A Curious Twist of Lime

by Heather R. Blair

  Georg is growling.

  “Did you think I would just let you go?”

  “Why not? I am a grown woman.”

  “Who hasn’t a clue where she is or how to function in this world!”

  I wind my fingers around a tuft of chest hair and pull. With a curse, he sits up, but doesn’t release me. Those massive arms loosen just enough that I can push back and glare at him. “I know where I am. Russia, near the Estonian border. Approximately eighteen hundred and fifty miles from England.”

  He blinks. Finally, those arms fall away. “Was that where you were going? England?”

  I shrug, unable to face the look in his eyes. “It’s a good place to start.” I know I lived there, not where exactly, though when I looked at the maps in the library last night a few names seemed to ring a bell. That was after draining a bottle of potion and shrinking to the size of a mouse. Thankfully bruins aren’t big on cats. But I had to lurk close to the walls of the castle until I grew big enough to brave the woods. No way was I risking an owl thinking I was a strangely shaped rodent dinner.

  “You don’t have any money,” he says. His tone has softened, but I can feel the tension in the body under mine.

  I swallow. “I know. But I have something to sell.” It broke my heart to even consider it, but I told myself I’d buy it back someday.

  “This?”

  I gasp at the sight of Papa’s watch dangling from his fingers. “Yes. That’s mine. My father’s, really. He used to let me play with it sometimes.” I’m babbling now, but I can’t seem to stop. “Counting games. Things like that.”

  He drops it into my palm. “You should wind it.”

  “Wind it?” The metal is warm from his hands. “It wouldn’t do any good. The watch hasn’t worked since the day the Master took me to Niflheim.”

  He stares at my clenched fingers. “You’re certain of that?”

  “Yes.”

  Georg lifts his gaze from the watch to my face. “Weren’t you even going to say goodbye, Alice?”

  There is something in the softness of his voice, the golden glow on his eyes that makes my heart hurt. “I figured you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

  “Glad?” His eyes darken as I watch. I haven’t seen him this angry since Kolya almost killed me. “I think that potion of yours has addled your head.”

  I laugh, tasting the bitterness of all the tears I cried last night on my tongue. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters.” His hands close on my arms, lifting me to my feet as he gets to his. “By Odin’s eye, you—”

  Georg looks down at the watch in my hand. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” There is a pounding in my head, too loud for me to hear anything. Slowly, Georg releases me, the anger draining from his face, his brows drawn tight.

  He tugs at his beard. “I heard ticking. Again. Didn’t you?”

  “No.” I don’t tell him about the pounding in my head.

  “Rhythm, cadence,” he mutters to himself. “These things can be a way to harness magic. Se— This witch I know—”

  My fingers close around the watch, knuckles going white as the edge cuts into my hand, but Georg doesn’t seem to notice, his expression far away.

  “—her kind uses simple rhymes to gather and cast magic. Naiads have been known to use song. Hell, even satyrs use pipes sometimes.”

  “But what does any that have to do with me and Papa’s watch?” I say impatiently.

  I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep staring at my clenched fingers.

  “I think your father was trying to teach you to control magic with this watch. I don’t think they were counting games, Alice, I think they were lessons.”

  Startled into raising my head, I find those golden brown eyes gauging my reaction. Except I don’t know how to react to this.

  “Lessons in magic?” I say, my head aching. “I can’t use magic, remember? I’m human.”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why the Master choose you? Why he took you away from your family?”

  My face goes hot. “Of course, I did. I begged him to tell me.” More than once. Nothing swayed him. The first thing I learned in Niflheim was that the Master didn’t answer questions. “He never gave me a clue.”

  “I have an idea about that.” Georg nods at my satchel. “I think those potions the Master gave you were a way to corral your power. Fence it in until he figured out how to use it. Use you.” His voice carries that steely edge again, but I barely notice.

  “What power?” He’s not making any sense. “Any power was in the potions, not me.”

  “But they’re not potions, Alice. It’s just moonshine in the bottles. Alcohol.”

  “I see.” My lips feel numb. “Like margaritas.”

  Georg goes stock-still, only his eyes move, searching mine. “Is that why you left? Because I tricked you?”

  I suck in a breath. He’s not even bothering to deny it. “That was part of it,” I whisper.

  He leans his head back against the tree, closing his eyes. Above us the branches rustle softly in a light breeze that carries the sweet hum of the waterfalls by the castle. But it all sounds tinny and unreal, like the low thumping in my head. “It was a shitty thing to do,” he says finally. “But sometimes a king has to do shitty things. I needed to know you weren’t hiding anything.”

  My chest is aching. “Your mistake. It wouldn’t have even occurred to me to hide something from you. But I guess I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Georg winces. “Alice—”

  “Don’t.” I lift the hand with the watch. “Just tell me what you meant about my father, and the potions and this.”

  Georg runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands in frustration. “Do you know what a conduit is?”

  Now he’s really not making sense. I raise my eyebrows. “It’s a kind of pipe that carries water.”

  “Maybe that’s what it is in the human world. In the fairytale world it’s someone who can carry magic. Someone who doesn’t have magic of their own, but can…hold it for awhile. Use it, temporarily.”

  The implication is clear. “You’re saying that I’m this…conduit.”

  He nods.

  “And that’s why he wanted me?”

  “I think so. Conduits are very rare, and extremely powerful.”

  “Powerful?” I try to laugh, but it comes out half a sob. “Is this another trick?”

  With a growl, Georg gets to his feet. “Alice—"

  “Enough of this, and enough of you,” I snap, backing away. “Just leave me alone. I want to go home.” My heel catches in the heavy twisted roots and I start to fall.

  “Bullshit,” he bites out. “Stay, Alice, and I will show you just how much.”

  .

  “I don’t understand about all these forms of magic. You’re a bruin and Konstantin is an elemental. Agatha mentioned witches. What’s the difference?”

  He leans back against the tree, then pats the grass next to him. I stare at the spot, then back at him. Slowly I lower myself to the ground opposite his position, folding my legs under the long golden skirts. His eyes narrow.

  “Magic is magic, Alice. Natural, witch, elemental. We like to use insignificant differences to separate ourselves, but in the end, it’s all just energy. It’s the way it’s accessed that is unique. Witches use the energy between living things, they harness it with their rhymes, then reform and release it. Vampires drain magic from other creatures. Elementals access the magic within themselves, according to the strengths they were born with, though they can expand their powers to encompass other elements. What we call natural magic users, like naidads, dryads and nymphs, also use gifts they were born with, according to their race. Their energy grows when they are in their natural habitat.”

  “And shifters?”

  “Our energy comes from within and without as well. For bruins, the strength of our animal half is tied to the land, and Odin gave us the power to heal the land as well. It’s a duality of sp
irit, you could say.”

  I try to wrap my head around that. “So, if the land is strong, the bruins are strong?”

  “Hmm. And if the bruins are strong the land is strong.”

  “Is that why they fear humans so much?”

  His eyes narrow. “Partially, yes. Humans weaken the land. For thousands of years, we’ve been able to counteract those negative effects, but the last couple centuries, it’s been getting harder. Bruins get ill.”

  “Like Samuel?” I say softly.

  He nods. “It takes its toll, in the sleeping sickness, less cubs being born, fewer places where we can shift openly and without fear of discovery.”

  “No wonder they hate me.”

  His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close. “You are not responsible for the collective sins of your people.”

  “I don’t believe it, there’s nothing special about me.”

  “You are special to me,” he snaps. “Stay, Alice, and I will show you just how much.”

  “How do you shift? What is it like, to be your bear?”

  He pulls back to look down at me. “You understand that he is me, and I am him?”

  I nod. “I do, but—”

  “But what?”

  “There are differences.”

  A thick eyebrow lifts. “Explain.”

  I press my lips together. “Well, you both make me feel safe—treasured even—”

  “Because you are,” Georg says softly.

  My cheeks heat. “What I mean is, there are times when you are a bear, right? But you’re still mostly you—human you. Other times, he is in charge. I can feel it. He barely speaks,” I grin up at him, “except in grunts and snarls. There is a wildness there, and your eyes even change. It’s scary, but it’s also not. He doesn’t scare me.”

  “And the human side?” The question is low in my ear, but I can sense his intensity. Sure enough, when I look up, Georg’s eyes are dark.

  “That’s more complicated.” I swallow. “I guess like humans are more complicated, right? We think too much, instead of trusting our instincts.”

  He stares at me, so long and so hard, I start to get nervous.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Except, you’d make one hell of a bruin, Alice Liddell.” Shaking his head, he tilts my head up with a finger.

  “You still haven’t told me about shifting?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, he is so much bigger than you, how do you become him without being torn apart?”

  He chuckles, the warm rumble of it tickling my skin along with his beard.

  “I’m not sure I can explain it to a human.” Georg’s hand remains on my chin, strong and gentle at the same time. “Maybe it’s a bit like—when you first came back here. To Midgard. And you felt the sun on your face after all those years in the mist.” My breath catches as he continues to hold my gaze. “I could see you, sucking it all in. And that feeling, it was almost too much, right? Like somehow you were a part of it all, the sun shining down, the grass between your toes, the earth and even the air itself. Bigger than the skin you’re in, but somehow still yourself as well?” My heart is pounding. I know what he means.

  “It felt like I couldn’t contain it all,” I say, when he goes silent. “Like the joy was just going to make me explode.”

  He taps my nose. “And there it is. A human steps back from that joy, a bruin embraces it.”

  “So you just…let yourself explode?”

  Another chuckle. “In a matter of speaking, Alice, yes.”

  “Teach me.”

  She gets to her feet, looking tired and dirty and fiercer than I’ve ever seen her.

  “I’m no

  “You know more than me

  “Your magic fixed it,’ he breathes.

  “Teach me this, too.”

  “I can’t.” His breathing is unsteady and that shakes me, too. But I’m feeling reckless.

  “Why?”

  “It’s wrong, pushing you too fast. You don’t even—Fuck, Alice.”

  “Please.” I whisper against his lips.

  “It’s wrong,” he says again, even as I shake my head. “But I don’t fucking care.”

  In the next heartbeat, I’m trapped between hard trunk of the tree and the hardness that is Georg.

  “Breath, Alice.”

  “I can’t.”

  I smile against her lips and move my hand again. “It’s easy.” I tease.

  14

  A half hour later we’re in the castle kitchens. Georg barked one order and every servant in the place vanished. I’m beginning to wonder about that title he says is in flux. Not very long after that, he slides a plate in front of me.

  Eggs, bacon, some crispy potatoes and a side of juicy, red tomatoes sliced thick.

  He made this. Quickly, efficiently and with far more skill than I could ever duplicate. I stare from him to my plate in amazement. “Bruins can cook?”

  He smiles. “You’ll find bruins do most things well.”

  His suede-soft voice has me swallowing hard before looking down at my eggs. “Well, um. These certainly look good.”

  I cross my legs against the ache between them and his teeth snap together with an audible click. “Just eat, Alice.”

  My cheeks are hot as I tuck in. It’s good. Not nearly as good as what we shared in the woods but delicious. A shiver works its way down my spine as I remember the way he tasted. Georg inhales sharply, but I keep my eyes on my food and eat faster.

  Despite living in a sexual vacuum and the irritatingly incomplete descriptions in the books I’ve read, I do know what happens between a woman and a man.

  For one thing, Itzel explained it to me years ago. I’m not sure if the Master put her up to it or not, but her description was adequate, if brusque. And there were animals in the woods of Niflheim. That act is pretty much the same between all creatures, real or imagined. My imagination has always been exceptionally vivid and I’ve put it to good use where sex is concerned.

  Better use since I’ve met Georg.

  I catch him watching me across the table. His eyes are dark and intent, and so knowing it makes me gulp. “All done,” I say, forcing a smile.

  He gets to his feet at once, clearing our plates without a word.

  A moment later he surprises me by coming to my side of the table and leaning against it. He puts a hand under my chin, lifting it again like he did in the woods.

  “You won’t leave the castle again?”

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  His fingers tighten. “I meant what I said, Alice.”

  “I know you did,” I say carefully. “But maybe I expect too much.” Because I expect them to be like him. “I don’t know much about people. Or bruins.” I try a smile, but it fades at the darkening expression on his face.

  “You’ve every right to expect kindness.” A hint of his bear creeps into that already rumbly voice. I love when I can hear them both.

  “You can’t make people like me,” I counter. “Perhaps I’m not so very likable.” I shrug and force a laugh. “How would I know?”

  “Trust me. You are extremely likeable.” The fierceness in his tone sends a happy, tickly buzz into my chest. “This is them. This stupid, stubborn insistence on seeing humans as less.”

  Maybe Georg got done with his meeting sooner than he thought.

  It’s not Georg.

  Instead, a tall, imposing woman with a familiar, almost regal bearing pushes into my room. She’s dressed in a dark plum jacket that she’s already unbuttoning before the door shuts behind her. “Fall comes early in these mountains,” she announces. “I’d forgotten.”

  I nod, though I’ve no idea what is normal for these mountains or not.

  “I’m Georg’s aunt. Agatha.” She unwinds a scarf from long blond hair, eyeing me with an expression I can’t interpret.

  “Oh. I’m pleased to meet you.” I hold out a hand. She sniffs, but takes it firmly.

&nb
sp; “Hmm.” She looks me up and down. “I’m not sure I can say the same. My nephew does have a propensity for highly unsuitable women.”

  When I gape at her, she only lifts an eyebrow. “After the witch, I thought anyone would be an improvement.” She sniffs again. “As usual, Georg managed to surprise me.”

  The insult stings, but not as much as the mention of the witch.

  She hangs her coat over a chair and gives me a shrewd look. “Don’t expect me to spill any details. If he hasn’t told you, it’s not my place to. I’m not here to gossip.”

  As if I would ask her. I deliberately look back down at my book. “Then why are you?”

  “Since no one else cares to spend time with you and because Georg will be otherwise occupied for the next week, the king suggested I look after you.”

  “I don’t need a warden.”

  “Yes, Georg told me you had one already.”

  “He did?” I lower the book. “What else did he tell you?”

  “That you need to learn about magic. I’m sure tutor a more palatable role for both of us than warden.”

  It is. And it makes me happy Georg intends to keep his promise to help, but I am not sure this intimidating woman knows the meaning of the word.

  “Do you know anything about where you came from?” she says crisply. “Georg mentioned England, but you speak Russian fluently enough.”

  “I do?” I stare at her, puzzled.

  She lifts her eyebrows. “Obviously. I’ve been speaking it since I walked through the door. It is the primary language of the court. Many here use Old Norse as well. English is less common at Hearthstone. Georg and I speak it fluently, of course. I assume that’s why he didn’t notice anything unusual, he spoke what he expected you to understand, and everyone else likely followed suit.” She leans forward, watching me closer. “Have there been any conversations you haven’t been able to follow since you’ve been here? Even ones that weren’t directed at you?”

  “No.”