Frida frowned at him and tried to shake her hands free. “Only problem with that is that I don't have magic,” she said. “I mean, dreams are one thing—and I don't even believe you when you say that those are true dreams. But magic? I would have realized long before now if I was able to, I don't know, light a fire in the air or something like that.”
Daegal gave her a strange look. “You're warded,” he said. “I could tell it the first time I touched you. Your magic practically sings against my skin, begging to get out. You must know that.”
It was Frida's turn to blink at him. “I'm...” She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Absolutely not. Look, I don't know what you think you're sensing from me, but–“
“Don't be dense,” the priest said, shaking his head. “Look–“
They both fell silent as someone else strode out of the hall. Frida blinked as Reidun removed her hood and stared at the two of them.
For a long moment, the three of them were silent. It was Reidun who broke the silence. “If you're going north, you should leave now, before the boats sail in the morning,” she said to Daegal. “Agnarr isn't stupid; you know he's planning to head south just to spite you—the upstart punk who thought he could tell the war-king where to direct his next raids.”
Frida looked curiously between the two, wondering at the history there. Daegal wouldn't look the other woman in the eyes, and he was kicking his foot along the ground as though nervous. “Does Reidun know…” She paused and then addressed the woman directly. “Do you know about the prophecy?”
The woman shrugged, never taking her eyes off Daegal. “I was the one who told Daegal about the prophecy,” she said. “Daegal doesn't see the future, or at least, not clearly. He runs on gut instincts—but his magic is strong in other areas.”
Frida frowned and looked at Daegal. “What is the prophecy?”
“You should leave now,” Reidun interrupted. “You've been out here for long enough that Agnarr will awaken soon and find the two of you gone again. I can't help to stop another beating.”
“We'll need to take horses,” Daegal said, finally meeting the woman's eyes. He stood fluidly and pulled his shirt back on. “And you'll need to come with us.”
Reidun's brow furrowed, and she laughed incredulously. “I'm not giving up my life here, as the bride of a war-king. No matter how precarious that position has become in recent months.”
“When the wars come–“ Daegal interrupted.
“No,” Reidun said. “When the wars come, I will do what I can to protect my people. That is my destiny in life—to spur others into action, and to wait for my chance to join the gods in their great halls in the sky. It is for you to go north.”
“I've never agreed to any of this,” Frida broke in, still looking back and forth between the two of them.
Reidun stared at her, and for the first time, she wasn't looking like someone who was competing for Agnarr's affections. Instead, she looked like a queen. “You don't have much of a choice,” the woman said, her voice commanding even as quiet as it was. “At this point, you are merely a pawn in someone else's plans. You will go north with the priest, and from there, everything will become clear.”
“And if I refuse?” Frida challenged.
Reidun smiled at her and jerked her head at Daegal. “You'd be no match for him,” she said. “Especially not even knowing what he is or what he's capable of.”
Daegal gave the woman an unreadable look and then turned to Frida. “I would lash you to the saddle, if I had to,” he promised her. “Now come, we need to go. Reidun, I'm assuming you have put together provisions for us?”
The woman nodded. “Everything is ready for you in the lower stables.” Without another word or a goodbye, she turned and retreated into the hall.
“I need to collect my things,” Frida said, making to follow Reidun into the hall.
Daegal caught her arm, though. “What things?” he asked. “That blunt knife that you carry? You have no things. And the longer we delay, the more likely it is that Agnarr will wake up. We need to leave.”
Frida paused for a long moment, but she didn't want to test the man. At least if they were headed north already, she'd be one step closer to Daelfjord when she finally managed to get her freedom back. So she nodded and followed him to the stables, where they mounted horses and rode off into the just-rising sun.
Chapter 8
Frida stared out at the swirling snow and pulled her cloak tighter around herself. “What a plan this was,” she grumbled under her breath. “Go north just as the snows hit...”
“Relax and come sit by the fire,” Daegal said from behind her. He was whittling something out of a small piece of wood and seemed unconcerned about the fact that they'd been stuck there in that cave for two days now.
Frida just wanted the journey to be over. They couldn't be that far from Daelfjord now, she knew, but there didn't seem to be any way for them to get there. The storm had been raging for more than a day now, and the snow was heavy and thick enough that the horses could make very little headway.
“We're going to run out of food—either for us or for the horses,” she pointed out as she came back to the fire. “Or we're going to freeze to death. Or–“
“Relax,” Daegal said, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “The snows are much worse where I'm from. This will clear up in a matter of days.”
“What if Agnarr is right behind us?” Frida asked.
“He'll be stopped by the storm as well,” Daegal pointed out. “Anyway, I doubt he'll give chase. He'll be livid about the loss of two slaves, of course, but in the scheme of things, we're not that important. He can easily replace us during his winter raids. It's the loss of face more than anything else.”
Frida picked up a bit of mending that she'd been working on, although the movement of the clumsy wooden needle that Daegal had carved her wasn't enough to occupy her mind. “You still haven't told me much about this prophecy,” she pointed out.
“It's better if you don't have too many details about it yet,” the priest said, shrugging a little. “I'm hoping that the closer we get to the north, the more you'll see in your dreams. But that won't happen if you're worrying about seeing someone else's prophecy or you get some other wrong idea in your head.”
Frida frowned as she pricked herself with the needle, and she set the mending off to the side, staring moodily into the fire. “You mentioned that someone had warded my magic,” she finally said. It was something she had been dwelling on since they'd left Groenthjal, but she didn't even know what she wanted to ask about it.
Daegal shrugged one shoulder, still focused on whatever it was that he was carving. “It's not an uncommon procedure,” he said. “And especially if your grandmother was actually Liskandian. At the time you were born, there was still a lot of distrust for our people here in Kjota—and the Kjotan have never been too fond of magic except as the little magicks are useful to them. They appreciate healers and weather-movers and other imminently-useful forms of magic, but the moment someone starts hinting at something more, they panic.”
“Hmm.” Frida shook her head. “Can you tell who warded me, though?”
“Not without knowing them,” Daegal said. “Every magician works wards in a slightly different way, but without having worked with those magicians, I wouldn't know their signature.”
And now for the real question… Frida took a deep breath. “Could you undo the wards?”
Daegal's hands froze for a second, and then he continued carving. “Maybe,” he said casually. “But you'd have to admit that magic existed if you were able to unleash your powers.”
Frida rolled her eyes but pressed on curiously. “What would I be able to do, though?” she asked. “Could I… I don't know. Could I change the weather like you? Or would I just have more vivid dreams? Or–“
“I wouldn't be able to answer that,” Daegal said. “Whoever did your wards did a good job on them, and I can't tell exactly what's there underneath. I can
tell you're powerful, though—it's doubtful that you'd just be moving around clouds or anything like that.”
“I could make this whole snowstorm disappear?” Frida asked. “Come to think of it, why haven't you done that?”
“Because,” Daegal said patiently. “Because every amount of magic that you use will leave its mark on you. Have you ever seen an old magician? Usually they're withered beyond recognition by the end. The magic will take a piece of your soul every time you use it, until at the end, you're just a soulless pile of bones and sinew. Magicians don't ever go to the great halls of the gods, unlike what Reidun seems to believe. We don't have enough of a soul remaining to take us there.”
“Why would anyone ever want to use magic?” Frida asked, sounding scandalized. “At least, anyone who believed in your religion. Personally, I don't think there really is–“
“Don't risk maligning the gods now,” Daegal interrupted. “Our fate here in this cave is already looking bleak enough without you bringing worse upon us.”
Frida stared at him for a long moment and then stood, walking back to the mouth of the cave to watch the snow. She shook her head, still mulling over what he'd said to her.
“Could you remove the wards now?” she asked, turning back to him. “If we're stuck here anyways, we might as well make good use of our time. And if you're hoping for me to have clearer visions when we actually are in the north, then perhaps it would make more sense for me to learn to fully harness my powers.”
Daegal stared at her for a long moment. “I wouldn't risk it,” he finally said. “Out here in the middle of nowhere, just the two of us? I wouldn't risk it. There's too much possibility that I could get halfway through the wards and end up totally shredding your mind. I wouldn't do it somewhere that there wasn't another magician around to serve as backup in case anything went wrong.”
Frida pursed her lips and then turned her back on the man. “Waiting may be a luxury that we don't have,” she said finally, staring out into the storm, not sure where that conviction came from but guessing that it might have something to do with that little spark of magic that seemed to flare every time the two of them touched. Someone may have done a very good job warding her magic, but it seemed that they hadn't been able to tame every inch of that wild part of her.
The priest didn't answer her, and when Frida glanced back over her shoulder, he had returned to his carving.
Chapter 9
That night, Frida's dreams were more troubled than ever, as though her magic knew that she was thinking of it and was begging to be let out. She stared up at the top of the cave and then rolled onto her side so she could see Daegal, staring consideringly at him.
She could see the finely-chiseled planes of his face in the orange light of the dying embers of their fire. He looked relaxed in sleep but still animated, as though he never really quit moving. His hand was clenched around the hilt of his knife, as though he expected attackers to come at any minute.
As though he felt Frida's eyes on him, he slowly blinked his eyes open.
“Are you all right?” he asked, sounding half-asleep still.
Frida pushed herself into a sitting position, still staring at the man, wondering if she should give voice to what she had seen in her dream. On the one hand, she was nearly positive that what she'd seen was true, but on the other hand, if it wasn't true, she would feel incredibly childish saying to him that she thought—“You're a shifter,” she accused.
Daegal blinked at her and then slowly sat up as well, looking surprised. “Did Reidun tell you that?”
“No,” Frida said. “I saw it.” She tapped the side of her skull. “It was in one of my dreams. I didn't realize it was you at first, but now it seems obvious.” She frowned at him. “A dragon, though? Why didn't you ever leave Groenthjal on your own?”
Daegal sighed noisily and moved to put a couple new logs into the fire, slowly breathing it back to life. “As I said, it was a pretty okay place to be. Agnarr treated me well.”
Frida shook her head. “But you could have gone back home. In fact, you never needed to come to Kjotan to begin with. Why did you even let yourself be captured?”
“Why did you let yourself be captured?” Daegal countered. “I understand that you didn't want to be prostituted in the middle of your Great Hall, but once the threat of that was over, you could have escaped and remained there in Daelfjord. But as Reidun said, we are pawns in someone else's game at this point. Someone directed you towards Groenthjal. Someone–“
“Why are we waiting out this storm in this cave when we could already be in the far reaches of the north by now?” Frida interrupted. “That is, assuming that you'd be able to carry me.”
Daegal stared at her for a long moment. “Most people wouldn't react this calmly,” he said finally. “Most people would never suggest taking a ride on the back of a dragon as a viable means of transportation.”
“Most people probably don't have that option,” Frida said, grinning at him a little. She sobered quickly, though. “I'm not afraid of you,” she told him. “I imagine that if you'd wanted to hurt me, you could have done so before now. Or you'd have let Agnarr or Finnr harm me.” She cocked her head to the side. “Can I see, though?”
Daegal was silent for a long time. “Turn around,” he finally said, reaching to strip off his tunic and undershirt.
Frida stared at him for a beat longer and then obediently turned her back on him. She could hear the rustle of fabric as he removed his clothing, and she wondered what his full body must look like underneath. Of course, she'd already seen him without a shirt on, but it had been difficult to see much in the moonlight. He had broad shoulders and a muscular physique, but that was all she knew. She bet his legs would be finely toned as well. But his shoulders and legs weren't the parts she was curious about.
After a couple minutes of patiently waiting, Frida finally felt a puff of air next to her ear, and she turned to see.
Daegal in his dragon shape stretched down the length of the cave, a long and sinewy, sleek red form. Frida gaped at him for a moment and then moved hesitantly forward, stroking her hand down his side and marveling at the feel of the thick scales. She jumped back as Daegal snapped his wings out to either side, filling the rest of the room in the cave.
The dragon snorted out a puff of air, clearly amused, and Frida found that she couldn't be frightened of him. Sure, his teeth were longer than her forearm, and she had no doubt that the man would be able to do her serious harm if he chose to. But there was just something about him…
She moved closer again and gently patted his knee.
“Is there any way you can communicate when you're...” She coughed and shrugged a little, not sure how to phrase it. “You know, when you're...like that? I mean, I assume you can't talk like a human, but...”
Normally, we talk through our minds, Daegal told her, ducking his head down so that he could look at her face-to-face.
Frida smiled a little. “Well that's pretty convenient, isn't it?” She frowned, though. “You're able to read my thoughts, aren't you?”
For a moment, Daegal looked sheepish, if a dragon could look sheepish. I try not to, he responded. But yes, I can.
Frida blushed and shook her head, backing away again. “Can you...get back into your normal form?” she asked, looking away from him. “We should discuss...”
She didn't hear any more words from Daegal, but she could sense his amusement momentarily before he changed back into his human form. His very naked human form.
Frida realized she should have realized that, given that she'd seen the man strip off his shirt and tunic, but for some reason, she hadn't connected that the man would be naked when she changed back.
And she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from him.
He had a sprinkling of soft-looking, ginger hair trailing down his chest and past his navel, leading to his…
Frida blushed and wondered if she should avert her eyes. Instead, she found herself walking closer to
the man, reaching out to trail a hand down his chest, until it rested just over his heart. She swallowed audibly and looked up at the man, her gaze questioning.
Daegal arched an eyebrow at her, but he didn't look surprised. He held his arms out to the side, inviting her to do whatever she wanted but keeping from forcing her hand—something that Frida appreciated.
She wanted to kiss him, Frida realized, but she hesitated, wondering what he was thinking. She had thought initially that he wanted to sleep with her and that that was why he kept looking at her and finding excuses for them to meet, but now she realized that it was probably just due to the prophecy and his confusion over her magic. He wouldn't have told Agnarr that he was pressuring her to kiss him if he actually wanted to kiss her, would he have?
Daegal wet his lips, his tongue darting out momentarily to smooth the chapped skin.
Frida couldn't help but lean in, kissing him gently and sucking her way into his mouth. Daegal met the impatience of her kiss with gentle assurance that calmed down something deep inside of her that she couldn't even identify. She let her hands roam across his chest and across the broad plains of his back, unable to keep her fingertips from digging in a little as he nipped at her lower lip.
After a long moment, though, the man pulled away and looked down at her, a serious expression on his face. “I don't want to do something that you regret,” he said quietly. “And I especially don't want to do something that has you running for Daelfjord as soon as you get the chance. The prophecy–“
Frida interrupted him by leaning in to kiss him again, standing on her tiptoes so that she could reach his mouth. “Stop talking or you are going to make me regret this,” she said breathlessly.
Daegal grinned into the kiss and tilted his head, lazily exploring her mouth with his tongue. Somehow, in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs, they managed to remove all of her clothing. She shivered a little in the cold of the cave and pressed against Daegal's perpetual heat—which she realized must have something to do with his dragon side.
Seduction of the Bear (Bear Kamp Book 1) Page 11