides attending the wedding of the millennium?” From under my blindfold, I imagined him shooting me that enormous smile, the one that made his dimple pop out. “We’re going to do some scuba diving off the Maldives. There’s some kind of migration going on right now that’s supposed to be out of this world.”

  “You guys are so brave. I could never go scuba diving.”

  “Why not? It rocks.”

  “I don’t believe in stepping down a rung on the food chain.”

  “Meaning?” Gunnar braked so hard my head nearly hit the window. “Sorry. Rogue cat.”

  “Meaning I’m pathologically afraid of sharks. Also sting rays. And sunfish.”

  Gunnar’s laugh filled the car. “You’re willing to go through whatever they’re going to do to you to turn you immortal, but you’re afraid of a couple of fish?”

  “Sharks. And sting rays. And maybe also fish.”

  “You are something else.” The laughter ebbed. “Ull’s gonna have his hands full with you.”

  “Says the guy who wants to go diving with sharks.”

  “You’ll come around.” Gunnar spoke confidently. “Once you realize sharks can’t hurt you, you’ll be begging us to go on holiday. Just wait.”

  “You’re an adrenaline addict.” It wasn’t a question. If there was one thing I’d learned during the past nine months, it was that Gunnar felt most alive when he was hurtling toward what the rest of us would see as certain death. He and Inga were perfect for each other.

  “Y.O.L.O., you know?”

  “Yeah, but the ‘once’ you only live is forever.”

  “Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.” Gunnar seemed to steer to the side as the sound of a siren neared. “Uh-oh, must be an accident. I’ll pull over.”

  The siren got louder, and by the time Gunnar stopped the car it was blaring so intently I figured it must have been directly behind us.

  “What’s going on?” I craned my neck, even though the tie blocked my vision. “Is there an accident?”

  “Get out of t
he car and keep your hands where I can see them!” The angry voice was undermined by the perpetually polite Welsh accent. It came from just outside the Jeep—whatever was happening, it was close.

  “Aw, dritt,” Gunnar muttered.

  “Ooh, who’s in trouble?” I strained against the blindfold. “Can I take this thing off? I can’t see.”

  “Out of the car, now!”

  I heard the car door open and I wondered if Gunnar was getting out of the car to help the officers. Horns honked around us, heightening the air of confusion. “Gunnar?”

  “Sorry, Kristia. This will only take a minute.” Gunnar sounded further away, now he was outside of the Jeep. Something smacked against the hood and I felt the car shake.

  Enough with Ull’s surprise. The blindfold was coming off.

  Before I could tear the tie from my eyes, someone opened my door. Thick arms reached across to unbuckle my seatbelt, and I was physically removed from the truck. My feet kicked against my captor’s hold, but he cradled me tightly against his chest. “It’s all right, miss. You’re safe now.”

  Safe from what?

  “Let go of me!” My voice sounded shrill. I pounded against a chest that felt like it was made of lead until my feet touched the pavement. Immediately I ripped the blindfold from my eyes and glared. A uniformed man with a chest like a boulder stared back at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Saving your life, miss. Did he hurt you?”

  “Did who hurt me?” I stared at my misguided savior, perplexed. He was a clean-cut man in his late twenties with dark hair and grey eyes. His police uniform looked freshly pressed, and he carried a baton tucked into his waistband.

  “The perp, miss. Did he hurt you before he abducted you?”

  “Abducted me? What are you talking about?” I followed the officer’s stare to the front of the Jeep, where an officer had Gunnar’s face pressed against the hood. His hands were behind his back in handcuffs, and he was looking at me with barely contained amusement. My fingers stroked the silk tie lying against the bodice of my gown.