“The Æsir are not your friends,” Loki said.
“Oh, really?” Fenris retorted. “Then why did they share their mead and bread with me for all those years in the Ironwood? Why did they invite us to live here, if I’m not their friend?”
“Because you’re a potential threat,” Loki snapped. “You’re powerful, strong, and unpredictable. Týr wasn’t just coming to the Ironwood to empty his balls, you know. He was coming to the Ironwood to watch you. To see how powerful you were growing, and to report back to Óðinn with ideas about how you could be contained.”
“Fuck you!” Fenris cried. His eyes flashed; I guessed that comment about Týr had cut deep. Perhaps deeper than Loki intended. “You don’t know anything about Týr, and you don’t know anything about the Æsir,” Fenris said.
“I know everything there is to know about the Æsir,” Loki snapped. “I’m one of them!”
Fenris snarled in disgust and spun on his heels, turning away from us. Loki sighed again; his shoulders sagged.
“Just, be careful,” Loki said. “Don’t drop your guard. Don’t let them tie you up again. And don’t drink so much, for fuck’s sake.”
Fenris barked another sharp laugh. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you!” He spun to face Loki; his eyes shone in the early morning light. “Don’t drink so much? Shit, look at you. Angrboða said she’d never even seen you sober. You’re probably drunk right now!”
I was close enough to see a muscle flex in Loki’s jaw.
“Fenris,” I said. “I...I think Loki has a point.”
Silence. A storm of emotions chased themselves across Fenris’s face, from shock to pain to anger. His pale eyes narrowed as he stared at me.
“Why would you do this?” Fenris finally said. “We find somewhere safe, somewhere to have the baby, and you invite him? To fuck things up, to spread a bunch of lies?”
I swallowed hard against the fear and shame rising in my chest. “Fenris, Loki’s right. There’s... there’s a prophecy you haven’t heard. About Óðinn.”
“Fuck!” Fenris cried. He snarled, then brought his hands up to pull at his hair. “Fuck! I finally get things right, and this is what happens!”
“Fenris!” I stepped closer to him, but he pulled away from my arms.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Fuck it. Fine! You and the Lie-smith are right. I don’t have any friends, and I’m not welcome here. Or anywhere!”
Fenris shoved past me and threw open the door. I went to follow him, but Loki grabbed my wrist and held me back. The door closed silently in my face.
“Let him go,” Loki said. “He needs to cool down.”
The lines of the closed door began to blur as my eyes filled with tears. Stars, how had things just gone so desperately wrong?
“Will he listen to you?” Loki asked. “When he calms down, will he come to you?”
I swallowed hard and forced myself to face Loki. “I-I think so.”
“Good.” Loki’s eyes glinted like steel. “Tell him to request shelter from Óðinn. Can you do that? Can you remember those words?”
A spark of anger flared to life in my chest. “Shelter. It’s one word. I think I can remember.”
Loki’s lips twitched into a smile and, for a moment, he looked so much like Fenris that my heart ached. “You have spirit. Good. You’ll need it.”
His smile faded like a candle pinched between two fingers, and he pulled the door open. He was halfway out the door before he turned back to me.
“Keep the robe,” Loki murmured.
I was still trying to figure out if he was mocking me when the door slammed closed.
THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I stared at the closed door for a very long time as my brain stubbornly refused to process what had just happened. The look Fenris had given me kept flashing through my mind, the way a deep injury will throb even as you rest it. The pain in his pale, red-rimmed eyes, and the angry sneer of his lips.
Shit. He’d looked just like Loki.
Thinking about Fenris’s father finally brought me out of my stupor. Loki thought Fenris needed time to cool off, but time was a luxury we could ill afford. I had to find him. It was time he knew the truth about the prophecy.
My gut churned as I stepped back from the door. I should have told him long ago. Stars, I should have told him as soon as we reached our cave, even as my arms and legs had trembled with exhaustion. Or our first morning together, as we woke curled in each other’s arms on the feather mattress Fenris had given me as my dowry.
But I hadn’t. I’d wanted to take all the memories of Nøkkyn’s castle and shove them deep inside, as if I could make them disappear.
I’d been a coward. And now Fenris was here, in Val-hall, oblivious to the danger. I pressed my hands to my eyes to relieve the sting of tears. My husband was in danger, and it was my fault.
I swallowed hard against the panic rising in my chest. I was to blame for this, and I needed to fix it. I needed to tell him everything.
I raised my head and stepped toward the door. My hand was almost to the knob when I realized I was still wearing the pale robe Loki had given me. Another flush of embarrassment swept through me. Stars, I’d been about to walk through Val-hall in a dressing gown.
Well, I’d correct that oversight. I walked to the enormous wardrobe in the corner and opened the door. Inside were a dozen thick, plush dresses. Biting my lip, I tried to remember which ones Freyja had liked. But my memories from yesterday morning were a jumbled haze and, in the end, I just grabbed the closest dress. It was a long-sleeved red shift with a plunging neckline and tight bodice. My hands trembled as I tied the laces. For a moment, the tears bit at my eyelids again, threatening to spill down my cheeks. But, finally, the black ties came together, and I stood up straight.
“Armor,” I whispered to the empty room.
With my chest thrust forward and my head held high, I touched the doorknob. It swung open, and I left our room without a backward glance.
THE LIGHT IN THE HALLWAY was all wrong.
It was morning, or at least it had been morning when I’d left our room. Bright, early sunlight had been streaming through the windows. But the hallway outside our room was as dark as it had been late at night, when I’d dragged myself away from the feast hall to collapse alone on the bed. Torches flickered along the walls, casting strange shadows in the dark corners.
When I turned to enter the feast hall, I saw the reason. The great, wide doors of Val-hall were closed. Warriors sat at the tables, murmuring darkly to each other as blades flashed in the gloom.
Shit. Whatever was happening, it didn’t look good. Swallowing the knot of fear that had begun to bloom inside my chest, I walked to the great doors. They didn’t appear to be locked. I pressed my palms flat against the door and pushed. The heavy wood gave way with a slight shudder and began to swing outward.
Someone grabbed my shoulder. I jumped, letting go of the door.
“Don’t,” a man whispered.
I looked up to see a tall, lean warrior standing next to me, his face etched with deep, hard lines. He reached across the space between us, grasped the door handle, and pulled the door back, closing the tiny gap I’d created.
“There’s a monster out there,” he said, his voice low and soft.
I felt cold, as though all the warmth and light had suddenly drained from Val-hall.
“A what?” I stammered, although my fear screamed at me that I already knew exactly what he’d meant.
The warrior stepped back, pulling me with him. “Just let Týr handle it. He’s the only one brave enough to face the beast.”
“Oh, no,” I moaned. “No, you don’t understand—”
A scream shattered the air inside Val-hall. It was so loud and ferocious it seemed to come from the earth itself, welling up from the gloom beneath the grass until it shook the very rafters. It was a scream I’d heard before. When Týr failed to appear during the full moon, and Fenris raced through the woods, howling
his pain and rage for all the Nine Realms to hear.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered.
I pulled out of the man’s grasp and fled back down the hallway. The door to our room opened as I approached, and I raced through, slamming it shut behind me. For a moment, I feared our windows would be locked shut as well, but they remained open and cheerful, flooding the room with bright golden sunlight and the fresh scent of the sea.
I ran to the windowsill and pulled myself over, kicking my legs into the open air. Then I dropped to the soft grass, pulled my dress up to my knees, and began to run toward the ocean.
“Fenris!” I screamed.
I had no idea where he would be, but I didn’t need to find him. He would hear me. He would find me.
I hoped.
“Fenris!” I screamed again. “Fenris, please! I need you!”
I ran blindly toward the water, stumbling over grassy hillocks as I yelled my husband’s name over and over. My breath tore at my lungs and, by the time I reached the water, my legs trembled with exhaustion.
“Fenris!”
My own voice echoed back to me. The stony beach was completely empty. Stars damn it, why did I come here? Wouldn’t Fenris have gone the other direction, toward the woods? Maybe he’d run so far he couldn’t hear me.
Or maybe he wasn’t coming. A deep tremor ran through my body, and I wrapped my arms around my chest as if I may fall apart. The sun sparkled off the water. From somewhere far above me, birds cried and screamed into the salt-rich air. I could be here for the rest of my life. Alone. If the Æsir even allowed me to stay.
“Sol?”
My heart leaped, pressing against the opening to my throat. I spun and saw Fenris behind me, in his monstrous wolf’s form, black against the brilliant blue sky. White shorebirds swirled and dove in the space around his head.
“Oh, stars!” I ran forward and embraced his leg, pressing my face into his thick black fur.
His body rippled under my touch, shifting and changing even as I tried to hold him. For a moment the world spun crazily, as if I’d had too much mead, and I feared I was about to crash onto the stones beneath me. Then I felt Fenris’s strong arms around my waist, and the moment passed.
“Sol?” he said. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t pull myself away from his chest. “I thought you’d gone,” I whispered. My voice trembled as the birds swirled and screamed around us.
Fenris reached for my chin and tilted my face to meet his eyes. He was frowning again, with that hard line in his brow. “I wouldn’t leave you,” he said. “Sol, you’re my wife.”
His words steadied me, and I felt almost as if some of his strength had flowed into me, giving me courage. “There’s something I haven’t told you,” I began.
Standing on the beach, sheltered in the circle of Fenris’s arms, I told him everything that had happened in King Nøkkyn’s castle. I explained how Nøkkyn had defeated his enemy by setting another, stronger opponent against the city that dared to defy him. I told Fenris about the dark library, Nøkkyn’s treasure room, and how I sat on the floor and fed the king lies which became a false prophecy. I told him about Bard Sturlinsen, and how the legendary storyteller’s face paled when he saw his daughter’s long, golden hair in Nøkkyn’s fist.
Then I repeated the prophecy. Even there, in the thick sea air of Asgard, with my husband’s body protecting mine, the words carried a chill. I was shivering by the time I finished, and my cheeks were damp with tears. Fenris nodded gravely, kissed my head, then pulled away.
“Is that everything?” he asked.
“That’s why the Æsir and the Vanir fear you,” I said.
Fenris rolled his head back, then tilted it to the side. “They’re afraid of me? You really think so?”
My hands clenched into fists at my side. “Of course they’re afraid of you! Óðinn himself fears you!”
“But, all this,” Fenris waved his hand in the direction of Val-hall, whose sparkling windows and wide doors were hidden by the gentle, grass-covered hills. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”
Fenris turned to me with a smile. “Stars, was that all that worried you? That false prophecy from Bard Sturlinsen?”
Something dark and hollow opened in my chest. I’d told him everything, yet he hadn’t understood. “But—”
Fenris laughed. His voice was so strong and joyful, the laugh of a man who has no fears. At the sound, the cold emptiness in my chest grew like a cancer.
“But, all this can be fixed!” Fenris said. He stepped across the stones and took my hands in his. “Sol, we can just tell Óðinn the truth! We can tell everyone the truth. We can, I don’t know, stand on a table and proclaim it to all of Val-hall! The prophecy is a lie, and Fenris is a friend of the Æsir.”
His smile was warm and open. It hurt to watch, almost like I’d been punched in the gut. I remembered the way the warrior had pulled me away from the door, his hands clenched around my arm. There’s a monster out there, he’d said.
“They’re still afraid of you,” I said.
“But, we can explain!” Fenris insisted. His grip on my hands tightened. “We can start with Týr.”
“Týr?”
Fenris’s smile wavered. “He’s here. He’s been calling for me.”
He fell silent. I strained to listen, but all I heard was the lonely cry of birds and the crash of waves against the stones.
“I’ll take you to him,” Fenris said.
The air around us surged and pulsed with gold, and a moment later Fenris’s great bulk surged upward. The birds spun back, shrieking in protest. Fenris shook his head and haunches, then lowered himself silently against the smooth stones. I swallowed hard as I climbed onto his back.
“I won’t let you fall,” Fenris rumbled beneath me as his great back rocked upward.
“You’re not the one I’m afraid of,” I muttered as he sloped off toward Val-hall.
FENRIS HAD ONLY GONE a half dozen steps before I heard Týr’s voice echoing off the hills. I wondered how I could possibly have missed it before; calling had been an understatement. Týr was screaming. I frowned. I’d only spent one night with Týr, and he’d been soft-spoken and gentle. It was a struggle to even imagine him screaming.
“Fenris!” The voice that must have been Týr yelled. “Damn it, Fenris, where the fuck are you?”
Fenris’s great chest shuddered between my legs.
“Have you ever heard him like this?” I whispered.
“No,” Fenris rumbled.
Fenris moved forward slowly, until the glitter of Val-hall’s windows began to sparkle from the hillside. It had felt like I’d run a great distance this morning, calling for Fenris and holding my stupid long skirts above my knees. But Fenris covered that space in mere moments.
“I’m here,” Fenris growled. His voice carried over the boom of the breakers. The warriors could probably hear it behind Val-hall’s barricaded door.
With that, Fenris sank to the ground. I saw Týr’s figure as Fenris descended. He held a long, silver sword in his right hand. It swayed and glinted in the early morning light. I slid off Fenris’s back and stepped away as Fenris transformed.
Only after the sparks had faded and Fenris stood next to me, naked and glorious in the dawn, did I dare turn to face Týr.
I had to bring my hand to my mouth to stifle my cry. Stars, he was a sight. His thick, dark hair was plastered to his head, and the dark half-moons beneath his eyes made him look like he hadn’t slept since he’d come with Óðinn to collect us from the Ironwood. Sweet Týr, our one-time lover, looked deranged and dangerous.
Fenris must have sensed it too, because he reached for my arm and clasped his hand around my wrist. For a moment we stood together in the sunlight, staring at each other. Týr swayed slightly, almost as though the ocean breeze was strong enough to knock him over.
“You called?” Fenris finally asked.
“Shit.” Týr spat, then let go of his sword. It sank tip-first into the grass. �
�Fenris. What are you doing?”
Týr moved closer to us. His eyes were glossy, and flames of color burned in his cheeks. He’s drunk, I realized, with something akin to revulsion. The only one brave enough to face the beast, I thought. That’s what they called Týr back in Val-hall. Týr the Brave.
More like Týr the Drunk.
Fenris’s grip on my arm tightened. “I’m proving my strength. I’m showing what it means to be a friend of the Æsir.”
Týr laughed. It was a cold, bitter sound, the kind of laugh that’s found at the bottom of an ocean of mead. When he looked up at us, his bloodshot eyes were almost pleading. “Fenris. No. I’m sorry. You’re not a friend of the Æsir.”
“Fuck you!” Fenris spat. He pulled away from me and stepped backward as if Týr’s words had hit him.
“Damn it,” Týr growled. “I shouldn’t even be here. I’m defying my father’s direct orders, talking to you. If Baldr doesn’t cover for me, Óðinn could kill me for this.”
“So, why are you here?” Fenris growled.
“You don’t understand,” Týr pleaded. “Fuck, I had to drink with Thor for days to get this out of him.”
Týr paused and took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. Fenris crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed.
“You and Sol,” Týr said slowly. “You should go somewhere else.”
“What?” Fenris snapped. “We were invited to live here.”
“No. There’s this prophecy—” Týr wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, as if the words he’d spoken had dirtied his lips.
“Stars damn it!” Fenris cried. “We can explain the prophecy!”
Týr lurched forward and grabbed Fenris’s shoulders. “It’s a fucking trap, Fenris! Óðinn thinks you’re a threat. He’s afraid of you, damn it! You’ve got to get away!”
Fenris snarled as he pulled away from Týr’s grip. “And go where? Where else in the Nine Realms could we go? Sol is going to have a baby. We can’t live in a fucking cave anymore.”
Týr took a deep breath and spat again into the brilliant green grass. “Go anywhere. Anywhere’s better than here.”
The Complete Fenris Series Page 43