The elders were indistinguishable as male and female; they merely were. With their powerful magic, they lived well beyond any other Jötnar. These were the original settlers to these lands. The ones who broke with their villages and tribes and sailed across the sea in open boats to make their home here.
Their children, and their children’s children were so far in the past, they were no longer even a memory.
For a split second, I considered talking to them, making my case, but then dismissed it. They could well be a distraction, and others could be—
Shielding myself, I tore through the woods, back to my home. The cold breath of their magic raked along my heels and back, and I redoubled my speed. A blue smudge formed in the corner of my eye, and an instant later, cold arms wrapped around my waist, throwing me to the ground. Leaves and dirt kicked up around me, covering my face and landing in my mouth. I spit them out and jumped to my feet. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to run. Betha needed me. The twins would need me.
If only I had the same ability as my brothers. Their connection, while not allowing them to communicate, was strong enough to send impressions or warnings. Diverted as I’m sure they were by Betha, they’d never sense the elders coming.
A second elder joined the first, circling around me, cutting off the path to the cabin. I feinted to one side, flinging a wave of ice and water when they moved to intercept me. One of them roared, but I had the opening I needed. I took it, sprinting to Betha.
Crashing through the trees, I arrived in time to see four more elders, hands lifted toward the sky, directing their ice toward the cabin. Raynor yelled, his voice hoarse, and I knew whatever it was the elders had done was focused on Betha.
Warriors like me trained their whole life for battle, but four, no—behind me I heard the other two arrive—six Jötnar elders against one warrior was certain death.
It didn’t matter though.
Deep inside me, something came to life. A cold blue spark. It hadn’t been there before Betha, but fueled by my rage at seeing the elders attack her and hearing my brothers cry out for her, the spark burst—white hot. It chased my ice through the air and hit the elders. Wherever the spark landed, it melted the ice.
As one, the elders faced me, expressions a combination of surprise and horror, but I didn’t let myself think. I aimed spark after spark at them until they forgot about Betha and turned their anger on me.
Six arms raised in the sky, and about me, thunder rumbled, and the wind howled. They were calling down the elements. In a moment, I’d be nothing but ash.
But I didn’t let it slow me. I used this new power, hitting them as many times as I could, moving from one to the other only to find when I hit one, the last one’s ice had reformed.
It was hopeless. For me.
Not for Betha. If my brothers were smart, they’d have taken advantage of this skirmish and rushed our skaoi to safety.
A blast of electricity hit the ground next to me, and then another, and another, filling the air with the smell of ozone. The elders froze the air, sucking up the moisture, turning it to snow, and the next flash of lightning hit the cabin, igniting it. Betha!
I tried to run, but I was struck by the successive bolt. All control left me, and the ice melted from my body, leaving me writhing on the ground.
The flames moved fast, faster than was natural. Unable to move my limbs, I tracked the line of fire skipping along the roof and down the eaves, consuming everything.
Betha! Inside my head, I screamed for my skaoi over and over. Please be alive. Please have run.
“Fenris!” her beautiful voice cried. I shut my eyes.
I wanted her alive, but I didn’t want her here.
11
Betha
I fought against the unnatural exhaustion and lethargy suffusing me. Arms, legs, eyes—none would obey me. Like swimming against the current, I persisted, focusing my energy on one body part at a time until I came awake with a start and gasped. Cold air filled my lungs, and the arms around me tightened.
“Betha!” Grim’s usual lightness was gone, and his face, outlined against the gray smoke curling behind him, was stark.
Smoke?
Move! I commanded my eyes, and head, to move. But I merely flopped in the direction of the smoke, staring in horror at the flames completely engulfing the cabin. My vision bounced and danced, and I realized Grim carried me away from their home. But the flames, tall orange-red fingers, stretched above the trees.
“Wait!” My voice was a croak, but Grim heard me and slowed.
“What are you doing?” Raynor demanded. Arriving at my side, face pale, he grasped me as if Grim had tired and needed his help.
“Wait!” I repeated, this time a little stronger. “What’s happening?”
“The elders,” Raynor explained. “They came. We barely got out in time.”
“Fenris!” I cried. I’d been so selfishly caught up in the twins, struck stupid by their sexiness, I’d left him unprotected. “And your mother! We have to go back. We have to help them!”
“No,” Grim answered. I’d never seen him so emotionless. “Fenris would want you protected, as would Mor. We will return after we find a safe place for you.”
Panic gave me strength, and I shoved my hands against Grim’s chest, a sign for him to put me down. I wasn’t sure until my feet hit the ground that they would hold me up, but they did. Standing up was step one. Step two was finding Fenris.
Anger and panic warred inside me. Who were these people who thought they could hurt me? And then—finding me unavailable for death-meting, went after my husband?
Or skaoi.
Or ice giant.
Whatever. He was mine.
Using my rage to fuel me, I burst into motion. Raynor and Grim cried out after me, but I ignored them, rocketing through the forest, using the trail of smoke to guide me back to the cabin. Above me, the sky roiled and snow began to fall, fast and thick. It blinded me, but still I ran. A crash of thunder and series of lightning bolts shook the ground, which split in front of me. I leapt over the chasm, crashing to the forest floor only to roll and leap up on my feet again.
Part of me was impressed by my roll, and a teeny tiny part of my brain made a mental note to try it again when death wasn’t on the line. A cool hand brushed mine, and I spared a glance over my shoulder. Grim and Raynor ran behind me, faces harsh in their focus. Grim’s hand wasn’t a clutch of support. He was trying to stop me. Putting on a burst of speed, I managed to outpace him and exploded through the trees into the clearing in time to see Fenris struck by lightning.
“Fenris!” I cried.
In slow motion, he hit the ground, eyes open, body unmoving. His beautiful eyes held mine, and I stumbled toward him. One moment he was twenty feet away, and the next I fell on my knees beside him.
“Fenris,” I whispered, touching his head, his face, his hands. He wasn’t in his Jötnar form, but his eyes flashed white, broadcasting his attempt to cover himself in it. A flash of pink caught my eye, and I stared at my hand. Blue. Pink. White. Pink. Terrified, I scanned for the twins. I found them, still as statues, staring at Fenris then over my head.
I followed their gaze and sucked in a breath. Beings, ten feet tall at least and so deep a white they were nearly blue, watched me. Their white eyes held no awareness, no fear, no compassion.
The elders.
One of them held Freya before him. His fingers dug into her shoulder, and she winced, easing one shoulder toward the ground as if she could dislodge his grasp.
“Live or die, human? What do you choose?” His voice was breathy, cracked and tremulous. Old.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
White eyes changed to blue then back to white again. “Your husbands and their mother. Do they live or die?”
Husbands. Twisting, I glanced behind me. Grim and Raynor tried only to protect me, and had put themselves in danger.
They grimaced, teeth bared. Lines of pain etched along the corn
ers of their eyes and mouths. As they lay unmoving, white smoke curled from their bodies along the black line of charred flesh visible through their clothing.
A small quiver of movement when they breathed and a cry thanking some Norse god from Freya left me boneless, collapsing against the snow-covered ground.
“Live.” I gasped. “I want them to live.”
“Betha.” The first sound in my name stuttered as Fenris regained control over his voice. Turning my head, I met his eyes and saw the refusal there.
“Then you die.”
I didn’t know who spoke, but I did see the icicle, as long as a sapling, fly through the air toward me. A concussive wave left my body as I attempted to block it with my arms. The ice shattered into shards, reflecting back to the elders.
Lightning struck again, this time behind me and then between me and Fenris. It struck continuously, scorching the ground, melting the snow and leaving huge puddles of mud and muck at each point of impact.
Inside, the magic I’d only begun to discover was out-of-control. I tried to grasp it and fling it at the elders. I didn’t care if I made a giant snowball, as long as it destroyed those things trying to harm my husbands.
But it didn’t work like that. The more I searched for it, the farther away my power felt until I finally cried out, “Stop! Take whatever you want, just stop hurting them!”
Time stopped, and faster than my eye could follow, the elders surrounded me. “You choose to die?”
Of course I didn’t choose to die. I wanted to live a long and happy life with these men. In the short time we were together, I’d fallen in love with them. With them, I could have had a future I’d never anticipated. Their acceptance of me, and joy in me, were more than I’d ever let myself believe I deserved.
This world needed more people—men—Jötnar like them.
“I choose for them to live. Whatever that means,” I finally got out, and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain.
But it never came.
Frigid air blew through me, through my bones, absorbing my magic and pulling it through my skin in a rush of snow and ice. I cried out and heard Fenris, Grim, and Raynor’s answering yell. The wind rushed past my ears, louder than a train until it all stopped.
And there was nothing.
12
Fenris
Never had I been as angry and helpless. The elders surrounded Betha, who lay unmoving on the melting snow and mud. I could make out one pink hand, but their huge forms, tall and thick, blocked her from view.
Mor stood a ways off, hands covering her mouth, immobile. The snow turned to rain, plastering her hair to her face. Her eyes were wide, horror-struck, but I couldn’t give her more than a cursory glance.
Betha was so small compared to them. I raged at my body, unresponsive and weak as it was. Every ounce of power and magic I possessed poured into my muscles, but nothing happened. If I could have screamed, I would have.
When they touched her, massive bodies bending and lifting, I thought I might explode into a million fragments of ice. Across the landscape, I heard my brothers cry out, but the sound was only in my head.
Now we had a connection. Now came the ability to communicate across distances.
Stop them!
Don't touch her!
And Raynor’s agonized refusal, No!
Bright light erupted from their circle in a burst of power that blasted across us, sending my mother tumbling to the ground with a yell. Then the light was gone.
And they were gone.
My fingers twitched, then my arm, my toes, my legs, my hips. From the outside in, my body came alive. But inside, I was dead.
“They took her,” Raynor observed harshly.
“Move,” I commanded. I didn't know where they went, but I wouldn’t stand around, aching. If there was a chance she was alive, I would find her. We would find her.
“Let's go!” Grim bounced on his feet, anxiousness giving his body a frenetic energy that changed him from white Jötnar back to human.
“She’s gone.” Mor’s voice was a whisper across the clearing. Eyes fixed on the smoldering remains of our cabin, she stumbled in the muck. “I'm sorry. She’s gone.”
Mor was a powerful Jötnar female. She had the vision and foresight we lacked. But I couldn't believe her.
“No, Mor.” My voice broke. “She's alive.”
“They sent her back.” Sitting in the melted snow and leaves, her pale face paling further, she apologized, “I'm sorry.”
“Back to the plane? Back to where?” Kneeling, Grim frantically gripped my mother’s shoulders and shook her. “Mor. Where did they take her?”
A sad smile touched her lips, and she lifted dirty fingers to Grim's cheeks. “You had to fight for her, but she had to fight for you, too. All Jötnar warriors battle for their skaoi.”
From the woods, an elder appeared. “Freya.” He held out a hand, palm out, waiting.
“Good luck, my boys,” Mor whispered, and she and the elder disappeared in a wet, freezing blast of wind.
Jumping to his feet, Grim sprinted into the forest. The plane. It was the logical first place to start. My magic, so unreachable before, hummed at the surface. I absorbed it, shrouding myself in ice, and used the power coursing in my veins to push myself. Overtaking Grim, and with Raynor on my heels, I returned to the spot of the plane crash, only to slam to a halt.
The plane was gone.
In its place was a large depression in the earth, surrounded by broken tree limbs and small pieces of metal and glass. But the plane? Gone.
“No,” Raynor gasped. His hands went to his head, grabbing hunks of hair. “No!”
My thoughts spun. Mor said they took her back. Back.
“Where did she come from? Why don’t we have a map?” Grim cried.
“Boston,” Raynor cut in, barely above a whisper. “She’s from Boston.”
“Boston is huge,” Grim replied in disbelief.
“We don't know her last name,” Raynor went on.
It didn’t matter though. I had a place. I had a first name. I would find her. Deep inside me was the connection that had formed when Mor bound us. Like a spider, I pulled on it, waiting to feel an answering tug when I reached the end of the line. Closing my eyes, I focused all my energy on Betha, on finding her. On and on the web stretched, across distances I’d never traveled, until finally I found it.
It was moving even farther away, but it was there.
“We’ll find her,” Grim said, voice stronger now. “Find her, get a piece of land far away, and set out.”
“The elders?” Raynor asked. “What do we do about them?”
“Kill them,” I answered.
Grim barked out a humorless laugh. “Oh, good idea, brother. We fared so well only moments ago. I’d like to repeat the experience.”
“We train,” I replied.
“Betha…” Raynor reminded us.
“She is safer far away. Where would we bring her? Would we stay with her in a human city, where the people are packed together, one on top of each other?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t mind being on top of Betha,” Grim muttered, but I ignored him.
“We must do this so she has a safe place to return to. She is ours, but we are hers. She loves us and won’t forget us.”
Our love was real, and it was strong. We’d be together. But first, my brothers and I had a battle to win.
13
Betha
There was no gentle nudge into consciousness, not for me. The last thing I remembered was lightning bolts and ice spears. Panicked, I attempted to block whatever weapon was aiming to kill me.
“Whoa! Calm down! You’re alive. You’re fine!”
“No!” I cried out, slapping and smacking at the hands attempting to hold me in place. “No!”
“Betha, you’re in the hospital. You’re safe.” Eventually, the deep, even tones made their way to my brain, and I opened my eyes and gasped.
“Ottawa.”
> “Ottawa?”
“In Canada,” the nurse went on. “You’ve been here for twenty-four hours. We’re getting ready to transfer you to Boston.”
“Transfer?” I asked. Apparently, all I could do now was repeat words. “I don’t want to go to Boston. I want to go back—” Go back where?
“Am I alone? Is there anyone else with me?” Were my husbands here?
“You mean the pilot?” The nurse shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. He was killed in the crash. You’re something of a celebrity now. Out in the wild for seventy-two hours. Nearly frozen solid. But you’re fine now.”
Seventy-two hours. Was that it? It felt like a lifetime. I met three men—three men who turned into giants and married me. Well. If I was going to be technical, Freya married me to the giants—but wait. Hold up.
“How hard did I hit my head?” I touched my forehead, running my fingers along my skin and down to my ear.
“Hard enough to be unconscious when we found you until now.” The door opened and she peeked over her shoulder. “Oh good. The doctor’s here. She can answer your questions.”
Stepping to the side to make room, a small woman with dark hair introduced herself. “I’m Dr. Lamonte. Let’s take a look at you.”
Words and questions stuck in my throat. I did as she asked, turned my head to the side, followed the small light she shone into my eyes. Answered questions about the year, my name, birthday. All the things I should.
Until she asked me what I remembered.
“I don’t know,” I answered. I moved my arm tentatively; it was a little sore but not bad. I examined my hands, looking for cuts, bruises, broken nails. Anything.
“Short-term memory loss is not uncommon,” she soothed. “You may not ever remember details of the crash or what happened. You had a severe concussion and brain swelling.”
“Brain swelling?”
“Yes,” Dr. Lamonte replied. “You’re lucky to be alive. Stranded out in the cold. Wrapped around that camera there. Even unconscious, you didn’t want to let it go. You had it twisted around your chest and arm.”
The Ice Bride Page 6