The Complete Fenris Series

by Samantha MacLeod

  I held my breath. Fenris’s smile flashed in my memories. How would I react if a woman asked the same thing of me? A night with my husband? His seed planted between someone else’s thighs as crude payment for her assistance?

  Loki wiped his hand across his face. “I can’t. Damn it, Sigyn. I can’t.”

  She reached for him and let her fingers linger on his hand. “Why not?”

  “Because, it’s... It’s just fucking wrong, that’s why. It’s so fucking wrong on so many fucking levels.” Loki sighed and tilted his head toward the ceiling. “I can’t do that to you. Shit, I can’t do that to the poor kid. Look at how much she fucked up Hel and Fenris. Her ambition, her expectations, they’re like... they’re like poison.”

  “Sol,” Sigyn said gently, “did Fenris seem like he was poisoned?”

  The few bites of fresh bread I’d taken rolled over themselves in my gut. “What?”

  But Sigyn and Loki were both staring at me now, their faces open and waiting.

  “Fenris,” I said, slowly. “He did say he hated living in Angrboða’s castle. And he has nightmares almost every night.”

  Sigyn’s eyes widened. Loki’s face contorted painfully.

  “But—”

  I struggled with the words. Memories surged forward so powerfully they stopped my voice. Fenris smiling as he threw a fistful of snow into my chest. Fenris laughing with Týr, or kissing me in the slow, soft hours just before sleep. Fenris holding one tiny, delicate snowdrop flower in his cupped hands.

  “He’s not unhappy,” I said. “He’s... joyful, I think. Most of the time. He’s funny, and he’s caring, and he notices things. He noticed a single snowdrop flower, even in his wolf form. And he’s, he’s so gentle—”

  My voice cracked. The dark ocean of fear and loneliness swelled inside me, closing around my heart. I felt like I could still hear Fenris screaming inside the malevolent glimmer of Gleipnir.

  Had I truly lost that laughing smile, those brilliant, pale eyes? Could I even survive a life that didn’t include Fenris?

  “Thank you,” Sigyn said. “It sounds like Fenris had an unhappy start to life. But he survived. He even managed to build his own life, to carve some happiness out of what began as a solitary existence in the Ironwood.”

  “Sigyn—” Loki began.

  “You could be a part of the child’s life,” she said, before Loki could finish his sentence. “Both of us could.”

  Loki shook his head. “I can’t.”

  Sigyn leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Loki’s. “Do what you need to do to rescue your son,” she whispered. “I love you. Nothing will change that.”

  I tried not to let my surprise show. That seemed like a particularly strange thing to say under the circumstances. Loki groaned and fell forward, his head in his hands. For a long time, he shook his head, his face hidden behind his hands, while Sigyn cleared the bread, jam, and butter from the table. The few bites I’d taken seemed to kick at the inside of my stomach. I pressed my hand against my abdomen, just below my navel. The kick came again.

  “Oh!” I cried.

  Both Loki and Sigyn turned to me, but I could barely see their faces through the sudden veil of tears that filled my eyes.

  “Oh, stars! It’s the baby! I can feel the baby!”

  I pushed back from the table and came to my feet, both hands against the thick fabric of my dress. Sigyn cried with joy and threw her arms around me. Pressed against the warmth of Sigyn’s body, the thrum and kick of the new life inside me was even more pronounced. A strange, hiccuping sob slipped from between my lips.

  Sigyn pulled back, beaming. “Somehow it’s all so much more real once you feel the babe, isn’t it?”

  “It’s...it’s...”

  Yes. Yes, by the stars. It was all real now. I stared at the room before me as though I’d never seen it before. It felt like the entire world had just been made new, from the last gleaming rays of sun dancing across the far wall, to the hearth with wood heaped high for the fire, to the table where we’d just eaten.

  Loki still sat at that table, and I turned to him, my heart overflowing with mute joy and astonishment. But the expression on his face was dark and wild, as though he were staring at Lake Amsvartnir, at my husband in chains. And he saw no escape.

  The tears pushed their way out, crawling up my throat, forcing hot tracks down my cheeks. Sigyn pulled me back into her arms, and I sobbed as night fell around us.

  THE MONSTER FREED: CHAPTER SIX

  “So. What are we going to do with you?”

  I ignored the question and focused instead on the steam swirling up from the mug wrapped in my hands. Sigyn had held me for what felt like hours as I sobbed until my voice grew hoarse and the front of my dress was soaked with tears. Then, somehow, I found myself wrapped in a dark fur, sitting on a bench in front of the fire, and holding a mug of tea while Loki and Sigyn sat at the table, talking in low whispers. They seemed to have finished their conversation several minutes ago, because Loki had moved to the foot of the bench to stare at me. And to ask what to do with me.

  “I don’t...” My voice cracked. I took a long, slow sip of the tea.

  “You’re welcome to stay here,” Sigyn said.

  She’d come over to join us, standing with her hands on her husband’s shoulders. That small gesture, the connection between husband and wife, made the gaping hole in my chest yawn with pain.

  “If you want,” Loki said. “But you know what that means, don’t you?”

  I swallowed hard. “No going outside.”

  Loki nodded. “I’d hate it. And I have somewhere else for you, if you’d prefer.”

  “Midgard.” The word hurt my throat.

  “That’s right. Midgard. It’s quite comfortable.”

  Sigyn’s hand tightened on Loki’s shoulder, and my chest ached with a pain so sharp and strong it took my breath away.

  “Midgard,” I repeated. “Take me there. I’ll go.”

  If I stayed here, watching them, I was suddenly certain the pain of Fenris’s absence would kill me.

  Loki nodded again. His face was as blank and passive as it had been when we left Angrboða’s castle. He came to his feet and reached his outstretched hand toward me. Sigyn kissed his cheek.

  “Any messages for Midgard?” Loki asked his wife.

  Sigyn shook her head, then took his arm. “No. I’ll tell him myself.”

  Loki’s blank expression vanished before a wicked smile. “Oh? You’re joining us, then?”

  “My dear, you don’t get to have all the fun,” Sigyn said, raising a delicate eyebrow.

  Loki kissed the top of her head, then turned to me. I took his hand, feeling as wrung out and exhausted as the ragged dress Brunhild had pulled over my body in Nøkkyn’s castle. It felt like all the color had drained from the world, leaving behind only ashes and dust. When Loki grabbed my wrist and the room dissolved around us, the only feeling left in my heart was a dull sort of helplessness.

  And then it was hot. Very hot. My eyes burned under a sweltering sun. I gasped, sucking in air that felt like the inside of an oven.

  “Múspell!” I cried. It was the only place I could imagine that would be so miserably hot.

  “Not quite,” Loki said from beside me.

  The landscape slowly swam into focus. A row of thin, narrow trees paraded in a straight line beside us, casting weak shadows along a dusty road. Beyond the trees, the rolling hills were covered with vertical lines of...something. I was strangely reminded of the books in Nøkkyn’s study, with their irregular black print marching across the page.

  “What are those?” I asked. My throat already felt dry from the heat.

  “Grapes,” Loki answered. “For wine.”

  I wiped my eyes. A shimmer of dust seemed to hang in the air above the road, making the distant hills waver as if they were underwater.

  “And it’s not Múspell,” Loki continued, sounding amused. “It’s Midgard in the summertime. A bit warmer than the I
ronwood, I’d grant.”

  A bit? My skin felt like it was already sizzling under the white-hot sun.

  “Do people actually live here?” I asked.

  Loki chuckled. “I’ll show you.”

  He pulled me into the shade. The three of us turned off the larger road and down a spur that was mercifully lined with the strange, narrow trees. They offered scant protection from the apocalyptically hot sun, but it was better than nothing. A long, low building lay at the end of this road with cream colored walls and a red roof that shimmered in the heat. As we drew closer, I heard the music of running water, although the landscape surrounding us seemed so dry I could hardly imagine how the trees and grapevines survived.

  “My dear,” Sigyn said from behind me. “We really shouldn’t arrive like this.”

  Loki grinned at her. A dog began to bark, and voices erupted from inside the building. Three men in strange outfits, almost dresses, poured out of the low building with spears in their hands. I froze. Before I could stop myself, I’d grabbed Loki’s hand again.

  Something snorted from behind us. Something big. I yelped as Loki’s grip tightened around my hand.

  “It’s just for show,” he whispered.

  Slowly, I turned around. Behind us stood a row of horses with clouds of flies buzzing around their flopping ears. They were hitched the the largest wooden carriage I’d ever seen. A bored-looking, thin man stood at the front of the covered carriage watching the horses with disinterest.

  I brought my hands to my eyes and pressed until white spots danced across my vision. When I pulled my hands away, the horses were still there. One of them snorted loudly; another stamped his hooves against the stones of the road beneath us. I could even smell their salty, rich animal aroma.

  But, that was impossible. There had been no horses a second earlier.

  One of the men who’d come running out of the building barked at us. I jumped. He frowned as he addressed us, but his spear rested on the ground instead of pointing directly at our necks. Loki responded with a complicated string of sounds I eventually realized must be another language. The guard with the spear turned to me with wide eyes, then laughed out loud.

  “What?” I whispered.

  Loki ignored me and continued speaking to the man with the spear. A moment later, the guard turned and called something toward the house. His two companions vanished into the white building, their strange dress-like outfits flapping behind them. Barks and howls echoed from the house.

  And then the largest man I’d ever seen came through the door. He was so tall his dark, curly hair almost brushed the red tiles of the roof. He had a black, closely trimmed beard, and his long dress was decorated with a single purple stripe.

  “Loki!” he bellowed.

  Just like that, the enormous man ran out the door, followed by a cloud of jumping, yelping, frantic hounds. A moment later he’d all but buried Loki in his embrace.

  “Stars, it’s good to see you,” the enormous man growled.

  The man pulled back and gestured to the massive carriage behind us. “Who are you hiding in there, my friend? Or is it a surprise?”

  Without waiting for an answer, the man walked straight to the carriage. Its wooden doors were pulled shut, but the man tilted his head to the side anyway as if he were examining a particularly delectable meal.

  “Thor? Is that you?” he said.

  A window slid open, and Sigyn leaned out. “Not Thor,” she called. “But I hope I’m not too much of a disappointment.”

  The man roared a laugh that seemed to shake the very stones paving the road. “Sigyn, by the stars! It’s been a long time.”

  The door to the carriage flew open, and Sigyn leapt down. The man swept her into an embrace while Loki glanced up at the pale blue sky and its blazing white sun.

  “Can we talk inside?” Loki asked.

  “Ravens, right?” the man asked gravely.

  Loki nodded. “You haven’t seen any?”

  “I haven’t seen those two,” the man answered under his breath. “And, trust me, I’d know them anywhere.”

  The man turned to the guards and barked a few words in that strange, torturous language. A tall, handsome young man came forward and pulled the horses past us. The carriage made a horrible racket as it crashed over the stones, but I seemed to be the only one flinching at the noise.

  THE INSIDE OF THE LOW, red roofed house was blessedly cool. A young woman with dark eyes brought me a glass of water as soon as we stepped across the threshold. Loki and Sigyn and I followed the bear of a man through a series of broad, shadowed hallways until we emerged into an enclosed garden so beautiful my breath caught in my throat.

  It was surrounded on all four sides by overhanging porches, and shaded by several large trees whose branches fluttered gently as they filtered out the vicious sun. In the center of the garden, a series of enormous stone bowls carved with delicate leaves and vines had been stacked, one above the other, on a central pole.

  They were filled with water. As I watched, water gurgled softly from the top bowl and splashed to the second, then the third, then the largest and final basin. The music of gently running water filled the little garden, accentuating the whispers of birdsong and the occasional, harsh trill of an insect.

  How was such a thing possible? Had this entire house been built over a spring that was somehow tame enough to flow upward and fill these carved bowls? Before I could stop myself, I crossed the thick grass of the garden and let my fingers trace the cool, damp stone of the lowest basin.

  “She likes the fountain,” the man said.

  I turned toward his voice. He was sitting with Loki and Sigyn on the low benches clustered in the shade of one of the trees, a pitcher of water between them. Thin, round slices of something bright yellow drifted lazily through the water in the pitcher.

  “Pretty girl,” the man continued. “She’s, what? Another one of your little projects?”

  “Not exactly,” Loki said. “And she can understand you.”

  The man’s eyes widened with sudden interest. “Is that so?”

  “I... Yes,” I stammered.

  “She’s my daughter-in-law,” Loki said as he placed his glass down on the table next to the pitcher. A pale green leaf drifted down in front of him as he spoke.

  “Ah. Apologies, then, my lady.” He touched his forehead as he bowed to me.

  “Accepted,” I said, reflexively. “Please, sir. How does this...fountain work? How have you bridled a spring?”

  The man let out a laugh so loud birds flew from the trees in the garden. “Oh, bless me! You’re from the Ironwood, aren’t you?”

  I frowned. Of course I was from the Ironwood. The man was on his feet before I could respond.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “You’ve no idea how nice it is to hear that accent again. I’m Thrym.”

  “Thrym?” I repeated.

  The name was distantly familiar, like the echo of a childhood memory. An image swam up through the layers of heat and exhaustion, through my numb shock at the sudden presence of a full carriage and a half dozen horses and the gritty pain of the loss I’d suffered on the dark island in Lake Amsvartnir. Fenris, sitting on the bed in Asgard, telling me he’d broken his tutor’s arm because he was tired of being beaten when he couldn’t remember the name of the general who betrayed Skaði.

  “Thrym!” I gasped.

  The memory rushed back. Thrym the Traitor, they called him. In the wintertime, when snow lay piled as high as the roof around our cabin, Da told us stories of the ancient battles. We’d take turns playing Skaði and Óðinn, cursing Thrym the Traitor, until the games grew tiresome and we’d beg for stories about another war, another adventure.

  “You’re still alive?” I said, before I could stop myself.

  Thrym smiled. “Quite. All thanks to your father-in-law. Now, you’re Vali’s wife? Or has Nari changed his mind about girls?”

  Vali’s broad smile, and the thick muscles of his bare chest, flashed through
my mind. My cheeks burned.

  “Fenris,” Loki said. “She married Fenris.”

  Thrym exhaled in a rush. “Ah. So, you’re the one who brought down King Nøkkyn and started the war.”

  “I— We didn’t mean to,” I stammered.

  “Nøkkyn was an ass,” Thrym said grimly. “His fate was set.”

  A breeze gusted through the tops of the trees, carrying an unfamiliar, sweet scent. Another pale leaf drifted through the air and came to land in the large basin of Thrym’s fountain. He reached in and scooped it out, setting it delicately on the grass between us.

  “At any rate,” Thrym said, seeming to pull himself back into the conversation with some effort, “what are you doing here?”

  Loki laughed behind him. “That, my friend, is a very long story.”

  THE MONSTER FREED: CHAPTER SEVEN

  “So,” Loki was finishing, “I thought, if you’re willing, she could pose as your niece. You are going to need an heir at some point, no?”

  Thrym laughed. We were still in the garden, although the heat of the day had faded as the blazing sun finally fell toward the hills and evening spread its soft blanket over the treetops. Silent servants had brought the four of us so many plates of food I’d lost count. And then the wine.

  I was too afraid of repeating my mistake with mead in the Ironwood to have more than a few sips of the wine, but Sigyn, Loki, and Thrym had enjoyed glass after glass. A parade of empty bottles now lay on the grass around us. Who even knew the Nine Realms contained that many different kinds of wine?

  “An heir?” Thrym echoed. “How did you know I’d have trouble with that one?”

  He had a long, elegant bottle in his massive hand, and one arm draped over the back of his low couch. On the bench opposite him, Sigyn was nestled in Loki’s lap. Thrym watched the two of them with a strange mixture of warmth and hunger.

  “And do you still have that cave?” Loki asked.