Rock, Paper, Shivers: Act Six and Seven (Bitter Ashes Book 4)

by Sara C. Roethle

  I eyed him cautiously, pretty sure by that point that he was flirting. When I didn't come any closer, he held the glass out to me again. I took it as quickly as possible, then retreated to my seat.

  He sat as well and sighed. “I imagine Alaric had many wonderful things to say about me,” he lamented.

  I shrugged and took a sip of my drink, but didn't reply.

  “He was but a child at the time, and had little understanding of what really happened,” he went on.

  “Living for one hundred years doesn't make someone a child,” I commented as I looked down at my lap.

  He chuckled. “And how old are you?”

  I glared at him. “By your standards, I'm still inside the womb.”

  He laughed again. “You're quite hostile for one so young. Has the world been so very cruel to you?”

  “Look,” I snapped feeling defensive. Sure, the world had been cruel to me, but it was cruel to most everyone. “I don't know what game you're playing at,” I continued, “but it's not going to get you anywhere, so cut it out.”

  He cocked his head to the side as a strange smile crossed his face. “Okay, Madeline. What game would you like to play?”

  “The one where you tell me what you want,” I replied, then added, “really want.”

  He gave me an innocent look. “I want to help you, my lady.”

  I snorted, slowly gaining confidence since he was yet to attack me. “Alaric told me who you're descended from, so I'm not inclined to believe anything you say.”

  “Then why even ask?” he countered.

  I shrugged and took another sip of my bourbon. It was good, really good. “Wishful thinking?”

  He laughed again. “I'm beginning to think this little game will be more fun than I'd imagined.”

  I glanced at the door, wishing Alaric would find some excuse to come barging in. “I told you games will get you nowhere.”

  He set his glass down and steepled his fingers in front of his face. “I was referring to this little war game you're playing.”

  Starting to get nervous again, I looked down at my drink. Maybe if I chugged it, the night cap would be over. Worth a shot.

  I downed the glass, then held it up for Mikael to see. “Does this mean I can go to bed now?”

  Instead of answering, he stood and walked toward me. I jumped up from the couch to get away so quickly that I stumbled, and his hand was suddenly there on my wrist, keeping me standing.

  I dropped my glass in surprise and it thudded harmlessly to the thick rug. Mikael didn't release my wrist, and I looked up at him, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a snake. In my sudden burst of fear, I realized that I'd left my knife in my room, and I had nothing else to protect myself.

  “I will help you,” he said, face entirely serious.

  “Let me go, please,” I squeaked, feeling silly for being rude to the one-thousand plus year old Viking.

  He obliged, but remained standing way too close. He towered over me, making me feel small, even though I was used to being one of the tallest kids in class.

  “If Alaric told you that much of my history, I imagine he told you of my lineage,” he said evenly as he stared down at me.

  Yeah, he told me you were a friggin Viking, I thought, but what I said out loud was. “He didn't really tell me much.”

  I wanted to take a step back, but was afraid he'd grab me again. He saved me from making a decision as he sat on the couch, then looked up at me expectantly. Not knowing what else to do, I sat, then waited for him to get to his point.

  “It doesn't matter,” he sighed. “All you need to know is that I am not content here, hiding in a dark hole waiting for someone to come and take my small clan from me.”

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably, since that had been my intent before he decided to cooperate with us. I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see him smiling again.

  “I will help you, Madeline,” he stated again. “Not for you, or out of fear of the charm. I will do it for me, and for the look on Aislin's face when I take her clan from her.”

  “You want to rule,” I stated, not knowing why it came as any surprise.

  The barest incline of his head was my only answer.

  “Then you want the charm,” I continued as I stood abruptly.

  He stood again as well, then reached out to move my hair away from my face. I jerked away, making him laugh. “Now Madeline, why would I try using the charm myself, when I already have the perfect tool to control it?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him as I craned my neck upward, suddenly wishing I was wearing heels so I wouldn't feel so small. “I take it I'm the tool?”

  He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Does that offend you?”

  I shrugged, then took a step back. “A bit, yes. It seems that's how most everyone views me these days.”

  “Well if not a tool,” he said as he once again closed the distance between us, “then how about a partner?”

  I looked down to see his hand held out for me to shake, then looked up to meet his gaze. “I have no desire to rule.”

  “That simply cannot be true,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice.

  “And why's that?” I asked, having the feeling that he was mocking me.

  He grinned. “Because Every-body-wants-to-rule-the world,” he sang.

  Not expecting the joke, I laughed so suddenly that I choked on my own spit. Mikael made his way back toward his chair, retrieved his still-full glass of bourbon, then returned to hand it to me.

  I accepted it gratefully and took a sip to quiet my coughing.

  “Now that glass was, in fact, poisoned,” he commented as I took another sip.

  I spat liquid all over the floor and began sputtering again, dropping the mostly full glass to the ground. It missed the carpet and shattered on the stone floor. I clutched at my throat in horror as I looked up at Mikael.

  His face was impassive for a moment, then he burst out laughing just as the door to the room flew open. Alaric came rushing in, followed closely by the blonde.

  Alaric glanced around the room, then took in Mikael and I standing way too close to each other. Laughter still coated Mikael's face, and I was pretty sure that mine had turned beet red.

  Alaric's eyes narrowed. “I heard a glass break.”

  Alaric and Mikael stared at each other, while the blonde crossed her arms in irritation.

  “So that wasn't really poison, right?” I questioned weakly, feeling perfectly healthy now that my coughing had subsided.

  Mikael turned his gaze from Alaric to me. “If I wanted to kill you, mennskurð, I would think of something much more fun than poison.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, then took a step back. “I'm going to bed,” I stated.

  Mikael was looking at Alaric as he said, “We haven't finished our discussion.”

  “So finish it,” I demanded, completely out of patience.

  He looked back to me. “I will help you because I want to rule. I will not be told by others that I must live in a hole in the ground. You will help me because you want to survive, and you need a ruler who doesn't give a rat's ass if you want to run off with your little kitty cat to live happily ever after.”

  Alaric cleared his throat at being called my little kitty cat, but didn't speak.

  “And what do you plan to do as ruler?” I questioned, unable to agree until I knew if he was like Sivi, and wanted to punish everyone.

  Mikael smiled mischievously. “I plan to eat a lot, drink a lot, and bed a lot of women.” He placed a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “And perhaps I'll get back into politics. A lot has changed since the Thirty Years War.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. It was a lot better than what Sivi or Estus had planned, and it seemed like he'd kill fewer people. Of course, many would have to die before he became ruler. The charm pulsed against my skin, excited by Mikael's plan. That made one of us, at least.

  “I'll consider your proposition,” I stated blandly, making Ala
ric cringe.

  Mikael bowed his head slightly. “Then we shall speak in the morning, mennskurð.”

  I inclined my head in return, then made my way toward Alaric as he held out his arm to me. I was quite tired of being escorted around, but if it meant I'd get to go to bed, I'd take it.

  As we left the room arm in arm, the blonde began to yell at Mikael in that gutteral language that everyone except me seemed to speak.

  “I have to ask,” I whispered to Alaric as we walked, leaving the sounds of arguing behind. “What is that language, and why do you all speak it?”

  He smiled down at me, even though he still looked pale and slightly irritated. “It's Old Norsk. The Vaettir originated in these lands, and for many of us, Old Norsk was our first language.”

  “Can you teach me?” I asked hopefully.

  A look of surprise crossed his face as we continued walking down a narrow stone hall. “You just finished making a deal with the devil, and your primary concern is learning a new language?”

  I shrugged. “I didn't make the deal with him yet, and I wouldn't mind having something a little more normal to focus my attentions on from time to time.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at me. “And I'm not normal?”

  I laughed as the tension from my meeting with Mikael finally seeped away. “No, my little kitty cat, you are not.”

  “Can I have your attentions anyway?” he pressed jokingly.

  I shrugged. “Once we get back to our room, sure.”

  Alaric dropped my arm, only to wrap his arm around my shoulders instead. “In that case, I'll teach you Old Norsk, if you'd really like to learn. It would probably be useful regardless if you're going into politics.”

  “I'm not going into politics,” I pouted.

  “Then I can kill Mikael?” he whispered conspiratorially.

  I gave him a side-long glance, not sure if he was joking. “Let's deal with the creepy little key around my neck first,” I replied slowly. “Then we'll worry about your centuries old vengeance.”

  Alaric leaned over to kiss the top of my head as we reached my room. “As you wish, mennskurð.”

  “Don't you start calling me that too,” I groaned.

  His arm left my shoulders to open the door in front of us. “How about my little bani?”

  “That all depends on what that word means,” I replied as I walked past him into the room.

  He followed me in and closed the door behind us. “It means slayer, one who kills.”

  I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. “That's not exactly what I'd consider a term of endearment.”

  He paused, as if really considering his answer. “How about my land-skjálpti?”

  I crossed my arms. “Let me guess, it means destroyer or something equally romantic.”

  He smiled, showing me his pointy little canines. “It means earthquake, since you came along and shook up my entire world.”

  I sighed as I walked over to drop down onto the bed in exhaustion. “You're not very good at this pet-name business,” I observed, staring up at the stone ceiling.

  The bed shifted as Alaric plopped down beside me. “I've just never understood why someone would want to be called my little flower, or cupcake, or something silly like that. Flowers have short life-spans and are easily crushed, and cupcakes are eaten without a second thought.”

  I reached my hand out to pat his arm. “When you put it that way, earthquake doesn't sound so bad.”

  “It's settled then,” he said with a yawn. “Just don't let Sophie know. Growing up, our mother called her veðr, which means storm. She'll be jealous if she learns there's a new natural disaster in town.”

  I moved to lay my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around me obligingly. “Do you think Mikael will really help us?” I mumbled, fighting the call of sleep.

  He turned his head so that his lips were near my forehead. “For now,” he whispered against my skin, “but our plans will only suit him for so long.”

  “And what will we do then?” I pressed.

  He was silent for a long while, and by the time he finally answered, I was drifting off to sleep. I could have heard wrong in my delirious state, but I was pretty sure that Alaric had replied with, “We kill him.”

  Chapter Five

  I woke up feeling like someone was watching me. At first I thought it was Alaric, but I reached out to find the bed empty beside me. I rolled over, forcing my eyes open, to find impassive hazel eyes staring down at me.

  Mikael's blonde lackey crossed her arms in impatience.

  I sighed and sat up. “If we're going to be spending this much time together, I should at least know your name.”

  “Aila,” she grunted in her thick accent as she continued to stare down at me.

  Aila had been much more animated when she was taking us prisoner, but apparently having us as guests had put a giant bee in her bonnet. Wanting some distance, I scooted to the far side of the bed before standing. Aila stood immobile, staring at me across a sea of rumpled bedding.

  “Where's Alaric?” I questioned. I wasn't sure at what point he'd left me, and Aila's stoic expression had me worried.

  “With Mikael,” she said with a sneer, “planning.”

  I crossed my arms, allowing myself to get irritated now that I knew that Alaric was at least relatively safe. “I get the feeling that you don't want us here.”

  Her sneer deepened. “You should be killed for having our Doyen kneel before you.”

  I smirked. “He doesn't seem terribly upset about it.”

  She smiled suddenly, though it was more a baring of teeth. “If you say so,” she said distantly, then turned and walked toward the door, expecting me to follow.

  “I need to get dressed first,” I stated.

  She looked over her shoulder at me. “Then do so. I'll wait outside.”

  She left the room and shut the door behind her, and I was able to let out the breath I'd only then realized I'd been holding. I also only then realized that at some half-asleep point during the night I'd lost the leather pants and black blouse, and was now only in my black bra and panties.

  I sighed, thinking that Aila probably viewed me as a rather ridiculous creature, while wondering why I even cared. I started searching the room for my clothes, and eventually found them on the floor near the head of the bed. I struggled into the pants, once again cursing Alaric for his fashion choices. Who the hell buys leather pants for a vegetarian?

  Fully dressed, but cranky, I went into the adjoining bathroom. Though the décor was spartan and somewhat medieval, there was a fresh toothbrush waiting with a full-sized tube of toothpaste. Vikings who appreciated oral hygiene, who'd of thunk it?

  I brushed my teeth and tamed my wavy dark brown hair back into its braid. A shower would have been nice, but I really didn't want to leave Mikael and Alaric alone together any longer than necessary.

  I went back into the bedroom, then opened the door that led out to the hall. Aila was waiting for me, as expected. She began walking almost instantly, and I had to practically jog to keep up with her, feeling like a dwarf next to her long, long legs.

  After a few twists and turns down the hall, I suspected we were heading back to the little conference-style room with the big wooden table. My suspicions were confirmed as Aila stopped beside the door and gestured for me to enter.

  I raised an eyebrow at her while I reached for the handle. “You're not coming?”

  She moved her back against the wall, then stared levelly away from me. “I am Merkismathr. I have no say in matters of politics,” she stated blandly.

  I had no idea what a merki-whatever was, but Aila didn't seem terribly happy about it, so I didn't question her further. Instead, I opened the door and walked into the room without another word.

  All eyes turned to me as I gently shut the door behind me. Alaric and Sophie sat together at one end of the table, frowns on both of their faces, and Mikael sat on the other end, his face unreadable.

  Fee
ling awkward under the pressure of their gazes, I lifted my hand and waved feebly. “Um, hi,” I mumbled.

  Sophie rolled her eyes at me. “Sit down, Madeline.”

  I did as she asked, taking a seat on the other side of Alaric.

  “A message has been sent to the clan leaders,” Mikael announced, his strange, amber eyes all for me.

  My eyes widened. “Already? I never even agreed to a partnership.”

  Mikael smiled. “Well since I've used you as bait, you might want to make up your mind.”

  I turned to Alaric in shock, who sat stony-faced. He obviously already knew the score, as he didn't seem at all surprised. Sophie watched me, waiting for my reaction.

  I turned back to Mikael. “I thought you said you were going to help me.”

  Mikael raised an eyebrow at me. “As I recall, this is exactly what you wanted.”

  “To be used as bait?” I questioned. “I don't think so.”

  He rolled his eyes. “How else did you intend to draw them out? Tell them that my tiny clan was looking for a fight?” He looked around the table to each of us, then settled back on me. “No. We tell them that you have the charm and you know how to use it, and that you will side with the more powerful clan.”

  I clenched my teeth as I considered what he'd said. As a plan, it wasn't half bad . . . unless Estus just sent assassins to kill me quietly.

  “Estus would never believe that I'd side with him,” I argued.

  Mikael quirked the side of his mouth. “Perhaps not, but he will also not allow Aislin to swoop in and claim you.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but couldn't. He was probably right.

  “So what do we do in the mean time?” Sophie cut in. “Just wait here while they kill each other?”

  Mikael stood. “Not quite. We can't risk that either of them might send people to claim Madeline. We will need to remain on the move, always one step ahead.”

  Alaric finally looked surprised. “So you will just pick up your entire clan and abandon your Salr?”