The Complete Fenris Series

by Samantha MacLeod

  No one spoke. There was another round of shuffling, the creak of the door opening, and the soft beating of heavy wings. Firelight flickered and danced down the hallway, sending shadows swirling in its wake.

  “That’s it?” Loki whispered. “No other accusations?”

  “Fuck you,” Óðinn sighed. More shuffling. “Loki. Sigyn. What I did with Fenris, I did—”

  “To keep us all safe,” Loki rasped. “Yes. I’ve heard.”

  Óðinn snorted. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Loki hissed. “Maybe next time one of your sons will pose the threat to Asgard’s safety. Maybe...Baldr?”

  Something crashed to the floor. Sigyn yelped. I jumped; Fenris groaned as my fingers pulled away from his hand.

  “Shhhh!” I whispered frantically as I grabbed Fenris’s hand, pressing our palms together.

  “If you ever threaten my son again—” Óðinn growled.

  “You’ll what? Chain me up?” Loki whispered through his broken voice.

  “Stop! Please, both of you. Stop!” Sigyn cried.

  Feet scuffed across the floor.

  “Óðinn, please,” Sigyn said. “We’ve just been through quite a lot. If Loki sought comfort with Angrboða, surely that’s none of your concern. Surely that’s my business?”

  Silence. My heart thudded against my chest; Fenris’s breath hissed in and out, in and out, mimicking the distant crash of waves against the shore. The kitchen door creaked open again.

  “Sigyn,” Óðinn began, in a voice that sounded almost pleading.

  “Just go,” she replied.

  The sound of footsteps dragged across the floor and over the lintel. A great boom echoed through the hallway, followed by a sigh of relief. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back. My entire body felt shaky, like I’d just been released from a mold. The low murmur of Sigyn’s voice drifted down the hallway, but I couldn’t quite catch her words. Instead, I let my eyes rest on Fenris. A few strands of auburn hair had fallen across his forehead and lips. I reached for them without thinking, brushed them back, and leaned down to kiss his smooth cheek. As I did, the twins kicked violently against the inside of my ribcage.

  “That’s right,” I whispered to them. “Daddy’s here.”

  Fenris’s brow contorted, then smoothed as his breathing once again became deep and rhythmical. I watched him sleep as the gentle light of dawn filled the room until a knock on the doorframe startled me from my revelry.

  “Hungry?” Sigyn asked.

  I turned to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, a tired smile on her lips.

  “I’m sorry about the door,” I stammered.

  Sigyn shrugged like having Óðinn almost discover Loki’s bastard son hiding in her house was nothing. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen, if you’re ready,” she said.

  With that, she turned and vanished back down the hallway. I hesitated, until the twins kicked again and I realized I’d better feed them.

  Sigyn was already seated at the table when I entered the kitchen. The heartfire had burned low, but by now morning light poured through the windows and made the entire room glow. Plates of sausages, bread, and delicate poached eggs adorned the table, alongside two steaming mugs. The delicate scent of blackberry tea intermingled with grease and the spice of sausages, making my mouth ache with hunger.

  I glanced toward the wall and saw Loki on the same bench where he’d been deposited last night, only this time he was sitting against the wall with a steaming mug clenched in his pale fingers. His eyes were closed, and his face looked odd in the full sunlight, as though it was streaked with pale marks. For a moment the shimmering bands of Gleipnir filled my mind. My empty stomach rolled over itself as the memory dug into my consciousness.

  “Please, have a seat,” Sigyn said, gesturing at the chair opposite her.

  I tore my eyes away from Loki and sat. Sigyn heaped a plate full of sausages, bread, and eggs, then set it before me. I ate in silence until the twins kicked in protest.

  “That’s all?” Sigyn asked.

  I glanced at my plate and sighed. It looked like I’d hardly touched anything, but my stomach felt like it was about to burst. “I’ll be hungry again in ten minutes,” I admitted.

  Sigyn’s eyes crinkled as she grinned. “I remember. I felt like I ate constantly when I was pregnant. How’s your back?”

  “Sore,” I said. “Especially at the end of the day.”

  I was about the tell her how Liburnia insisted it was unlucky for me to spend too long standing, or any of the other dozens of nonsensical superstitions she’d taught me as I’d adjusted to life in Thrym’s domus, but the front door suddenly slammed open. Vali stepped into the kitchen. The sunlight made his dark curls shine and his golden eyes sparkle.

  “Good morning,” he said, bending down to kiss the top of Sigyn’s head. He glanced at me. “Ah, you’re still here. Morning.”

  He pulled a chair to the table, sat down, and grinned at me. My body responded with an entirely inappropriate rush of arousal that I tried to hide by becoming suddenly very interested in buttering a slice of bread.

  “Father’s still alive?” Vali asked conversationally around a mouthful of sausage.

  “Still breathing,” Loki rasped from the corner.

  “Good,” Vali said amicably. “And the other one?” His intense golden eyes turned to me again.

  “How was Fenris in the night?” Sigyn asked.

  “Fine,” I said. “Quiet. He’s still asleep.”

  “That should be a good sign,” Sigyn replied, although I noticed the line that appeared between her eyes.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Vali asked. “Are they going to stay here, or—”

  “No,” Loki whispered. “Too dangerous. We’ve got to get them back to Midgard.”

  For the first time since I’d met him on the beach, Vali looked uncomfortable. He dropped his eyes to his empty plate. “I wish I could take them,” he murmured.

  “Get your brother,” Loki said. “Nari can travel in secret.”

  Vali pushed his plate away and stood. He seemed smaller somehow, as though he’d lost something during that brief conversation.

  “Thank you,” Sigyn said as Vali pushed the kitchen door open.

  Vali shrugged, stepped outside, and pulled the door closed behind him. The room felt colder, somehow. I stood, and the plates of food vanished magically from the polished wooden table. As Sigyn brought a second mug of tea to Loki, I tiptoed back down the hallway to the little room with the wall of windows. My heart caught in my throat.

  Fenris sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clenched around his head, rocking softly back and forth.

  THE MONSTER FREED: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Fenris?” I whispered from the doorway.

  He froze. Slowly, he raised his head. His eyes were wide and rimmed with red, but they flashed with recognition as they met mine.

  “Sol.”

  His voice sounded hoarse, as though it had been years since he’d spoken.

  “Am I...dead?” he asked. “Are we both dead?”

  I shook my head. “No. We’re in Asgard.”

  His lips twitched. For a moment it looked like he was trying to remember how to smile. His face wrinkled in concentration, and his lips pulled tight over his teeth.

  “Are we prisoners?” he asked.

  “No.” I took a cautious step toward him. “You’re free.”

  His head shook from side to side as if he didn’t believe my words. “I feel like I’m dead.”

  I swallowed hard. The twins rolled inside me so violently that the fabric of my dress bulged. “Why?”

  “I can’t feel the wolf,” Fenris said. He lowered one of his hands to the bed, where it trembled against the white linen. “I’ve always been able to feel it, ever since that first day in the dungeon. Even in this...this pathetic body, it’s always been there.”

  “Fenris—”

>   He shook his head again and leapt to his feet. His cheeks blazed with color, and his eyes shone in the bright morning light.

  “I can’t fight!” he cried. “I can’t do a stars-damned thing like this!”

  “You don’t need to fight,” I said, struggling to keep my voice calm. “We’re safe.”

  “Safe!” Fenris barked a short, hard laugh. His shoulders trembled, and his long, tangled hair swirled around his body. “There’s no such thing as safe! There’s only strong. Strong enough to... to...”

  He buried his face in his hands and spun away from me. His back shook as he pulled in deep, hitching breaths.

  “Fenris?” I touched his shoulder. His skin was so hot I almost pulled away. “Stars, you’re burning up!”

  I turned to the washbasin, found a pitcher of water, and poured him a glass.

  “Please. Drink something,” I said, offering him the glass.

  His hair spun back and forth as he shook his head. “No. No more drinking. I’m the son of Thiassi. Heir to the...to the...”

  His voice sputtered. I had to force myself to take his arm. His eyes were glassy and unfocused; his body burned against my palm.

  “Have some water. Please,” I whispered.

  I raised the glass to his cracked lips. His mouth opened, and I watched his neck flex as he swallowed. One sip. Two. Three. He turned to me and frowned.

  “I think I’m late,” he said.

  “Late?”

  The furrows in his brow deepened as he turned to face me. “There’s somewhere I’m supposed to be. Mother told me not to be late.”

  I felt as though a great, cold fist had just closed around my ribcage, squeezing the breath from my lungs, draining what hope remained in my heart. In that long moment when Fenris met my eyes but did not recognize me, I saw our entire future stretched out before me in shades of black and gray. I’d bring him back to the domus on Midgard, but he would live forever in the shadows of his past, haunted by ghosts and memories.

  My hand dropped to my stomach and pressed into my skin until one of the twins pressed back, kicking against the sudden pressure. Would I tell them the madman in our domus was their father? Or should I tell them their father died on an island in Lake Amsvartnir?

  “Please. Sit down.” My voice trembled as I spoke. “You’re sick.”

  “But, I—”

  “You’re not late,” I said. “There’s plenty of time.”

  Fenris’s shoulders relaxed, and his eyes sagged closed. His cheeks burned like flames against his pale skin. I led him back to the bed and held the glass to his lips until, slowly, sip by pained sip, he finished all the water. Then I eased him back onto the pillow.

  “Sol?”

  I turned toward the unfamiliar voice. Loki’s son Nari stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his hair as dark as his armor. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  I glanced at Fenris. His eyes were closed above crescents as dark as bruises. His breath was shallow and, as I watched, he moaned softly, as if he were in pain.

  “No,” I whispered, turning back to Nari’s dark form in the doorway. “No. We’re not ready.”

  Nari frowned. For a moment, I was afraid he was going to ignore me, to cast us both out into the Nine Realms despite my protests. Óðinn could stomp through that door at any moment and find the monster he’d thought was chained in Lake Amsvartnir lying in this bed instead. Loki already warned me Óðinn would have no reservations about torturing his wife and sons. Every second Fenris and I spent here was risking their lives. All their lives. Nari’s entire family was in danger because of us. My fist clenched the rumpled sheets beneath me as if I could keep us here if I just held on long enough. Next to me, Fenris thrashed and whimpered in his sleep.

  “Is he all right?” Nari asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  Nari stepped into the room, crouched beside Fenris, then glanced at me. “May I?” he asked.

  I nodded hopelessly, unsure of what exactly Nari meant to do. Was this some sort of magical injury, some damage done by Loki’s spell as he ripped Fenris’s wolf from his body? And if so, could magic heal it?

  Nari reached forward and brushed his fingers across Fenris’s brow. Fenris’s eyelids flickered beneath Nari’s touch.

  “Damn,” Nari whispered.

  My chest clenched. “What is it?”

  “Fever.” Nari turned to me with his dark, serious eyes. “A bad one.”

  “Was it—” I hesitated. “Did Loki’s magic cause it?”

  Nari shrugged. “Probably.”

  My desperation must have shown on my face, because Nari reached for my shoulder and gave me an awkward pat that I took as an attempt at comfort.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Arym had something like this last year.”

  “Arym?”

  Nari’s lip twitched. “My husband.” He stood. “We’ve still got the tea, I think. It helped. I’ll be right back.”

  With that, Nari turned and left the room. I watched him go and wondered that the room should feel so much emptier without him.

  FENRIS SLEPT FOR THREE days.

  Nari returned, as promised, and then he stayed with me far longer than I expected. He held Fenris’s head as I poured warm tea through his chapped and broken lips, conjured snow from nothingness to wrap in soft linens and place on Fenris’s brow, and seemed perfectly content to spend entire days exchanging only a handful of words.

  It suited me. My black mood did not lend itself to idle chatting.

  At night, after the sun set behind the little house and the first stars began to dance beyond the wide glass of the window, Nari vanished and Sigyn appeared with food for me and a bowl of salty broth for Fenris.

  “We have other rooms,” Sigyn told me on my second morning in her house, as I stood by the wide window and waited to see if Fenris would wake. “Would you like to see them?”

  I shook my head. She came to stand next to me, and I saw the dark shadows of exhaustion pressed beneath her eyes. No one had mentioned Loki yesterday, and I hadn’t seen him pacing the halls of their little house. Perhaps Fenris wasn’t the only one suffering in the aftermath of his spell.

  “You should try to sleep,” Sigyn said.

  I’d laughed, and Sigyn had given me a wan, tired smile. Later that day, as Nari handed me a cup of lukewarm tea that stank of pine to hold to Fenris’s lips, Vali dragged a straw mattress into the narrow, little room.

  “The old man could give you an entire room, I know,” Vali said in a cheerfully apologetic tone. “But this is the best I can do.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said.

  I wanted to say more, to thank him for his kindness, to thank them all for the horrible risks they’d taken allowing us into their home. But the memory of another bed, white and filled with feathers, had risen in my chest, and it had taken all my strength not to burst into tears in front of them.

  I had tried to sleep during those three interminable days and nights. The straw-filled mattress was comfortable, the sheets soft, the blankets warm. But my dreams were haunted by screaming. Or, worse, by Fenris’s flushed face, his eyes blank and dark as he ranted about being Thiassi’s heir.

  With a sigh, I pushed the blankets off my chest. Through the window, the sky was the color of lead with a delicate, gray streak against the horizon. Stars danced above the slow, dark undulations of the sea. I closed my eyes, listening for the slow rasp of Fenris’s breathing. It filled the darkness like the steady thrum of the waves against the shore.

  Good. I stood, then pressed my hands to my eyes, trying to vanquish the ghosts of the nightmares that still circled in my skull. My back ached in protest, and my gut rippled as one of the twins turned slowly inside me.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, trying to pull myself back to reality. “We’re safe.”

  “Sol?”

  The voice was so weak, hardly more than a whisper. I turned to the bed. There, in the darkness, I could just make out the gleam of Fenris
’s pale eyes.

  “I’m here,” I answered.

  Gently, I lowered myself to the edge of the bed and reached for his hand. His skin felt clammy and cool. Hope surged inside me, wild and raw. Had the fever finally broken?

  “How do you feel?” I whispered.

  Fenris’s eyes closed, then opened slowly. “Weak.”

  “Let me get you some water.”

  His fingers closed around mine. “Wait.”

  My heart hammered against my chest.

  “I can’t protect you,” Fenris said. His voice sounded like the scrape of stones against glass. “Not like this.”

  “You’re sick,” I said.

  He shook his head against the pillow. “The one thing I promised you. The one thing I said I could offer my wife. Now, it’s gone.”

  “You’ll get better,” I insisted. “Nari said his husband was better in a fortnight. Back to his old self.”

  Fenris laughed at that. It sounded horrible, the screech of a rusty sword against its rotting scabbard. “No. My old self is gone.”

  He pulled his fingers from mine. The bed shifted beneath me as he turned away, his face to the wall.

  “Fenris?”

  His voice was a whisper in the darkness. “You should have left me to die.”

  I reached for his shoulder but stopped just before touching him, my hand hovering in the emptiness above his blanket. The sound of his breathing filled the room again, scratchy and pained. I hesitated for what felt like an eternity, torn between touching him and leaving him to rest. Finally, I pulled my hand back to the swell of my stomach, rubbed the taut skin, and stood to leave.

  The door swung open soundlessly. I stepped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me. A low fire in the kitchen cast long shadows across the wooden floor. I pictured the cozy kitchen with its flickering hearth, and the cup of blackberry tea that would appear when I sat down at the polished wooden table.

  “There was a raven circling the house this evening,” a man’s voice said from the kitchen.

  I froze.

  “A raven?”

  That was Sigyn. I heard a scrape as someone pushed a chair back.

  “I couldn’t tell which one. But I’m pretty sure it was one of his.”