Fenris’s lips peeled back, revealing his teeth. “Anywhere? Well, fuck me, that’s certainly helpful.”
I pressed forward until I was standing between the two men. “Týr. If you know a place—”
Týr shook his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the ground. “I-I don’t. I’m sorry. The less I know, the better. Fuck, my father—”
“How do we leave?” I pressed. “The Bifröst, how do we make it work?”
Fenris’s hand closed over my arm. “Sol, no. We’re not going anywhere. I’m a friend of the Æsir, damn it.”
Týr ran his fingers through his greasy hair. “No. Fenris. They aren’t your friends.”
Fenris laughed. It sounded forced and hollow. “Oh, that’s right. Just like Loki said. Apparently, I don’t have any friends.”
Týr’s gaze dropped to the mud-speckled grass beneath our feet. “I’m your friend,” he whispered.
“Really? You haven’t come to see us. You didn’t even speak to me in the Ironwood. And where were you when the moon was full? Where in the Nine Realms—”
“Fenris, stop,” I hissed. “Listen.”
From somewhere behind Týr came the roar of many voices. Týr jolted upright, then stumbled forward and grabbed Fenris’s arm, pulling Fenris away from me. This close, the stench of mead rolled off his unwashed body in waves.
“Listen to me!” Týr cried. “You’ve got to leave! You’ve got to—”
“And go where?” Fenris barked.
Fenris yanked away, and Týr swayed so powerfully I thought he might fall face first on the grass.
“We need a home,” Fenris yelled. “We need a stars-damned place to raise our baby. And you left us in the Ironwood!”
The two men faced each other, and for a moment I thought they would come to blows. Then Týr’s shoulders dropped. At the same time, the roar of voices swelled and crashed around us. Sunlight flashed off the blades and helmets of Óðinn’s warriors as they raced across the grass toward us. Týr turned away, hiding his face in his hands.
They’ll kill Fenris, I realized. They’ll kill us both. The warriors were so close I could see the hard expressions on their dirt-streaked faces. Fear. Hate.
And Fenris didn’t realize it. He didn’t understand fear or hate. By the time he’d think to transform into a wolf, a dozen warriors could run him through with a spear. My chest tightened; my body felt as though it were slowly turning to stone, as if my blood had become molten iron and my heart struggled to push it through my solidifying veins. I sunk my fists into the plush red fabric of my dress. The warriors were now so close I felt the ground shake beneath their feet. Behind me, Fenris began to growl, a low, thick rumble. Some armor this dress turned out to be, I thought.
Armor.
What I had to do flashed through my mind like a steak of summer lightning, thawing my frozen muscles and setting my mind ablaze. I spun to grab Fenris’s wrist. His body was already surrounded by a cloud of golden sparks, like fireflies spinning upward into the vast blue sky.
“Don’t!” I snapped. “Don’t change!”
Then I turned to face the warriors, pulling the thick folds of my skirt around Fenris’s legs.
“Stop,” I screamed, throwing my hands up. “Shelter! We beg Óðinn’s shelter! Shelter!”
THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The warriors rushed forward, jostling and screaming. But they did not fall upon us. Instead, the crowd parted around my red skirts like water. I felt as though my insides had turned to ice, but I held still, and the swords and spears and cold, baleful expressions parted around my red skirts. Slowly, without a word to me or to Fenris, the men surrounded us, enclosing us in a tight circle of bared weapons. The warriors were close enough for me to see the scars on their chests and faces, to smell the acrid sting of their sweat and fear.
“Shelter” I yelled, over and over, although their cold, hard faces gave no indication of whether or not they’d heard us. My heart hammered against my rib cage as if it wanted to break free and escape the silent crowd surging around us. I saw no smiles. No familiar faces. Týr had abandoned us yet again.
“I’m...a friend of the Æsir,” Fenris said, haltingly, from beside me.
His thin, wavering voice broke my heart. Curse him and bless him, Fenris really had thought we’d be safe in Val-hall. A shadow fell over my outstretched hands, and I glanced up to see an enormous, black bird turning lazily against the brilliant blue sky.
“Hugin!” I called to it, cupping my hands around my lips to project my voice. “We beg Óðinn’s shelter!”
The bird dipped out of sight, and the crowd of warriors jostled without responding. If they turned those gleaming blades on us, I thought, Fenris and I would be dead before we could cry out. The hard knot of fear in my chest tightened, became heat and anger.
Were we so threatening now, damn it? My husband was naked, with no weapon, surrounded by scores of Óðinn’s warriors. How could they think him a monster now?
I opened my mouth to scream at them, to throw their own foolish cowardice back in their faces, when the men standing in front of me backed away. My mouth hung open as an old man pushed through the crowd, leaning heavily on a walking stick, his eyes shadowed by his broad-brimmed hat.
The man brushed past me to stand directly in front of Fenris. He tipped his hat back, and I saw his lone blue eye flash.
“Fenris Lokisen,” Óðinn growled. “What in the Nine Realms are you trying to prove?”
Fenris raised his head, defiant even as he was surrounded by an army. “I was...upset.”
“Upset? You terrorized my Realm because you were upset?”
Fenris’s jaw twitched. His fingers clenched into fists. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”
Óðinn laughed. The sound was as sharp and cold as a blade. “A monstrous wolf screaming across my battlefield? And it wasn’t intended to hurt?”
Fenris flinched. “I—It won’t happen again.”
Óðinn bent closer to Fenris, his pale eye as cold and hard as a sliver of ice. “I wonder how much control you have, boy.”
Fenris’s neck bobbed as he swallowed. Then he lowered his chin to meet Óðinn’s gaze. “I have control. I’m a true friend of the Æsir. I swear it.”
Óðinn’s eye narrowed. He brought his hand to his chest and stepped back. I wondered what silent, cruel deliberations were taking place behind that impassive mask and hard, pale gaze. The silence between the two men stretched and grew, taking on a cold weight of its own.
“We’ll have more tests for you, then,” Óðinn finally growled. “Tests of strength. Tests of control.”
Fenris raised his head. “Fine. I don’t fear your tests.”
My chest ached as I watched my husband standing proud and defiant in front of an army.
“And don’t change again,” Óðinn said. “Not here. Not without my permission. Or my warriors will show no restraint. Understood?”
Fenris frowned, almost as if he were struggling to understand Óðinn’s words. The line between his eyes deepened. “I can be a fierce warrior for Asgard, All-father. You don’t need to fear me. If you’re worried about the prophecy—”
Óðinn’s eye widened. The warriors began to grumble around us. A bolt of fear shot through me.
“Prophecy?” someone grumbled from behind me. “What prophecy?”
I had the sudden, sinking realization Bard Sturlinsen’s prophecy had not been public knowledge. Shit, shit, shit. This was bad. I knew Fenris was trying to help, in his blundering way, but to Óðinn and the warriors it probably looked like my husband was deliberately trying to undercut Óðinn’s authority.
“It’s all a mistake,” Fenris continued. “The prophecy says I’m going to kill you, but it’s a lie. I swear, I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m a friend. Sol can explain. Sol?”
Fenris was trying to smile, but his expression looked pained and twisted. Óðinn’s sharp gaze turned to me. I felt my throat close.
<
br /> “Shelter,” I stammered. “Óðinn. All-father. I beg your shelter for my husband.”
Óðinn’s gaze narrowed, and the men behind him shifted uneasily. I doubted this was how the great All-father had expected this conversation to go. Despite everything, I felt a little thrill of victory that I’d been able to surprise him.
“Is this true?” Óðinn said, turning back to Fenris. “You feel the need to beg shelter of me? After I’ve opened Val-hall to you?”
Fenris turned from Óðinn to me, his face furrowed, his eyes wide. He looked lost. Although my body felt like it had been turned to stone, I reached for his arm and closed my hand over his wrist. His pulse raced against my palm.
“Shelter,” Fenris finally said. “Yes. What Sol said.”
Óðinn’s expression hardened into a scowl, and my mind raced. Loki told us to ask for shelter, but wasn’t he the Lie-smith? And Fenris had just undercut Óðinn’s authority twice. In front of Óðinn’s entire army. Shit.
Suddenly, Óðinn laughed. The sound startled me so deeply I jumped, my entire body flinching against Fenris.
“Fenris thinks so little of the hospitality of Asgard,” Óðinn announced, turning from us to face his army. “I suppose he truly is Angrboða’s son.”
Fenris’s arm clenched against my hand. A few nervous chuckles drifted out of the crowd. Óðinn turned back to us, his expression forced into a smile which I found only slightly less unnerving than his scowl.
“My little Fenris. If you’re so worried about your safety in the realm of the Æsir and the Vanir, then I promise you this: No one from Asgard shall spill your blood.”
The crowd murmured around us. Grim faces watched Óðinn, some nodding in agreement, and some wrinkled in bewilderment.
“Thank you,” Fenris stammered. He sounded as confused as I felt.
Óðinn lowered his head toward Fenris, and the wide brim of his hat hid the pale sparkle of his lone eye. Then he spun on his heels and vanished into the crowd. A moment later the knot of warriors broke up and began to drift away from us, some toward Val-hall, others toward the training grounds.
They clasped each other on the shoulders, I noticed. The warriors laughed and greeted one another as they fragmented and spread. But no one clasped us on the shoulder. No one greeted us.
Finally, Fenris and I were alone on the grass. Several groups of warriors had begun to spar in the distance. The clash of their metal swords rolled over us like thunder. Shelter, I thought. What kind of sanctuary could this place possibly be, filled with the sounds and preparations of war?
“Sol?” Fenris asked. He was staring at the distant windows of Val-hall with a deep frown. “Did I do the right thing?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, honestly.
His frown deepened. “Did I do what you wanted?”
I pulled him into my arms. His shoulders trembled, and his hand clenched my waist as though he thought he might lose me.
“I’m sorry,” Fenris said, his voice muffled by my hair. “I never knew what to do in Angrboða’s castle. I was always getting it wrong.”
I tightened my grip around him, as if I could someone hold him tightly enough to reach back through time and comfort the frightened child who hated living in his mother’s castle. “Fenris. My love. I don’t know if you did the right thing. But you did what I asked, and I’m grateful.”
He pulled back, and a hesitant smile crept across his face. “You are?”
“Of course,” I said, forcing myself to answer despite the sudden tightness in my chest. “But, I still don’t think we’re safe here.”
Fenris laughed. “Oh, stars, Sol. I’ve never been safe anywhere in my life.”
The tightness in my chest blossomed into pain. I reached for Fenris’s face and ran my hands along his cheeks. How I wished I could pull him into my arms, hold him close, and tell him he was safe here, with me, in the circle of my embrace.
But I wouldn’t do him the disservice of lying.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and noticed a strange, new scent in the air. It was the tang of coal smoke and iron, a scent I associated with heat, and sweat, and strength. Somewhere in Val-hall, a forge had been lit.
I tried not to imagine what they may be making.
THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I woke to voices in the night.
Our room was dark and still, lit only by the pale gleam of starlight through the windows and the low, dull flicker of the embers in our hearth. Fenris sighed heavily beside me, his dark form reassuringly close. The voices surged again, muted and close. I almost reached for Fenris to shake him awake but stopped myself. Instead, I slid out from the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, listening. Was someone outside our window?
“What the hell’re you doing?” a man’s voice said. His voice was low, but his words were clear.
“Shhhhh!” someone hissed in response.
No, not the window. That voice had come from just outside our door. I shifted, turning to reach for Fenris, and the first voice spoke again.
“You great fucking idiot. Don’t tell me you’re—”
“Shut up!” a third voice said. It sounded slurred with drink. “By the Realms, lower your voices.”
Someone responded to this in a soft murmur, and I couldn’t make out the words. Curiosity forced me to my feet. I crept toward the door.
“—prophecy,” the third voice said. “He’s ‘a kill Óðinn.”
Someone snorted in response.
“So, you think to kill him?” the first voice responded.
I froze.
“To curry favor with Óðinn?” the voice continued. “You really are an idiot. That’s not how prophecies work—”
There was a low scuffling sound, and the rest of the man’s words were muffled. My heartbeat surged. I stared at the door as if it were a wild creature who may bite. The louder voice laughed, cutting off the muffled protests.
“How do you think you’d kill him anyway, you worthless sack of piss? You saw him on the battlefield today. What’re you going to do, toss a spear? It’d bounce right off that monster.”
Someone mumbled in response.
“That’s what I thought,” the first voice scoffed. “Besides, prophecy’s prophecy. You can’t change the future. Even if you managed to smother him in his sleep, that little whore of his would just pour mead into his gullet, and he’d come back. Pissed off. At you.”
I shivered in the darkness. Whore. The urge to rip open the door and smack the men behind it flickered in my chest; I shoved it down.
“Come on,” the man grumbled. “Let’s get out of here before you wake that monster and get us all killed.”
Feet shuffled against the stone floor. I reached for the door, hesitated, and turned around. Our bedroom suddenly felt too dark, and too vulnerable. I pulled the table Freyja had used across the room, wincing as it scraped over the stones, and wedged it under the doorknob.
“Sol? What are you doing?”
I jumped at the sound of Fenris’s voice. In the low light, I could just make out his dark form sitting up in the bed.
“Couldn’t you sleep?” he asked.
My heart thudded against the base of my throat. How easy it would be to say, yes, I couldn’t sleep in this strange place. How easy to lie, to protect my husband’s innocence. His ignorance. My throat tightened. I’d lied about Sturlinsen’s prophecy, and look how terribly that had turned out.
“There were men outside our door,” I said. My voice sounded weak and halting in the darkness.
Fenris sprang from the bed and was at my side in an instant. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Men. They were...” I swallowed hard. “They were talking about killing you.”
With a low scrape, Fenris pulled the table away from the door and swung it open, casting a bright square of flickering torchlight across the floor. Fenris stepped into the hallway, glancing down its length, apparently unaware that he was still naked.
&nbs
p; “There’s no one here now,” he said, finally.
“They were talking about the prophecy,” I whispered.
“Oh. That’s all a misunderstanding. It’ll blow over. You’ll see.” Fenris smiled, and the innocence in his expression made me feel like I’d taken a knife to my gut.
He returned to our room, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and walked to the low, red embers on our hearth. As I stared at our closed door, wishing he’d pulled the table beneath the knob again, Fenris lay firewood atop the embers and blew gently, coaxing the flames to life. Warm light flickered across his high cheekbones and soft, full lips. How could anyone think he was a monster? For a moment I wished all of Asgard could see him as I did, bending before the hearth in our bedroom, his lips pressed together as if he were about to kiss the fire.
When the flames cracked back to life, Fenris leaned back and smiled at me. But the fear gripping my chest like a cold fist must have shown on my face, because his expression twisted into a frown, and his smooth brow furrowed. He stood, pulling me into his arms.
“Sol. Did you think we were in danger?”
I struggled with how to answer. “No. Not from those men. But, yes, too. Fenris, I do think we’re in danger. I think we’re in danger every second we’re here on Asgard!”
Fenris’s arms tightened around my shoulders.
“I think,” I said, pressing on, “I think Týr was right. I think we should leave.”
“You think I can’t protect you?” Fenris said, his voice low and dangerous.
I shook my head against his chest. “No. That’s not it.”
“Sol.” Fenris brought his fingers to my chin, tilting my head to meet his eyes. “Asgard is no more dangerous than Angrboða’s castle, where I was raised. And we need a place for the baby. Somewhere warm.”
My eyes stung with tears as I forced myself to nod.
“I swear to you, my love,” Fenris said, “if there’s one thing I can do in all these Nine Realms, it’s protect you, and protect our child. You think I’m afraid of men lurking outside our door? Stars, Sol, you’ve seen me! I’m the strongest one on Asgard!”
The Complete Fenris Series Page 44