She giggled and looked at me with such desperate hope my heart broke. “You think so?”
I leaned across the table to kiss her forehead. “Of course, beautiful.”
Someone coughed behind us, and I turned to see Eriksen standing stiffly by the door. He nodded to me and bowed to Hel.
“The advisors are ready,” he said.
Shit. His voice was heavy and formal. Not a good sign.
“Very well,” Hel said, coming to her feet. “Let’s get this over with.”
I walked with Hel and Eriksen through the maze of narrow hallways and to the small conference room. Ever since Frigg’s arrival in Niflhel, I’d been attending the meetings with Hel’s advisors. At first they looked somewhat askance at me, especially Eriksen, but after the first few days they started to smile and nod. After the first week, they even began to listen to what I had to say. It was a new experience, speaking without the weight of Óðinn’s authority behind me, and being dismissed or lauded solely on the merit of my ideas.
And I liked it.
Which meant I now had even more to lose than the most beautiful woman in the Nine Realms, should Frigg’s plan succeed and send me, kicking and screaming, back to the halls of Asgard.
Hel sat down first, followed by me and her advisors. They were all avoiding our eyes. Another bad sign.
“Go ahead,” said Hel. I admired her self-control; she may as well have been talking about the weather.
Eriksen and Ganglati glanced at each other, then at Vigdis, the youngest member of Hel’s council. She was usually the most cheerful face in the room, but this morning she looked miserable.
“Uh, Hel,” Vigdis said, pushing back from the table. “I’ve, um, I’ve got our first report from Álfheim.”
“Please continue,” said Hel.
“Well, it sounds like Frigg, uh, she brought Bragi with her. To Álfheim. And he played a new song.”
I groaned. Damn Bragi and his stupid, overwrought, emotional music.
“Is that all?” Hel asked.
Vigdis bit her lip and turned to me. “Not quite. Nanna Nepsdóttir went with them too. She’s Baldr’s, um, wife—”
“Yes, I know who Nanna is,” Hel snapped. “Just tell me what happened.”
Vigdis took a deep breath. “They cried, my Queen. I’m so sorry. Nanna and Frigg sang Bragi’s song, and the Light-elves cried.”
CHAPTER 10
They all cried.
First the Light-elves, and then the Vanir of Vanaheimr, and then the dwarves and dark-elves of Svartálfaheimr. Even the demons of Múspell cried for me. Entire realms full of people who’d never met me sobbed over my death.
I’d been reduced to an idea, an abstract concept. Baldr the Beautiful. The Lost Son.
Perhaps, I thought in the long, indigo hours of the night, when I stood next to the window so my tossing and turning would not disturb Hel, I had always been an idea. The beautiful son of Óðinn and Frigg, softer and kinder than either of them. The shining, radiant, public face of Asgard, spreading peace and love throughout the realms. At least until the rest of the Æsir brought war.
I shivered and rubbed my arms, although the room wasn’t cold. Hel broke down crying again last night, and it was all I could do to keep from despairing with her. Six of the seven living Realms had cried for me. And yesterday, Frigg, Bragi, and Nanna traveled to the very last of the living realms, the frozen wastes of Jötunheimr. I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair. The Jötunn hate the Æsir. It would be ridiculous to think they would cry over my death.
Wouldn’t it?
I worried my lower lip and glanced at the bed. Hel was sleeping on her side, the covers pulled up to her chin. Her hair spread over the pillow like molten fire. She looked happier and more relaxed now, in the oblivion of sleep, than she’d been in days.
My stomach clenched and tears bit behind my eyelids. I brought my fist to my mouth, biting my knuckle. I didn’t want to break down and start sobbing myself. I needed to stay strong for Hel, to comfort her. To be her consort.
Besides, Jötunheimr wouldn’t cry.
They couldn’t.
“What happened to the apples?” I asked.
Hel was despondent when she woke this morning, so I asked if we could go for a walk in the orchard, hoping I could coax a smile from her in her favorite place. But the skies of Niflhel were low and gray today, and the grass was covered with small, hard fruits that had fallen from the trees. I fervently hoped that didn’t mean these trees were dying, because losing her beloved orchard would do absolutely nothing to improve Hel’s mood.
Hel shook her head. We were alone, but she was still wearing her illusion.
“It’s normal,” she said, in a voice that sounded like a sigh. “It’s called early drop. The trees shed their smaller, weaker fruit early in the season. We make jelly with them, so it’s not like anything is wasted.”
I reached for her, running my finger along her chin. “That’s better. You sound more like yourself when you’re lecturing me.”
She turned away, staring very intently at one of the trees. I followed her gaze to a small cluster of four tiny, green apples.
“These still look delicious,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing my lips to her neck.
“It’s not like you’ll be here to taste them,” she snapped, pulling away.
“I didn’t mean—”
I bit my tongue and held up my hands to let her go. She walked away, her body shivering with golden light beneath the heavy skies. I felt like crying. The weight of a thousand tears pressed against my shoulders, all the grief of the living bearing down on me, filling the space between my body and the lips and breasts and curves of this amazing woman, pushing us further and further apart.
I shook my head, trying to pull myself together as I followed her. She stood with her back rigid, facing the jagged black mountains. I walked behind her, raising my hands to cup the gentle curves of her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Her shoulders slumped. “Me too.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” I said, pressing my fingers into the tense muscles at the base of her neck. “But it’s not over yet.”
Hel gave an exasperated sort of huff. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me feel better, or if you really are the most stupidly optimistic person in the Nine Realms.”
“Well, you did call me an idiot.”
The living side of her mouth curled into a smile and, for a moment, she relaxed against my chest. But then her brow furrowed and she pulled away.
“Tell me you can see how hopeless this all is,” she said.
My gut twisted. Hel was in pain, and I could do nothing to help, and it killed me. Watching her suffer was worse than suffering myself.
Damn it, I loved this woman. I loved her so much it hurt.
And telling her would only make everything worse.
“Things look pretty bad,” I admitted, not wanting to lie to her. “But if I am going to lose you, Hel, I don’t want to spend our last days together fighting.”
She sighed and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. “Baldr, I should tell you—”
The great bell of Hel’s castle tolled across the orchard, its echoing reverberations shaking the little green fruits.
“It’s time,” Hel said, pulling her back up straight. “They must have the report from Jötunheimr.”
I forced myself to smile as I took her hand.
Until I was ripped from her side, I would do everything I could to bring her pleasure.
Eriksen stood outside the meeting room, his eyes downcast. He opened the door without a word.
The advisors all came to their feet.
“Hel, Baldr,” Ganglati said, nodding to both of us. “I’m so sorry.”
My heart dropped and I turned to Hel, ready to wrap her in my arms. Her face betrayed nothing, but her grip on my hand tightened.
“Jötunheimr cried,” He
l said. Her voice was cold and hollow, as if she were sitting on her throne.
Ganglati nodded, biting her lip. “Our reports are incomplete. And, of course, their sweeps haven’t even begun. But it looks like the cities of Thrymheim and Útgarðar cried at Bragi’s song, and that’s almost the entire population of Jötunheimr.”
“Even Angrboða?” Hel asked.
“Yes.”
I flinched. Angrboða was Hel’s mother.
“Leave us,” Hel said. Her voice trembled slightly. “Please. All of you. Leave.”
I pulled her into my arms and kissed her forehead. Her shoulders shook in my embrace. Two months ago her advisors would have recoiled, horrified to see someone touching Hel’s rotting, skeletal body. Now they shook their heads and gave me small, sympathetic smiles as they filed out. I even saw a few glistening eyes.
Great. More tears for Baldr.
Only when the door behind us closed did Hel let herself cry. Her illusion fell apart in my arms, collapsing in a shimmer of golden sparks, and I held her beautiful body as close as I could, trying to memorize her curves, her smell, her soft weight against my chest.
I cried. I couldn’t help it, although I wiped my eyes and tried to smile when she pulled away.
“My dear Baldr,” she said, taking my hands in hers. “I never thanked you. You gave me another life. You taught me so much about myself, about pleasure, about trust. Baldr, I—”
Her voice narrowed and choked off, drown in another wave of tears. I wrapped my arms around her. She was amazing, this gorgeous, fascinating woman. My mind wandered to her mother, Angrboða, who’d known how beautiful Hel truly was and tried to profit off it. Who betrayed her daughter by crying for Frigg. What kind of parent—
Parents.
My mind surged with sudden, desperate hope. Hel had another parent.
“Loki,” I said. Hel’s back straightened and I grabbed her chin, meeting her eyes. “Your father! Hel, he hasn’t cried for Frigg!”
Her brow furrowed. “I thought he did. In Asgard.”
“No, he didn’t. They didn’t reach all of the Æsir. He wasn’t in any of the reports, remember? Can you contact him?”
Her eyes widened for a moment. “Yes, but... Baldr, my father isn’t exactly helpful.”
“I don’t care! He’s a chance. Let me talk to him!”
Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “I-I don’t...Oh, Baldr! What if you’re right?”
She straightened her back and her body lit with golden fire as she wove her illusion before pulling the door open and taking off, almost running down the black stone hallways of her palace. I followed her for a long time, always heading down, until she took me to a narrow, twisting staircase I was certain I’d never seen before.
At the bottom was a heavily reinforced door with multiple locks. It swung open soundlessly at the touch of Hel’s hand. Torches flickered on the damp stone walls of a circular room. There was a black pool in the floor. It refracted the light strangely, making the hairs on my neck prickle.
“Father,” Hel said, her voice echoing. “I wish to speak.”
The surface of the pool stirred and glimmered. I stared as the dark water grew lighter, becoming grey and then white, like mist. The mist swirled and parted, revealing a figure.
I blinked. Loki stood above the pool. Completely naked.
“Hello, daughter,” he said. “So. How are you?”
Hel frowned. “Are you truly that oblivious, or are you just being an asshole?”
“Now, now, no need for that. You caught me at a delicate time, as you can no doubt see.” He gestured to his body, turning his hips in a very distracting way. As always, Loki the Lie-smith was disarmingly handsome. I typically prefer women but, like almost all of the other Æsir, I’d enjoyed the occasional fling with Loki.
Probably something I won’t mention to his daughter.
“I’m sorry,” Hel muttered, staring at her feet. “I...I need your help. Father.”
Loki laughed. “Oh, please don’t tell me this is about Baldr. Just let the poor boy come home.”
I watched a delicate flush spread across Hel’s right cheek. “It’s not that simple,” she said.
“How unlike you to lose your head over a pretty face,” Loki said. “But I suppose you’re hardly the first. Just chalk it up to another afterlife learning experience and release him. The Æsir will be grateful, and they’re not a bad bunch to have in your debt.”
Hel’s eyes flickered over me. The spark of hope had gone out; they were as dark and empty as the pool had been when we entered the room.
I pushed past her to stand in front of Loki.
“I don’t want to return,” I said.
Loki frowned, then looked over my shoulder to Hel. “Enchantment? Really? That’s stooping a bit low, don’t you think?”
Hel scowled. “How typically condescending of you, Father.”
“Damn it, I’m not enchanted!” I yelled.
Loki turned back to me. His eyes widened.
“I don’t want to return to Asgard,” I said. “I’m done serving as Óðinn’s errand boy.”
“So you’d rather be dead?” Loki asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I’d rather be here, with your daughter.” I took Hel’s hand in mine. “I love her.”
Hel gasped and I turned to her, running my hand along her left cheek, feeling her smooth skin beneath the skeletal illusion.
“Oh, Baldr! I love you, too. I’ve been trying to tell you—”
I kissed her, feeling her soft lips against mine. The room filled with golden light as her illusion vanished.
Loki snorted. “I suppose a beautiful woman is the oldest enchantment of all. Well, you two are totally fucked. So, if you’ll excuse me...”
“Loki. Wait,” I said, meeting his eyes.
I was the negotiator for Óðinn, the representative of Asgard. I held the peace across the Nine Realms for a thousand years. I should have been able to think of something to say to convince the Lie-smith to help us.
“Please.” My voice was rough and pinched. “Please. Help us.”
Loki rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll do what I can.”
The torches on the wall flared, and he vanished. I frowned at the oily surface of the pool.
“Does that mean he’s going to do something, or not?” I asked, turning to Hel.
For the first time in days, Hel’s smile reached her bright, sparkling eyes. “He’ll do it,” she said. “He’s going to help. Oh, Baldr, thank you!”
I didn’t expect to sleep that night, but I did. With my body pressed against Hel’s soft curves and my face buried in her golden hair, I slept better than I’d slept since Frigg’s deal with Hel threatened everything.
But my dreams were dark and ominous. I woke with my heart pounding, trying to shake my feeling of being chased. Hel lay beside me, her chest rising and falling in sleep. I took a deep breath of her sweet, floral scent before sliding off the bed and pacing to the window.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, changing from ebony to indigo along the jagged edge of the far mountains. I’d slept the entire night, then. Surprising. I smiled at Hel’s dark, quiet outline. Still sleeping. Good for her.
I slid the bar off the door as quietly as I could and slipped into the hallway. Most of the castle was still asleep, but the kitchen would be awake. I followed the twisting curves of the dark hallways to the feast hall, returning a few warm smiles from the handful of people already at the long wooden tables. I grabbed a popover and mug of tea from the kitchen, kissed the old cook on her wrinkled cheek, and found a quiet table.
“Baldr?”
I looked up to see Hel’s advisor Ganglati, her forehead creased and her lips pressed together. My heart sunk.
“Have a seat,” I said.
“Thanks.” She pulled up a chair.
“What’s the news?”
Ganglati shook her head. “Nothing good, I’m afraid. They’ve started sweeping
Jötunheimr.”
“Shit.” My popover suddenly looked revolting. I pushed the plate away.
Sweeping was the last step in their plan. First Frigg, Bragi, and Nanna traveled to the major cities. They played in auditoriums, at fairs and festivals. They would make entire cities cry, filling the streets with weeping mortals, or dwarves, or Light-elves. And then, after making the cities cry together, they split up to cover the countryside. They knocked on the door of every damn shack in every damn realm, forcing everyone to hear their stupid sob story.
“How long do we have?” I asked, my stomach churning.
Ganglati shrugged. “Hard to say. Jötunheimr’s a big realm. Maybe two weeks?”
I sighed. The good mood I’d had after our conversation with Loki was dissipating like morning fog hovering over the river. Ganglati grabbed my hand. She had dark circles under her eyes, almost like bruises. So I wasn’t the only one finding it hard to sleep. Maybe that should have been comforting.
“Try to keep Hel happy,” Ganglati said. “While you can.”
“Yeah. I’ll do my best.”
Ganglati smiled. “We’re glad you’re here, Baldr.”
I blinked and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to get a hold of myself as Ganglati walked away.
The last thing the realms needed was more tears.
CHAPTER 11
“Could we run away?” I asked.
Hel curled against my chest, her hair spread over my arms. We’d come together over and over, with frantic desperation, until our bodies were completely spent. Still, sleep eluded both of us.
“Run to where?” she said, her voice muffled against the pillows.
“Another realm. Another underworld. Didn’t you say you know another land of the dead?”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t work.”
“Couldn’t we hide somewhere? Together?”
Hel pulled away and turned, meeting my eyes in the dim flickers of torchlight. “And break my oath to Frigg? You’d make me just like my father.”
I bit my lip. That one hurt. It had been almost two weeks since we spoke to Loki in the dark, subterranean pool. And so far, he’d apparently done jack fucking shit for us. It felt like the walls were closing in all around us. We needed a way out, something to break the oath Hel swore to Frigg. I sighed and sat up, staring at the sky outside Hel’s windows. It was already growing lighter.
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