Sword of Secrets

by S. M. Schmitz

  I had to stop walking as I stared down at her small frame, those round blue eyes that sparkled even in the twilight. “And I would avenge it,” I promised her.

  She smiled at me again. “I know, Havard. I know that you would.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was still dark in the room when I opened my eyes—no murky grayness to tell me it was morning and the sun was taking its time to rise over Iceland. I exhaled slowly and ran a hand over my tired eyes, glancing at the clock on the nightstand between the beds, and that’s when I noticed a figure sitting up in the other bed, watching me. It scared the shit out of me.

  I sat upright, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I had a hard time hearing what the person was saying. This wasn’t Tyr. His body was too small. And it wasn’t Tyr’s voice. As the blood quieted in my ears, I gradually recognized who was in my room with me: Yngvarr had been sleeping in the other bed.

  “Sorry,” he said, and I suspected it wasn’t the first time he’d apologized for nearly giving me a heart attack. “You were making strange noises in your sleep.”

  I grunted and lay back down. “I do that when I have those dreams.”

  Yngvarr’s sharp breath told me he’d been hoping I was dreaming about his dead brother. And because it was Yngvarr, I couldn’t insist he leave me alone and let me go back to sleep like I would have with Tyr.

  “Did you learn anything more?” he asked me.

  I shook my head then remembered it was too dark in the room for him to see anything but the black shape of my body. “You met Arnbjorg and Havard took her around Asgard.” I told him about the entire dream and he listened so closely, so intently, as if something I said would eventually trigger some memory of this brother that was lost to him forever. He laughed a few times, especially when I got to the part about his sisters and told me that sounded just like them, and that Havard had been smart to bypass Odin’s hall. He wouldn’t have introduced a woman he loved to Odin either.

  When I got to the end, I could tell he was disappointed I had nothing more I could tell him, and part of me wished I could close my eyes and return to Havard’s memories, just so I could share them with Yngvarr. Besides, this had been such a happy memory: Havard had been so happy. I selfishly wanted to feel that again, too.

  I heard Yngvarr climb back underneath his covers and as we both lay still, listening to each other breathe, he finally sighed and rolled over on his side to speak to me. “Do you want to know what happened to our parents?”

  I flinched and was glad it was too dark in the room for Yngvarr to have noticed. “I think I can guess,” I answered. “Your mother killed herself and you and Havard killed your father.”

  Yngvarr was quiet as he considered what I said but then he rolled over again and I heard him take a deep breath. These memories were far more painful for him than me. I only held onto a dead god’s memories. Part of me still remembered they weren’t my parents.

  “That’s partly true. The part about our father is. But our mother didn’t kill herself. He broke her, but she wouldn’t have left her children. She loved us too much, and she knew we worshipped her.”

  I felt something stir inside me again and I shuddered and pulled the blankets higher around my chest.

  “He killed her,” Yngvarr said, his voice cold and quiet.

  “I know. I remember Havard thinking that—”

  “No,” Yngvarr interrupted. “I mean he actually killed her. He tried to bring another one of his mistress’s into our home, and it wasn’t the first time, but I’d been encouraging her to stand up for herself. I guess Havard probably was, too. I wasn’t there when my father came home with another lover he intended to keep in my mother’s house, but this time, she listened to me, and she threw the woman out of our palace. My father went into a rage and dragged her outside by her hair. Geirr is the one who told me all of this. That my own father beheaded my mother right in front of our home then went after the woman he’d intended to keep as a mistress.”

  “My god,” I whispered, but I still didn’t know which god I was talking to.

  I heard Yngvarr take a deep breath again. “When I got home and found out what had happened, I immediately went looking for my father. I dragged him out of Asgard, far beyond our walls, and cut him to pieces. I don’t remember it well. Part of me always wondered how I’d managed to overcome my father on my own. I told myself my anger and broken heart must have made me so much stronger and faster than him. I guess I know now I hadn’t been alone.”

  “No,” I told him. “I’m almost positive you weren’t.”

  Yngvarr was quiet for so long after that, I thought he had fallen back to sleep, but his voice drifted through the thick darkness, still carrying that pain from his past. “I wish I could remember him. The first time I saw you, Gavyn, I felt something strange. I think my brother and I must have loved each other very much.”

  I swallowed the burning acidic taste in my throat. “Yes, you did.”

  “Whatever he did, he thought even I would judge him? Maybe even stop loving him?”

  I didn’t know what to tell him. I still had no idea why Havard had wiped out the memories of everyone who knew him.

  “If you find out, Gavyn, I want you to tell me. No matter what it is. I want to know why my brother thought I should lose even the memory of him.”

  It was my turn to sigh heavily as I closed my eyes and wished I could just fall asleep again. But I didn’t think sleep would be coming for quite some time now. “Agnes thinks some part of him has been passed down through the generations. Like in our DNA or something. And being here is waking it up. Activating it. I don’t know, the old woman’s kinda bat-shit crazy if you ask me.”

  Yngvarr laughed and told me he was almost convinced she was really a witch. I smiled in the blackness of that hotel room, not at all surprised Yngvarr’s thoughts had mirrored my own. “Just remember, Gavyn. You aren’t just his descendant. Whether it was Arnbjorg or someone else, a woman bore the child from whom you’re also descended. No matter how strong his presence is within you, you won’t become him.”

  I don’t know how Yngvarr knew my fears about losing myself, about turning into this young god who was sometimes so vicious and frightening and, at others, so compassionate and caring. But he wasn’t me. I would have never gone to that farmer’s house in the first place to kill a man over a horse; I wouldn’t have taken Arnbjorg from her home, even knowing I wouldn’t rape her; I wouldn’t have murdered my half-brother, no matter how much I despised him. I didn’t want this god’s personality. I didn’t want to be anything like him. Yet despite Yngvarr’s insistence I wouldn’t become his dead brother, I couldn’t help feeling like I already was.

  In the morning, Keira actually met us for breakfast, but once she made sure I’d survived the night and was still sane, or I don’t actually know what she’d been worried about, she went back to ignoring me. She sat by Frey and would occasionally scowl at Freyja when the goddess leaned across the table to reach for sweetener or syrup instead of just asking me to pass it to her. And I’m really not stupid, despite the way I act sometimes. I knew exactly what she was doing because some part of her body brushed against me every time she reached for something else.

  Frey was in a surprisingly good mood for a guy who’d been thrown across a room the night before. He wouldn’t even let me apologize. He and Tyr chatted non-stop about the rain and how it was throwing off our plans for the day, and how apparently, one rainy day was going to cause the entire world to erupt into Armageddon because a handful of descendants of Norse gods couldn’t keep getting the shit beaten out of them in a field outside of Reykjavik. Okay, they never said that last part—that was all me.

  Keira turned her scowl to the window so she could complain about the weather, too, and I suddenly felt like I was having breakfast with my grandparents. “We shouldn’t waste an entire day,” she muttered.

  I felt Freyja’s hand slide over my thigh as she told Keira the day didn’t have to be a complet
e waste. Either she knew Freyja well or my reaction gave away what she was doing because Keira finally stopped ignoring me.

  “Cut it out.” And she told me that, like I was doing anything other than trying not to choke on my eggs.

  I spread my hands apart over my plate and retorted, “I’m just trying to eat breakfast.” Freyja’s hand had slipped dangerously close to my crotch so I told her that was directed to her, too. I really did just want to finish my breakfast. I’d skipped supper the night before after everything with the Sumerians and their new deadline. I was starving.

  Tyr and Frey thought the whole thing was funny, at least until Keira kicked Frey under the table. I had a feeling she wanted to kick Tyr, too, but he was sitting next to her. I wagged my fork at her. “You’re violent. And mean. You need to stop assaulting people.”

  I got flipped off for that.

  Apparently, my esteemed instructors decided the best use of our time on a rainy day while we were preparing for some epic showdown with pissed off gods was to go see a movie. I couldn’t make this shit up. They argued for a few minutes about what early show they were going to see, then asked me to decide. I shook my head. “I don’t want to go. You’re on your own.”

  Hunter entered the hotel’s restaurant with Cadros, and Frey immediately tried to get them to vote for his choice of movie, but apparently, the Celts have different tastes in cinematic entertainment, because honest to god, they all argued about it like this was the most important decision they’d ever have to make. I threw my fork on my empty plate and stood up. “I’m going back to my room. Can’t one of you give me my own room key?”

  “I’ll go with you,” Keira offered.

  “It would be easier to give me my own key.” I even held my hand out like she was actually going to hand the card key over.

  As I expected, she walked past me without even acknowledging me. I followed her to the elevators and she punched the up button. When the doors didn’t open, she hit it again, and I felt obligated to remind her—for the second time—that wasn’t going to make the elevator appear any faster.

  She crossed her arms defiantly and kept her glare on the closed elevator doors. “You’re just like every other man,” she mumbled.

  I studied the elevator buttons then her for a few seconds before asking, “Because I don’t think you should keep assaulting people or because I feel the need to remind you that assaulting elevators doesn’t work either?”

  The elevator doors opened and Keira grabbed my arm and pulled me inside then punched the button to close the doors again.

  “Why are you so angry?” I asked her. “And ow.”

  She let go of my arm and finally looked at me, but I was entirely confused by those emotions behind her radiant eyes. “You’re just going to let Freyja have her way with you.”

  And yeah, she made it sound like that was a bad thing.

  “What the hell? If anything were to happen between Freyja and me, I’m pretty sure it would be because I’m totally fine with casual sex. She’s not getting away with anything.”

  Also going onto my list of stupidest-things-Gavyn-Barber-has-ever-said. But I was too angry myself and fed up with Keira’s multiple personalities in that moment to think straight, and the words were already out. It’s not like I could force them back in my big mouth.

  “Like I said. You’re just like every other man.” The doors opened on our floor and she stormed out of the elevator and into the hallway. And my big stupid mouth kept talking.

  “That’s so sexist,” I shot back. “She’s the one who’s been hitting on me and you’re the one who kissed me. I haven’t done anything!”

  Keira spun around and stopped me and I stepped back, worried she was actually going to take a swing at me now. But she didn’t and the way her eyes were glistening, I knew she was trying to hold back tears and I really wished she would just take a swing at me. “Keira,” but she didn’t let me finish my apology.

  “You’re right. And it was a mistake. I don’t care what you do. Here’s your goddamn key.” She pushed the card key into my hand and darted down the hallway into the stairwell, and I wanted to stop her. I wanted to run after her and make her listen to my apology, my groveling, anything that would convince her I wasn’t the huge asshole I’d just proven myself to be. But I used the card key and let myself into my room instead, sinking onto the edge of the bed and burying my face in my hands, wondering how much more messed up my life could possibly get in the span of a week.

  I had just decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and go back down to the lobby to see if Frey and Tyr had left for the movies yet when I heard a soft knock at my door. I allowed myself to hope Keira had returned and would actually listen to my groveling apology or I’d even settle for her manhandling me some more. I was pretty sure castration was permanent anyway.

  But it wasn’t Keira on the other side of my door. I’d suspected that. I knew that wasn’t her knock. But I couldn’t help hoping anyway. Freyja smiled at me and glanced inside the room. “All alone?” She didn’t sound disappointed or surprised.

  “Well, I’m assuming Yngvarr is still competing with Tyr to see who can actually eat an entire pig, so yeah…”

  Freyja laughed even though I hadn’t really been joking. Damn, those guys could eat. And Yngvarr was built just like me: strong and tall but we weren’t huge. I had no idea where all of that bacon and sausage was going. Gods must have a second stomach.

  Freyja pressed past me but I grabbed her arm. She looked up at me, her gray-blue eyes surprised but this was a game, and my reticence was only a challenge for her to overcome. “Let’s go catch the movie with them,” I suggested.

  “A movie,” she repeated.

  I nodded.

  “Gavyn,” Freyja purred, and she put an arm around my neck but I was standing in a narrow hallway between a wall and the bathroom. I had nowhere to go. “You’re buying into what the Seer told Gunnr? You can still control what you do. You don’t owe her anything.”

  I had no idea what this Seer had told Gunnr, but I desperately wanted to know, so I pretended I understood everything Freyja had just said. I reached up and moved her arm gently away from me and she gave me that look again, like I was just playing hard to get and the idea of that excited her. “Maybe some of us believe in fate.” Maybe some people did, but I sure as hell didn’t.

  “If you believe it all, then why waste your time like this? Why not make the most of it?”

  I think I gasped. Actually, I’m pretty sure I did and thought again how I would never hear the end of this if Hunter had been around. And the look on Freyja’s face transformed as she realized I hadn’t known as much as I’d let on. “Gavyn,” she stammered, but I shook my head.

  “I’m supposed to die. That’s why no one would tell me what this prophecy is.”

  Freyja’s eyes betrayed how horrified she was that she’d revealed this information to me, and she backed away from me. “It was a vision, Gavyn. Prophecies are notoriously difficult to decipher.”

  I fell back against the wall and exhaled slowly. “So it could be wrong?”

  “Not wrong,” she clarified. “Misinterpreted.”

  I closed my eyes. “Why wouldn’t anyone tell me?”

  “It was difficult enough to get you here. Knowing you might die would have made it impossible.”

  I tried to laugh but I think it stuck in my throat. “They’re training me to fight pissed off gods. The thought I might die has passed through my head before.”

  Freyja let her arms fall by her sides and the clinking metal of her gold bracelets was the only sound in the room for what felt like endless seconds as she thought about how to respond. “It’s different now, though, isn’t it? Knowing something was a possibility and knowing how the Seer predicted this could end for you and Gunnr?”

  I thought about that then nodded. And then I realized she’d added Gunnr’s name in there, too. “Wait. What do you mean me and Gunnr?”

  Freyja folded her arms across
her chest and raised an eyebrow at me. “You didn’t know any of this, did you? You’re a naughty boy, Gavyn.”

  I sighed and would have rolled my eyes, but honestly, hearing her tell me I was a naughty boy only made me think of the ways she’d like to punish me, and I couldn’t roll my eyes at her because I was too damn curious and turned on by thinking about it. “What happens to Keira?” I asked again.

  Freyja shrugged. “She’s a Valkyrie, Gavyn. She’ll be fine.”

  “If gods can die, then… whatever she is can die, too,” I said.

  “She’s not supposed to die. But all of our fates can turn out to be completely different. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  I threw my hands in the air, exasperated because she was still dancing around whatever this prophecy was that no one wanted me to know about. How could anything be worse than me dying?

  I was about to ask her again but one of the rings on her fingers caught my attention, glimmering in the yellow incandescent light of the hotel room. I recognized that ring, its intricate braided metalwork, the delicacy of its design. “Havard’s ring,” I murmured.

  Freyja glanced down at her hand and extended her long, slender fingers. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I nodded but couldn’t take my eyes off it.

  “Why did he turn me down?” she asked, still studying the ring on her finger.

  I didn’t want to talk to her about Havard’s parents or Arnbjorg. Especially not about Arnbjorg. Something shifted in me again and I blinked at the ring, trying to remember what we’d just been talking about—it had seemed so important, but I couldn’t place any of the conversation—but part of me wanted that ring back. I didn’t even know what I would do with it. “Yes,” I whispered. “It is beautiful.”

  And Freyja lifted her eyes and smiled at me. “Well, everything’s negotiable, Havard.”