“You want to rule,” I stated, not knowing why it came as any surprise.
The barest incline of his head was my only answer.
I stood abruptly. “Then you want the charm.”
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 craned my neck upward to narrow my eyes at him, 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 inhaled to laugh 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 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. Much has changed since the Thirty Years War.”
I blinked at him, a bit stunned. It was a lot better than what Sivi or Estus 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.
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.”
I stopped walking. “Explain something to me. Everyone keeps mentioning that the Vaettir originated here, but most of us don’t look very Nordic.” I gestured up and down my body. “Especially me.”
“We are not human, Madeline,” he replied. “You must not hold us to human standards. The Vaettir were made in the image of the old gods from varying pantheons, and those genetics were passed down, but they are nothing like human genetics.”
“Now when you say made . . . ” I trailed off.
He shrugged and continued walking. “That is like asking humans the origin of their species. Some believe the old gods were embodiments of different aspects in nature, and that we came from that same energy. Others believe the gods created us themselves.”
I shook my head, supposing it didn’t really matter since we were here now. “So my ancestors are from this region,” I concluded, “but since I never knew my parents, I’ll likely never know any more than that. So, back to Old Norsk. Can you teach me?” I asked hopefully.
A look of surprise crossed his face as we continued walking down the stone hall. “You just finished making a deal with the devil, we’re in peril, 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 vendetta.”
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. “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’ll kill him.”
10
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 pursed her lips and crossed her arms.
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 hissed, 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 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 returned to the bedroom, then opened the door leading 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 led the way through the sitting room then stopped beside the interior door, gesturing for me to enter.
I raised an eyebrow, my hand halfway to 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.”
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.
Feeling 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 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 meantime?” 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 pack up your entire clan and abandon your Salr?”
Mikael's smile was more of a snarl. “There is no pride in hiding in a hole. A small group of us will remain together, while the rest of my people disperse. An entire clan is too easy to track. When the moment is right, we will come back together.”
His energy was so ferocious in that moment that I almost didn't speak, but there was something we needed to get straight.
“I need to be near the battle,” I stated.
Mikael's expression softened with slight confusion. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.
I couldn't tell him that I wanted to destroy the charm. His whole plan was banking on me using it to make him ruler, but I needed a lot of death in the same area to do what the Norn had shown me before she died.
“It's the only way the charm can gather enough power,” I lied. “It draws its energy from chaos and war.”
“And you draw yours from death,” he added, still sounding suspicious.
I schooled my expression to be as cold as possible as I said, “Do you want to rule or not?”
He cocked his head. “I do,” he answered finally, “but I will require that you swear
allegiance to me.”
I cocked my head in return, doing my best to play it cool. “You offered me partnership. If any oaths are to be sworn, we'll both be swearing them.”
Sophie and Alaric gave me identical approving nods, though I could sense they were surprised by my tact. Their reactions bolstered my confidence regardless, and let me know I was hopefully taking the conversation in the right direction.
Mikael on the other hand, was looking at me like he wanted to eat me. “Clever girl,” he commented. “We will swear our oaths, then we will depart. I'll leave you to prepare yourself.”
He walked around the table toward the door, then let himself out. I could hear Aila speaking frantically as they both ventured down the hall. Soon all was quiet.
I turned to Alaric and Sophie. “Um, what exactly does this oath require?” I asked, feeling nervous at the idea of needing to prepare myself.
Sophie smirked. “And here it sounded like you actually knew what you were doing for a moment. I thought perhaps the charm had taken over.”
Alaric appeared solemn. “It is a blood ritual. Normally when fealty is sworn, the swearer will offer their blood to the Doyen. In this case you will both offer blood, and the ritual will be bound to the earth.”
“Is it magic?” I questioned weakly, terrified of what the consequences of such an oath might be.
“Of a sort,” Alaric replied. “A simple blood oath would not mean much, and would only serve to establish a connection. When an oath is bound to the earth, the terms are quite different. Breaking such an oath would result in the earth coming to claim you.”
I gulped. “Claim me?”
“You would die,” Sophie clarified.
My eyes widened. “You know, one of you could have stepped in before I put my foot in my mouth.”
Sophie shrugged. “We're probably all going to die anyway. I'd rather be claimed by the earth than by the blade of my enemy.”
I shook my head, not agreeing with Sophie's viewpoint. “What will the oath be, and what would I have to do to break it?”
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