Broken: Book 2 of the ShadowLight Saga

by Mande Matthews

  A sigh escaped her as he pressed into her, searching, seeking and exploring her. His hands gripped her shoulders and brought her down on top of him as they sunk back into the mattress. She obliged, straddling him, spreading her skirts to either side of them. The pressure of her chest against his—her pelvis against his—stiffened him.

  He disengaged, his brain still arguing with his body, though his mind almost lost the battle. He guided her upward, studying her face.

  Emma stared down; her chest and cheeks flushed a bright rose color. With the tip of his finger, he traced her full lips, adoring the fact they kissed him so wantonly.

  Even though the disturbance grew in the distance, Erik closed his ears to it, focusing on Emma as everything around them slipped into the background, unnoticed.

  "You’re safe here, with me," he whispered.

  "I know." The desire seeped from her features, replaced by a clouded gaze.

  "Why so sad?" He stroked her cheek while his other palm nestled against her rump.

  Emma shook her head, glancing downward. The thick line of her lashes shaded her eyes.

  "Is it your dreams?" he asked.

  She chewed her bottom lip without replying.

  "Emma, for the first time in our lives, we have the freedom to pursue happiness together. Without hiding. Without persecution. In this land, nei matter what’s happening out there"—he jerked his head toward the doorway where a blanket hung over the opening to ensure their privacy—"we’re free. You should be happy. We’re equals in this land."

  Emma’s head jerked up. She stared at him, hurt scrunching her mist-colored eyes.

  "Equals? Erik, you know I never cared about your status."

  "But your mother did. The entire village did. And the fact that my mother—"

  "Hush, now." She placed her fingers across his lips. "I don’t care what your real mother was. It never mattered to me one bit, and you know that."

  Her admission comforted him, but a long-ago rift still ached inside.

  "But it mattered to me," he admitted. I just want to be good enough for you.

  Tears welled in Emma’s eyes, startling him. He didn't mean to trigger such a response. Erik pulled himself upright and kissed each of her eyelids.

  "We’ll make a fine house, you and I. We’ll have a bevy of bright-eyed children who look just like you." He could see it in his head: the two of them in a stout little house, with a thatched-roof, or whatever type of strange cottages they had in Alvenheim. And they’d have children—a half dozen hearty babes, crowding around their table, all laughing, all well fed and most of all, well-loved.

  A sigh escaped Emma. "I’m happy we’re finally together, Erik. That’s not the problem."

  He wrapped his arms around her. "Then tell me."

  "In my dreams—"

  "What about your dreams?" He stiffened; his own dreams were once plagued by Loki.

  "It’s the wolves." She nuzzled her head into the crevice between his neck and shoulder.

  "Wolves?"

  "Svol and Arvak, from Grimnear. His wolves."

  Erik realized that Emma omitted saying Lothar’s name as if she couldn’t bring herself to utter it, but he sighed and let the worry drain out of him anyway. She hadn’t dreamt of the Shadow after all.

  "What about them?"

  "If those wolves didn’t aid me when you came for me, I would have never been able to turn the pack away. They were the ones that allowed me to communicate to the pack."

  Erik shook his head, not understanding where she was going.

  She continued, "I can see them like ghosts when I sleep. I hear them howling, like a distant echo." She spoke into his neck; the warmth of her breath moistened his skin as she burrowed into him.

  "Can’t you speak with them?"

  "Nei, I’ve tried, but they are too far away. Still, in my gut, I know there’s something wrong. I can’t shake the feeling."

  Erik guided her back down. She rolled off him, and he pulled her into his side. "You’ve been through a lot, Emma. It’s natural to worry over them, but you need to let it go. I am sure they can care for themselves. They are wild animals after all. Best to forget them for now, and let’s worry over us for once."

  She shook her head. "I can’t forget them, Erik."

  "Then let me distract you for a while." He turned to face her, edging closer, parting his lips.

  Her mouth obliged, tongue slipping between his lips.

  The noise from outside continued, but neither cared—until a sharp pain registered in Erik’s behind. He bolted upright, scrambled out of the covers, and rolled back the bedding.

  Whitefoot danced around on the mattress, hopping from side to side.

  "The little bugger bit me!" he screamed.

  Emma let out a squeal of laughter, clapping her hands with delight.

  Erik furrowed his brows, but regardless of how hard he tried to be cross, he couldn’t. He loved Emma’s laughter, though he refused to let her see just how much, so he mock swatted at the polecat instead.

  "He thinks we should investigate the noise," Emma said. "That we shouldn’t sleep the entire day away when the Palace is in an uproar."

  "It’s not even morning, yet. And it’s hardly an uproar," though Erik admitted to himself that the noise had grown to a level of concern. He crossed his arms over his chest and shot Emma the grumpiest look he could muster. "Besides, why should our lives be ruled by a rat?"

  Whitefoot flopped on the covers, stretching himself lengthwise. His nose quivered as he stared up at Erik with his black, button eyes.

  "Oh, Erik! You shouldn’t refer to him as a rodent. He’s a polecat. They’re quite different, you know." Emma frowned. "You’ve hurt his feelings!"

  Erik rubbed his bottom with exaggeration. "Well. It serves him right. He’s bruised my backside!"

  Emma launched into another chorus of giggles, and despite his best efforts, Erik cracked a smile as well.

  "All right," he said, "you two win. We’ll investigate."

  Chapter 5

  "What were you thinking?" Ravenna directed her speech toward Astrid; she stood with her hands on her hips, demanding an answer, as if she expected the young woman to speak. "Now we have even more unrest to deal with!"

  Astrid tipped her chin up, meeting the First’s questioning with a glare of her own. She fingered the hilt of her sword.

  Their companions tensed, forming a protective semi-circle around them.

  "What were they thinking?" Hallad gestured to the guards lined up behind the First. "They could have killed her!"

  Ravenna’s facade remained placid, like the surface of a pool without the slightest breeze. Her tone held no more inflection than if she spoke about what she ate for her midday meal. "She was never in any danger."

  Her nonchalant manner set sparks beneath Astrid’s skin.

  "Contrary to how it looked?" Hallad accused.

  "Silencing does not kill. It merely renders the assailant incapable of connecting to the Mother with their own voice. But I forget. You are ignorant of our ways."

  "And that’s your excuse for attacking my sister and unarmed men?"

  The First stared at Hallad, as if examining him. She adjusted her voice, adding a lilt to her words, stringing them together like a melody. "Nei, the guards didn’t believe the actual Svenna would attack them. They mistook her for a ruse." Somehow the pleasantness of her tone took away the bite of her words—at least for Hallad, but Astrid’s muscles continued to fire throughout her body.

  Ravenna moved, tilting her head as her gaze switched around the chamber. Light caught the strands of hair that spilled through a topknot on her head, turning the blackness to a rich mahogany. "The silencing was necessary. If we had not taken the precaution, innocents could have been hurt or killed in the mob. And as the Guardian, it will be your duty to see that your people are not injured."

  Astrid sensed Hallad’s mind working, rationalizing the conversation.

  Her reasoning seems sound, Siste
r.

  If not cruel?

  I know how it affected you. But even though her tactics were harsh, if they were meant to subdue those men from doing damage—

  Then you justify her cruelty?

  You should not have attacked the guards. I thought we agreed, nei weapons.

  Astrid flinched inwardly. He was right. She hadn’t meant to, and yet she hadn’t been able to control herself.

  The song acted as a weapon at the First’s command, she said, though she showed no outward movement to betray their internal conversation. She didn't want the First to know they were speaking. I thought the Mother’s song could only serve what’s right. Then Astrid added, veiling her thoughts to keep them from her brother. And I hoped our bond would allow me more control over the dark magic, not less.

  Our father once said, right and wrong is a matter of whose side you’re on.

  Didn't you say the First ordered you to wait in Scandia when you were with our aunt, and I had slipped into the shadowwalk? Then when you arrived in Glitner without the First's aid, she didn't even want you to take me to Grimnear.

  That doesn't make her right or wrong, Astrid. It makes her cautious.

  Ravenna sashayed toward the twins, her ivory robes fluttering as she walked. She examined the area above and behind them, her gaze never quite settling on either of them.

  Both Hallad’s and Astrid’s muscles tensed at her approach.

  Stay calm, Sister. I do not think she means harm.

  Like a snake circling mice doesn’t mean to kill?

  Ravenna settled in front of them. As close as she was, the black raven on her cheek seemed practically alive, as if the creature would spring from her skin and take flight.

  "You are the Svenna," she said. "And you need to act accordingly."

  And how am I supposed to behave? I have nei idea what’s even expected of us, and you command me to act accordingly? Astrid stifled any movement—even the flick of her eyelids—as she glared at the woman.

  "How do we know how to act when we don’t even know what’s expected of us, or what we’re dealing with?" asked Hallad in her stead.

  "That’s why I am going to show you, Hallad." Even though the woman remained cool, the use of his first name sounded strangely intimate; she wrapped a melody around the syllables of his name, and they hung sweetly on her tongue. "There are atrocities you must see that will demonstrate how precarious our situation is."

  "Then show us."

  "I will show you, alone, but your sister must be tested in both the shadowwalk and the touch of the Mother."

  I go where you go, Brother.

  "My sister stays with me."

  Ravenna turned to Astrid, decisively settling her gaze upon her. Her speech hardened. "You are a danger to yourself and others. You run about in the walk, unfettered, swinging your sword in a land that fears the blade, sending rumors flying and fueling protests. You have done more damage than good at this point."

  The First switched her gaze to Hallad, softening her voice into a compelling melody. "We need to test her abilities—all of your abilities. We need to know what we’re dealing with. The state of our lands, both Scandia and Alvenheim, are as such that we cannot afford a wrong move. We will need all our strength in the days to come and if any of you show ability that can be put to use, both our lands will fare better. Then I will take you through the shadowwalk, Hallad, and show you what we’re up against. When you return, you can tell your sister of your discoveries, but for now, the best course of action is for me to test her ability, not only for her safety but for the welfare of all the people in Alvenheim."

  If she leaves her guard dogs behind and faces me alone, she should fear for her safety.

  I heard that, Sister.

  Astrid turned to her brother, allowing the edges of her lips to bend upwards. I know.

  "I am sure," said Ravenna, once again directing her speech toward Astrid, "with your history, you know the dangers of shadowwalking, even if you don’t understand the state of our affairs."

  The two women glared at one another for long, uncomfortable moments.

  Sister…

  What?

  Cooperate. She seems to have the best interests in mind, and perhaps we can discover more of what our roles are in this land.

  Or perhaps she’ll sink her fangs into us unaware.

  Hallad switched his bright eyes at his sister. She couldn’t refuse him. After hesitating, Astrid acquiesced, and Hallad nodded their agreement to Ravenna.

  "Good. I will administer the testing myself then come for you, Hallad, when your sister and I have concluded our session."

  Her enunciation of "our session" made the words sound more like "her trial" and the bounce of Astrid’s nerves double-timed their rhythm.

  ***

  Erik pulled his tunic over his head, while Emma smoothed her gown and brushed her fingers through her hair. Whitefoot bounced around at her feet until she picked him up. The critter shimmied the rest of the way up her dress and nestled around her neck, underneath her sun-kissed tresses. Erik envied the polecat’s position, but watching Emma always brought a smile to his lips, regardless of that lousy rat’s proximity.

  Movement from the hall startled him.

  He grabbed for his short sword—having refused to store his weapon with the others—and swiveled around. A woman dressed in white robes, accompanied by a liveried man stood in the doorway. They had released his makeshift door of a blanket and stood, waiting in the opening.

  "Do you people have any manners?" Erik scowled, returning his blade to its resting place.

  Emma turned, gasping at their sudden appearance. She sucked in a breath, then smoothed her skirts, but her hands trembled as she tried to calm herself.

  She’s changed, thought Erik. There was a time nothing could ruffle the good graces out of her. Erik protectively widened his stance, worrying over Emma’s over-reaction.

  Emma inhaled one last time. "How can I assist you?"

  "Emma Avarrdottir?" the white-robed woman asked.

  "Ja," replied Emma.

  "Sister of the Svenna and Guardian?" The woman’s speech remained monotone. All the Norns wore an unnerving sternness mixed with grace about them, and all, except Ravenna, seemed older than dirt.

  "If you mean Hallad and Swan, or Astrid as you might call her. Ja, I’m their sister."

  "The First requires you to accompany us." She swept her arm back and gestured for Emma to exit with them.

  Erik rushed to Emma, slipping his hand in hers as he guided her toward the door, positioning himself in front of her.

  The liveried man placed his hand on Erik’s chest, stopping him from exiting.

  Erik’s brow knotted. He wished he hadn’t left his sword on the table.

  "Erik Sigtriggson?" asked the woman with the same irritating monotony. "From the Village of Steadsby in Scandia?"

  Erik nodded. What’s this old goat playing at?

  "The First requires you to remain here," said the woman.

  "I will not!"

  Emma’s hand tightened around Erik’s. "What’s going on?" she asked.

  "The First has instructed that you will be tested in your ability as a caller, and that your companion will wait for the First to come to him, here."

  "This is ridiculous, Emma. I’m not letting you go with these strangers by yourself."

  "What was all the commotion about before?" asked Emma.

  When neither Norn nor guard responded, Emma turned to Erik. "I’ll go. It will be all right."

  "Nei, Emma." Erik tightened his fingers around hers and pulled her to him. "We go together," he said; the muscles in his neck strained as he scowled at the guard.

  The Norn glanced between the two, then toward the liveried man. Finally, she nodded, and allowed both Emma and Erik to pass.

  Chapter 6

  The presence of animals pressed into Emma’s awareness as she and Erik followed the Norn along the winding pathways of Glitner, the guard bringing up their re
ar. Whitefoot balanced on her shoulder like a ship’s captain, peering ahead with anticipation.

  You feel them too? Emma asked the polecat.

  I smell them, replied Whitefoot, his nose twitching in the air. And by the stink, I reckon there’s an entire herd.

  Erik pulled her closer to his side as they exited the Palace under an archway of flader bush and stone. The scent of musk overtook Alvenheim’s floral fragrance as a pasture spread before them. Creatures dotted the landscape, though, in the pre-dawn light, their forms remained indecipherable.

  Emma squinted to compensate for the low visibility, but the forms still appeared as dark blobs in the distance. She closed her eyes as she walked, Erik’s hand tightening around her own. His warmth slid into her—his skin always seemed as if coals simmered beneath his flesh—and she used him to guide her while she focused on the herd.

  Reindeer, Emma said. Dozens of them.

  Whitefoot’s claws dug into her shoulder as he stretched his neck out for a better view. But polecats weren’t renowned for their eyesight, and the critter replied, I’ll take your word for it.

  Hello, came a voice. The gentle tone almost escaped Emma’s detection. I’ve not seen you before, but I sensed you earlier, before the sun bedded down.

  An image bloomed in Emma’s mind: a white doe with a heavy belly. Soft velvet covered the doe’s antlers, and sad, earth-colored eyes stared beneath sweeping lashes. She stepped toward Emma, her undercarriage swaying with her effort. Emma opened her eyes. The doe’s form darkened against the emerging light, creating a silhouette of head and antlers that slumped before a stout body.

  "I don’t like this." Erik’s tone startled Emma, seeming loud in the silence of the herd.

  At some point after Emma closed her eyes, the Norn and Palace Guardian had stepped away, leaving Erik and Emma facing the herd alone. Now the couple stood ten paces into the pasture that headed nordr, spreading out to meet the skyline.

  Your companion frightens me, said the doe.

  "Erik," Emma whispered. "Why don’t you wait here for me? I won’t be long."