by Ann Gimpel
“Ye’re the only one who’s worried about him,” Ceirrot muttered.
I made myself as tall as I could and stared him down. “Leave. Now. I’m done dancing about like a trained seal. I might not be done permanently, but I’m certainly finished for today.”
“Nidhogg specifically instructed—” Ceirrot began.
“I don’t give a jolly fuck what he instructed. If he’s unhappy about the outcome of his marching orders, he should be here himself.” I paused for emphasis and repeated, “Leave.”
I stared at Ceirrot. He stared back. It got old fast, so I said, “Very well, then, I’ll leave.”
“Where will ye go?” Zelli asked.
If anyone but her had asked, I’d have snapped it was none of their affair where I went or what I did.
She must have sensed my inner turmoil because she said, “Hop on, Dragon Heir. We shall go together.”
“Halt! Ye only had permission for the one flight,” Ceirrot sputtered.
Zelli ignored him. Twisting her head atop her sinuous stalk of a neck she looked meaningfully at the spot on her back where I’d sat once before. I didn’t wait for a second invitation. A small magical assist settled me firmly astride the copper dragon.
“Some of you might consider ensuring Nidhogg knows our boundaries have been breached by those who wish us ill,” Zelli said and spread her wings.
“Ye doona issue orders,” Ceirrot snarled.
“’Twasn’t an order, merely a suggestion.” Zelli bent forward and added, “Naught more to be done here today. The Dragon Heir and I are leaving, and the master sorcerer is gone as well.”
Our transition from ground to air was seamless. As we gained altitude, the same sense of exhilaration and joy raced through me. I tried to talk myself out of my worries about Bjorn. The man was centuries old. He’d been taking care of himself for a long time, but I had a sneaking hunch whatever had happened today was somehow related to my presence in Vanaheim.
“Where are we going?” I asked once we were well clear of Bjorn’s courtyard.
“I was considering that,” she replied. “Perhaps Bifrost is our best starting place. If Bjorn used the bridge recently, I’ll sense his presence.”
I didn’t have any better ideas. Except hunting down Odin. I wasn’t especially keen to do that, but he’d been far more pleasant when he and Nidhogg and Ysien had shown up in Inverlochy Castle than when he’d cornered me in his other role as leader of the Wild Hunt.
“I should steer clear of the bridge,” I said.
“Why is that?”
“Bjorn told me that my Celtic blood would alert someone or other, and they’d kick me off it forthwith.”
“We are not going to ride it anywhere,” she informed me. “I’m merely going to poke my head through one of the many portals and see if he’s been there. Besides, Bifrost shouldn’t reject you. It will detect your dragon half. We have free rein in the Nine Worlds.”
I tried to resurrect when Bjorn had told me to avoid Bifrost. He must have known about my dragon side then. He eventually fessed up and told me he’d sensed that part of my bloodlines the second he laid eyes on me. I gave a mental shrug. Everyone interpreted power differently. For now, I’d stick with the conservative approach.
I wanted to ask Zelli why she’d befriended me, but didn’t. Instead, I settled for, “Will you get in trouble for taking off with me?”
Laughter blatted from her in fire-laced gales. Once she was done chortling, she said, “Millennia have passed since I was a hatchling. No one will rebuke me. I’d be surprised if anyone even mentioned this. Ceirrot likes to throw his weight around. So does Ysien.”
“How about Nidhogg?”
“He is far more judicious about how he employs power.”
That was a relief. Kind of. “Why wasn’t he here today?”
“Because the Celts are arriving in Asgard for an important meeting.”
Crap. I’d planned on crashing that meeting. Bjorn and I hadn’t been invited, but I deserved a seat at the table, being half Celt and all. I made a snorting sound, but it was jerked away by the wind. By now, the others had probably disowned me, given my mother’s fall from grace.
Regardless, I’d show up and find out for myself. Gwydion had actually apologized, told me had he known what a wasteland my childhood was, he’d have intervened. And Arawn had mentioned Dewi would be devastated she hadn’t known about me. Words weren’t important, though. Their actions when we met next would tell me where they truly stood.
We were circling to land in a small area surrounded by towering evergreens. They looked ancient. “Do you know Dewi?” I shouted into the slipstream.
“Aye.”
I waited, but Zelli didn’t add to her affirmation, so I asked, “What’s she like?”
Zelli thumped heavily onto the ground, and I jumped down. What was it about flying that felt like I’d been born atop a dragon’s back? I hustled in front of my new friend, anxious to hear her response.
“She is much like Nidhogg.” Zelli nodded as if agreeing with her own statement.
“Thank you.” I picked my words with care. “But that tells me less than nothing since I don’t know Nidhogg at all.”
“Ye lived with Dewi, did ye not?”
My turn to nod. “Indeed I did, but Ceridwen warned me to steer well clear of her.”
Zelli tilted her head far back on her long neck and blew fire skyward. I was certain the trees around us breathed a sigh of relief the flames weren’t directed at them. After the dragon’s ire had run its course, she glanced down at me and said, “Of course Ceridwen would have told you as much. She dinna wish the dragon goddess to sniff out your secrets.”
“Yeah, I already figured that part out,” I mumbled.
“But what ye really wish to know is if Dewi will accept you, and that I canna answer,” Zelli went on. “There’s never been a Dragon Heir linked to the Celtic pantheon, and the circumstances surrounding your birth willna endear you to your kinsmen.”
I wanted to screech none of it was my fault. Not Ceridwen’s tempers or her ill-advised alliance with my dragon father or breaking Midgard. Yet, if I’d never been born, she wouldn’t have been driven to drastic measures to herd me back to her side. Measures that had failed abysmally.
It’s a funny thing, but when someone treats me like crap forever, I don’t exactly jump up and sing when they snap their fingers my way. Ceridwen’s pronouncement it was past time for me to reclaim my Celtic heritage had fallen on indifferent ears.
“This portal to Bifrost, where is it?” I was done thinking about Ceridwen and sorry I’d asked about Dewi since she’d pointed the conversation back to my sadly broken mother.
“Right here.” Zelli extended her forelegs. Blue-white power arced between them, turning her talons an exotic ruby shade.
The air in front of us took on a glimmering aspect as a gateway formed. Rimmed in fire like many of the dragons’ workings, the moment it opened I heard the bridge’s song. Low, expressive, enticing. Bifrost’s boundaries had been penetrated, and the bridge was intent on luring us onto its rainbow surface. I’d never seen Bifrost, but I’d read about it.
Zelli stalked forward, graceful despite her size, and extended her neck into the portal. The bridge’s song intensified, and I took a step forward before I caught myself and erected a ward. I was used to Midgard, where magic was unusual. Here, it was primary. Unless proven otherwise, everything in Vanaheim had enough to cause trouble for me, and I’d do well to remember it.
Zelli was doing her usual thorough assessment. I respected that facet of her. She took her time, didn’t rush through things. Because I couldn’t resist, I snaked out a thread of magic and opened the place within me that Bjorn slotted into. It was still raw and abraded from how he’d left. He’d never have done such a thing on purpose. He lived for magic. Wielding it with subtlety and grace was important to him.
I’d attempted to explain that to the dragons, but I’d failed. Zelli was the only one w
ho’d believed me. That the others had dismissed me rankled. Maybe I was done with being the entertainment committee for whomever showed up. I’d been looking for an excuse, and now I had one. No one fought side by side with those they didn’t trust.
Dragon magic thickened, turning the air a brilliant array of colors that probably rivaled the bridge. Aware of my warding and of the need to hold myself clear of the bridge, I crept forward a pace. And then one more, hoping for a peek inside. Something about Zelli’s power reassured me. She was a formidable ally. I was lucky to have her in my court.
I forced my feet to remain still. Subtle as it was, her coercion spell had nearly snared me. It wasn’t focused my way. She was dredging every scrap of information she could out of Bifrost, but some of her casting had slopped toward me.
The portal gleamed silver, and the dragon flames bordering it burned brighter. I caught a whiff of brine and then another. Elation surged. Bjorn smelled like the sea, but then so did Odin, and probably all the other Norsemen I had yet to meet.
Zelli bugled. It snapped me back to attention. Was something wrong? Were we about to face an unknown enemy—another Norseman who also carried the scent of an ocean? I culled power from deep within me and balanced it between my outstretched hands.
Fighting while warded is a neat trick. I have to cut at least a small hole in my shrouding to allow magic to escape. I’d rather be quick on my feet and wield power unimpeded.
There it was again. The smell of the sea. This time, I caught a hint of sunbaked clay. Frantic I’d miss something, a tiny window that could bang shut any moment, I searched for Bjorn’s magic, but I couldn’t feel shit through my cloaking. I took a chance and dropped my ward. Most of it, anyway, while I raised my mind voice.
“Bjorn!”
In the space between my indrawn breath and pushing it out, he rocketed into my head. “Rowan!”
Relief so heady I almost lost my footing spilled through me. Zelli yanked her head and neck out of the portal. An instant later, Bjorn leapt through. I forgot all about being proper or dignified, and I launched myself on top of him. He staggered to maintain his balance.
Familiar arms closed around me, and he held me like he had other times during our relatively brief tenure as allies and friends. Warm. Solid. Reassuring. Gripping his face between my hands, I kissed him with abandon. He was here. He was safe. We were together, just as we were meant to be. After a brief hesitation, he was kissing me back. Lust and need shot through my body with shocking urgency. If Zelli hadn’t been standing over us, I’d have driven him to the ground and hiked up my skirts.
My heart wanted to thump out of my chest. It took gargantuan effort not to string kisses down the open neck of his shirt. Despite my unbridled need to jump his bones, I still could not admit to myself he was far more than just a friend and battle companion.
I could accept friends and allies. I wasn’t ready for anything deeper, and I might never be. Reluctantly, I extricated myself from my embarrassing nosedive onto his body. Mine still zinged with sexual heat, but it would recede. Maybe.
Next to us, the portal winked out, and Zelli puffed steam over us.
“Where were you?” the dragon asked without preamble.
I winced. Those should have been the first words out of my mouth. Instead, I’d wasted precious moments indulging myself in the comfort of Bjorn’s arms.
He nodded and squared his shoulders. “I got sucked through a gateway. It took me a while to find my way back.”
“I found a residue of evil from Jotunheim,” Zelli said. “How did you escape?”
Surprise washed over his even features. “Jotunheim, eh? I never got that far. I thwarted the magic that snared me and found my way to Yggdrasil. From there to Asgard, and thence to the bridge.” He stopped to take a measured breath and addressed his next words to me. “The Celts have arrived in Asgard. I plan to be part of their council.”
“So do I.” I nodded crisply.
“We could go there now,” he said. “Or right after we clean up a bit.”
Zelli shook her head and quit puffing steam. “We must go to Jotunheim. Before the trail grows cold. Whoever dragged you through that fissure was intent on mischief, nothing more, or ye wouldna have escaped so easily. But they snuck in beneath our noses, and managed to leave undetected. Such an event must not happen a second time.”
Ash and fire spewed skyward. “I believe today was a test,” she went on. “We failed miserably. To ignore such an incursion past our borders is an error. We must address it.”
Bjorn raked curved fingers through hair that had mostly escaped the leather bits he tied it back with. “Are three of us enough?” he asked.
“What do ye believe, Master Sorcerer,” she tossed back at him.
A grim smile formed, adding a whole new dimension to his almost profane beauty. “Right before I sensed you and Rowan, I was thinking about eradicating whomever had dragged me away from my cottage. About how I’d make them sorry they were ever born.” One corner of his smile twisted downward. “Mayhap it’s time to put my money where my mouth is. I have friends in Jotunheim. They’ve summoned me to fix their fuckups on many occasions.”
“Good call,” Zelli said.
“What do you think?” Bjorn asked me.
I wanted to go to the council meeting, but I trusted Zelli’s instincts. Waiting a day or two to show up in Asgard shouldn’t cost us much. If this gathering was anything like the ones at Inverlochy when I was a child, it would last for days.
“I’m game. Count me in.”
“Excellent.” Zelli breathed more steam, the dragon equivalent of praise, and sent a jolt of power to tug the gateway open once again.
“Ro can’t use the bridge,” Bjorn said.
“I say she can,” Zelli retorted. “Her dragon blood will overshadow the Celtic part of things.”
“Guess we’re going to find out.” I sprang lightly through the portal. The same scents I associated with Bjorn hit me broadside. At this level, they were far less pleasant. He followed me onto Bifrost. It reminded me of an acid lightshow in one of the many hippie taverns before the Breaking. Lights washed over me, turning things first one color and then another.
The lights were fascinating. I could have watched them forever. In a distant corner of my mind, I was aware of my free will slipping away, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Bjorn stood right next to me, but I couldn’t even find words to tell him I was in trouble. Or use telepathy.
I felt rather than saw Zelli trudge onto the bridge. “Onto my back,” she ordered.
It didn’t seem like the time to get into a discussion about why. Or to tell her I didn’t take orders from her any more than I did from Ceirrot. I was grappling with magic, trying to get it to do my bidding, when Zelli grabbed me and tossed me over one shoulder. I was no sooner seated in what was starting to feel like my place when her voice filled the narrow channel holding the bridge.
“This one is mine! I name her Dragon Heir, and ye shall allow her passage.”
The lights didn’t slow down, but my reaction to them snapped back in my face like an overstretched rubber band. Along with the harsh slap came a return of control, and I was myself again.
Thank the fucking goddess for small favors.
The bridge moved forward, rather like a conveyor belt, and I waited to see what would happen next. This was a lot like traveling to borderworlds, but with air to breathe. “Thanks,” I told Zelli.
“Pfft. I was wrong about Bifrost, but the problem was easily solved. Pay attention to the nodes on the wall. They’re marked by runes denoting the different worlds…”
I listened, absorbing the knowledge she offered, and snuck a peek at Bjorn. He looked exhausted. Maybe I’d kind of skip over what had nearly happened with Bifrost. The more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea. After all, I had no clue what would have occurred after the bridge hypnotized me.
And I never wanted to find out.
Chapter Four, Bjorn<
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While I recognized the wisdom in Zelli’s insistence we go straight to Jotunheim, I would have far preferred retiring to my bed with Rowan. She’d literally hurled herself at me. If I’d had any doubt regarding her intentions, they’d vanished when she crushed her mouth over mine.
All this in front of a dragon, but it hadn’t even slowed Rowan down.
She felt like she’d been born to be in my arms, all heat and curves and hunger. Her nipples had formed stiff peaks where they pressed into my chest, and my cock surged to life. As wiped out as I was, my body’s immediate response surprised me. Memories of her mouth molding itself to my unruly appendage just made it harder.
I’d begun to think of ways we could excuse ourselves for a short while when Rowan stepped away from me, breaking our intimacy as abruptly as she’d started things. And then Zelli came up with solid reasons for why we had to proceed to Jotunheim. I might have argued half an hour wouldn’t make any difference at all.
If Rowan had still been melded to my body.
She wasn’t. The ambivalence she lived with clearly hadn’t gotten any better. My distended cock was annoying. It would take time for it to go down, and there’d be a familiar dull ache from having been called into action and cut off before anything could happen. I thought I’d moved beyond being a slave to my sexual side.
Apparently not.
Rowan and I were overdue for a frank discussion. Either we were lovers, or we weren’t. She couldn’t ride both sides of that street. Meanwhile, she’d ignored my warnings about Bifrost and leapt through the dragon’s portal and onto the bridge. Worry about her rashness ate at me. Yeah, color me a sap, but I couldn’t not worry. Nothing to do but follow after her as quickly as I could.
In my current state, it felt like I was crawling.
When I joined Rowan on the bridge, she didn’t seem quite right to me. I stood next to her but couldn’t figure things out. Still irked—and disappointed—by the push-pull of her wanting me, but not, I was just gathering magic to probe her mind when Zelli grabbed her and tossed her onto her back.
