The Complete Fenris Series
Page 42
“Please,” I whispered. “Fenris, please!”
Fenris’s muzzle lunged up, and for a moment it looked like he wanted to devour the moon. The growl grew deeper, throbbing through the very marrow of my bones.
Something shrieked.
My heart leaped against my breastbone. I knew that sound! A moment later it came again, louder and stronger, the mineral scream of metal reaching its breaking point.
“Motherfucker,” someone growled beside me.
The chain exploded.
There was a small pop, followed by another, and then the air filled with dry cracks and snaps. Men screamed as the shattered black links of Leyding began to rain down on the crowd. I scarcely noticed. Fenris was free! Even now, he came to his feet, his sides heaving and his muzzle streaked with foam and blood.
“That!” Fenris screamed. “That is strength!”
He tilted his head to the sky, bared the jagged points of his fangs, and howled. One of the men standing near me turned and fled toward the shelter of Val-hall. Fenris’s howl was so loud, so raw and primal and victorious, that its echoes seemed to take on a life of their own, resounding across the hills of Asgard, even after Fenris had dropped his head to stare at Thor with his piercing blue eyes.
“You see what you’ve gained, making me a friend of the Æsir,” Fenris panted.
I watched Thor as Fenris spoke, and something struck me as wrong. But a moment later Thor was laughing again, and calling to Fenris to come down from there and drink like an Æsir. The dark air surged with golden sparks, and Fenris’s heaving bulk vanished. I caught only a brief glimpse of Fenris’s naked chest and proud smile before the warriors surrounded him again, cheering and yelling.
I pulled away from the staircase as the men thundered past me, dragging the stumbling Fenris with them. He gave me a dazed half-smile as the crowd surged past me, pulling him through Val-hall’s wide doors. It suddenly struck me what had been wrong with Thor after Fenris broke the chains.
Thor hadn’t smiled.
THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I woke to the restless beat of the ocean against the shores of Asgard. I’d slept fitfully, waking at every hint of sound, hoping it would herald Fenris returning to our room. But now the thin, gray light of morning was dancing across the wall over the bed, and I was still alone.
I’d tried to stay with Fenris last night, after the warriors pulled him through Val-hall’s massive doors. He’d been surrounded by men sloshing mead and singing unfamiliar songs. I’d thought about forcing my way through the crowd to stand by his side, but the exhaustion of the previous night caught me. I’d leaned back against the wall, letting my eyes slide closed.
At some point, I’d jolted away and found myself alone among the long tables of Val-hall. I had crept through the halls until our door swung open for me, fully expecting Fenris to be waiting for me. But the enormous bed had been cold and empty.
I shoved the thick quilt off my chest, smoothed out the wrinkles in my red velvet dress, and ran my fingers through my hair. You look like one of them, Fenris had said yesterday. I never could have imagined how cold and empty it would feel to be compared to the Æsir and Vanir of Asgard.
The hallway outside our room was silent and still. My shoulders hunched forward all the same, as if I expected someone to pounce on me from the long shadows pooling in the distant corners of the hall. The great doors of the feast hall were still wide open, and the skies above Asgard had turned a delicate blue. For a moment, I let myself imagine running with Fenris beneath those pale skies, fleeing Asgard for somewhere safe.
But where could we possibly find somewhere safe?
With a sigh, I turned away from the open doors. The shadow-clad grounds around Val-hall had looked quiet and still; I doubted Fenris was out there. Torches flickered and guttered along the walls of the feast hall, and the fires had all gone out. Still, the pale morning light streaming through the open doors revealed a few figures among the benches and tables.
A handful of men had passed out with their heads on the tables. I walked past them as silently as I could, my heart beating against my breastbone. Fenris was not among them.
A long, low groan crept up to meet me, and I spun around. The sound had come from the table where I’d last seen Fenris. Biting my lip, I knelt and peering into the gloom beneath the long trestle table.
Fenris lay on his side in a pool of vomit. The beautiful blue silk shirt had vanished, probably trampled into the mud of Val-hall’s training grounds, and the pants he wore were so filthy I couldn’t even guess at their original color. Revulsion, anger, and pity welled up inside me like bile. By the fucking Realms, not again! Why did he keep doing this to himself? Why this, when he could have spent last night in my arms?
He groaned again, long and low, and my heart tugged me forward.
“Fenris?” I whispered.
His pale eyes blinked open. “Sol?”
“I’m here.”
Fenris squeezed his eyes shut. I watched his nostrils flare as he breathed.
“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded rough and uneven. “You wanted to talk to me last night, didn’t you?”
“What happened?” I asked, unable to keep the angry bite from my voice.
His eyes opened again, gleaming in the darkness beneath the table. For a moment I saw his wolf shape in those wild, shining eyes.
“Did you see?” he asked. “Did you see me break those chains?”
My chest clenched. “I saw.”
I’d seen how the warriors gasped in fear and backed away from him. I saw that Fenris was the only one smiling afterward, as his massive, dark form rose from the shattered chains.
“Leyding,” he said. “That’s what they called the chain. Leyding.”
“Yes, I know!” I snapped. “I was there.”
He fell silent, and I pushed on.
“Why did you stay here, in the feast hall? I was waiting for you!”
Fenris’s eyes closed again. For a heartbeat, I thought he was going to ignore me and stay where he was, alone and filthy, beneath a table in Val-hall. Then he rolled over, groaned again, and coughed. My hands squeezed themselves into fists as he crawled out from the darkness and pulled himself, swaying, to his feet, his brow contorted in concentration and his eyes squeezed shut against the weak light. For a moment, I thought he was about to collapse again.
“Are you...” I began.
“Fine,” he said. The word sounded like it had been pulled from his jaw. “Just need...”
His eyes narrowed, and Fenris swung his head from side to side, reminding me once more of the monstrous wolf. He took a few lurching steps away from me, fell against the table, and grabbed a flagon.
“Fenris!” I cried.
He ignored me. He brought the flagon to his lips and drained it as I watched, shock mingling with bitter anger in my gut. Finally, Fenris dropped the flagon, pushed away from the table, and ran the back of his hand across his mouth.
“What? Why?” I cried. My vision of fleeing Asgard on Fenris’s back was vanishing faster than the honey-sweet mead in his flagon.
Fenris gave me a confused frown. “It cures hangovers,” he said, as if he were explaining something obvious. “I mean, I guess all alcohol does, but the mead of Val-hall is really good at it.”
I forced myself to close my mouth as I glared at him. “How do you know so damn much about hangovers?”
His frown deepened, and the hurt look resurfaced on his beautiful, dirt-smeared face. “I used to drink all the time.”
My mouth fell open. “I—I thought you said one drinking horn was enough to set your head spinning.”
“It was. I didn’t drink in the Ironwood. Just one horn when Týr came to visit.”
“Oh,” I stammered.
Fenris glanced around us, as if checking to see if we were being overheard. Then he wiped his hand across his mouth again and frowned at the floor. “I hated Angrboða’s castle,” he muttered. “I hated it slightly less
when I was drunk.”
“Oh,” I said again. It sounded like a gasp. The heat of my anger curled inward, leaving me feeling hollow and drained. How in the Nine Realms did I know so little about my own husband?
Fenris shrugged and ran a hand through his wild tangle of hair. “I used to wake up like this every morning. No wonder Angrboða said I was such a disappointment.”
Angrboða. Fenris’s mother. Her long, pale legs and black dress flashed in my memory. She’d walked through Nøkkyn’s castle as if she owned it, and she hadn’t even flinched when he held a blade to her neck.
“She didn’t say you were a disappointment.”
Fenris frowned at me. “When did you see my mother?”
I swallowed, then looked around the darkened feast hall as if I expected Fenris’s terrifyingly beautiful queen mother to suddenly step out of the shadows.
“She came to Nøkkyn’s castle. He wanted you, but she refused.”
Fenris barked a sharp, hard laugh. “He must not have offered her much in return.”
My chest ached; the swirling memories of Nøkkyn’s castle seemed dim and insubstantial. I’d thought Angrboða was defending Fenris, but I could tell from the hard lines of my husband’s face that he would never believe that.
“Fenris,” I whispered, reaching for his hand. “Come with me.”
Perhaps we’d still flee Asgard today. But first, I had to get him cleaned up.
Silently, Fenris let me lead him through the gloom and along the hallway. The door to our room swung open as we approached, and I pulled him inside. Through the windows, the horizon was just beginning to gleam with the approaching dawn.
I pressed the circle at the bottom of the great metal tub, just as I’d seen Freyja do, and our room filled with the cheerful clatter of running water. Fenris blinked as he stared around the room, his eyes wide in his pale face.
“Sol,” he murmured. “Stars, I missed you.”
A bright streak of anger flared inside my chest, and suddenly I was back in the feast hall, alone, staring at my unconscious husband in a pool of his own vomit.
“I was right here,” I replied. “You didn’t have to spend the night puking mead with Thor.”
Fenris buried his head in his hands. When he looked up, the ferocity in his red-rimmed eyes startled me. “I’m a friend of the Æsir,” he said.
“So?” I backed away, crossing my arms over my chest.
“So, I have to do what they want. Fighting. Drinking. Whatever.”
My hands clenched into fists. “That doesn’t sound like a friend. It sounds like a slave.”
Fenris shrugged. “Call it what you like. I have to do what the Æsir want.”
“No, you don’t—” I began, but the fierce sadness in his pale eyes stopped my words.
“We can’t have our baby in the Ironwood,” Fenris said. “We need somewhere to live, Sol. We need a safe, warm home. If not for us, then for the baby. And Asgard is a good place. It can be a good place for us.” Fenris rubbed his hands across his face. “If I do what they want, the Æsir will take care of us. I know it.”
His eyes shone in the early morning light, and my sudden, bright flash of anger was swallowed by unease. The words I hadn’t spoken to him burned inside me. I swallowed hard, trying to find a way to tell Fenris about the prophecy, about what I’d overheard between Loki and Óðinn, but my thoughts unraveled as I watched the shy, hesitant smile on his lips.
He’d let himself be chained because he thought that’s what the Æsir wanted? With a sudden swell of sadness, I remembered Fenris on the practice grounds yesterday, surrounded by warriors and swords. They’d beaten him, stabbed him, dragged him to the ground. He could have changed in a heartbeat, turned into the monster wolf and run from their wicked blades.
But he’d stayed. Because he thought that was what it would take to secure us a place in Asgard, somewhere safe and warm where I could have our baby.
As I watched, Fenris fished a wet cloth from the half-filled copper tub and ran it over his face and neck, scrubbing as if he wanted to remove any signs of the previous night.
Perhaps he did. He hadn’t looked particularly happy when I’d seen him drinking with the warriors. No, he’d seemed almost defiant, as if he had something to prove. His loyalty, perhaps. Or his worth.
“Stars,” I sighed.
I sank onto the thick, soft mattress. My heart ached as though I’d swallowed burning coal. How could I tell my husband he was not a friend of the Æsir? That he was distrusted, feared? Seen as a monster?
“Fenris, I’ve got something to tell you,” I began, hoping the right words would somehow find their way to my lips.
He dropped the wet cloth and looked at me expectantly, without fear or hesitation. Cold stars above, he had no idea how much this was going to hurt. I drew a deep breath, trying to pull my thoughts together.
A loud knock shattered the silence in our room. Fenris turned away from me to stare at the door.
“Did you invite someone?” he asked slowly.
I frowned at the polished wooden door. Freyja, perhaps? She didn’t strike me as an early riser, but who else could it be? Whom did we know in Val-hall?
Týr. The name rose in my mind with a heady rush. Of course it was Týr! He’d promised to learn what he could about Óðinn’s plans and then return to us. Why wouldn’t he come first thing in the morning? The slow burn of arousal flickered to life inside me as I remembered the way Týr had kissed me, slowly, intimately, as though he’d wanted to do nothing else in all the Nine Realms.
“Oh! I’m coming!” I called to the door.
Fenris frowned. “Who is it?”
“It’s a surprise!”
I jumped to my feet and grinned at Fenris. He looked damned handsome, half-naked and dripping wet. For a moment I let myself imagine his expression as I opened the door and his longtime lover Týr walked through.
“I should get dressed,” Fenris said. He was looking around the room as if he were assessing places to hide.
“No,” I whispered. “No, don’t! In fact—”
I grabbed the skirts of my wrinkled dress and pulled it over my head. I had to tug a bit to get the bodice to release my breasts; the person on the other side of the door knocked again while I was struggling to free myself from the blue velvet.
“Coming,” I called again, as I finally tossed the dress over my head.
Fenris stared at me with wide eyes. “Sol..?”
I smiled at him, then turned to the door, totally naked. Maybe I could manage to surprise Týr again, to show him how very welcome he was in this strange, frustrating place. I bit my lip, rocked forward on the balls of my feet, and reached for the door handle. I’ll invite him in, I decided, as the door swung open on its hinges. And then I’ll say—
My thoughts froze.
Standing in the hallway outside our room was the tall man with flaming red hair. The Lie-smith.
Fenris’s father, Loki.
THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Good morning,” Loki said. “May I come in?”
My mouth stubbornly refused to form words. Somewhere behind me, water splashed as Fenris knocked the copper tub.
“Sol! What the fuck!” Fenris yelled.
I blinked and staggered backward. “I—I—”
Loki’s lips twitched in the slightest hint of amusement. “It is unfortunate they didn’t provide either of you with clothing,” he said.
He held out his hand, and a long shimmer of pale fabric appeared in his palm. Loki turned away and raised his arm, offering it to me. Without thinking, I accepted the material and shook it loose. It was a long, white robe. I pulled it around my shoulders and clenched it tight over my chest.
“May I come in?” Loki asked again.
“Sure,” I mumbled.
“No!” Fenris snapped. “No, you may not come in!”
Loki stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. “Lovely to see you as well, Fenris.”
“How could you?” Fenris spat.
“I—” I stammered.
“Your wife did not invite me,” Loki said. “In fact, I’d hazard to guess she was expecting someone else.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Fenris demanded.
Loki sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. “I only wish to offer some advice.”
Fenris barked another sharp, angry laugh. “Advice? You deny me for my entire childhood? You hunt me down in the Ironwood? And now you want to offer me advice?”
Loki closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your mother wanted to pass you off as Thiassi’s son for your entire childhood. You do understand why, don’t you? As my son, you would inherit nothing. But, as Thiassi’s heir, you stood to gain—”
“Don’t lecture me about politics!” Fenris snapped. “I didn’t want that kingdom, and I don’t want your advice!”
Loki continued as if Fenris hadn’t spoken. “And, I found you after you fled into the Ironwood because I worried about you. Once you assured me you were happy, I left you alone.” Loki opened his eyes and fixed Fenris with his pale gaze. Stars, they had identical eyes. “Now, if we’re finished with the past—”
“Angrboða said only a fool would trust the words of the Lie-smith,” Fenris spat.
Loki flinched. “I’m sure Angrboða says many things,” he replied, in a cold voice. “But I have nothing to gain from coming here, and much to lose. My advice is freely given, son. Take it or leave it.”
Fenris pouted. He looked like a sulking child.
“Please, Loki,” I said. My voice trembled, but I pressed on. “Please, share what you came here to say.”
Loki took a deep breath. “You’re on very thin ice here. Both of you. You need to be careful.”
Fenris snorted. “That’s it? That’s your advice?”
Loki’s lips pressed together, and a line appeared between his eyes. Just like Fenris, I thought.