Siren Slave (34 page)

“What did Woden say about this? Any of what’s happened to his daughter, Balder?”

“He invited me to the dinner.”

“And?”

“And?” Balder spread his hands in confusion, almost hitting Siegfried with the ever-present lyre. “I’ll tell you more when we’re on our way.”

He shook his head and returned to say his goodbyes to Freya. He wasn’t just going to walk away. He found her still in the tent, glaring at the knees folded against her chest. Hecate gave him a knowing nod and took her leave.

“Freya, come here.” When she stood in front of him, he didn’t touch her. “Stay here. No, sleep in the captain’s quarters on the
River Queen.”
He knew she would explore the captain’s quarters, discover all the ways he had to punish a lusty little slave. Surely that would make her change her mind about him.
“
If there’s a problem, my men will keep you safe. I’ll be going for a bit. Whatever you do, try to stay close to the water. You’re with Morrigan, and I believe she can protect you, too.”

“I don’t understand.”

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “We’re still working together. We both have our vendettas with the Romans. I’m only going to a dinner.” He gave her a half-smile. “I’ll bring you back some soup.” And a new pair of shoes.

She gave him a stiff nod and sat again. He took the old pair of shoes with blood stains, because she deserved better.

****

Freya was not pleased. Where was this dinner? Who was attending? The dinner sounded dangerous. It had to be. One didn’t live in a somewhat safe haven and companions to attend a social event unless it was important. Why was he not bringing his protector? Did he not need her now that he was fey?

She hadn’t gone to the
River Queen,
not yet. She’d wanted to see Siegfried’s quarters with him at her side. It would hurt too much to be there, surrounded by possibilities that would never be.

Morrigan was still watching her. The woman had made small talk, asking things like whether or not Freya was happy. Freya thought that a dumb question before, and now she realized Morrigan had only been trying to stall her so she didn’t hear what Balder was saying to Siegfried.

“Where is he going?” Freya asked as soon as Morrigan had taken two steps.

“To a dinner,” Morrigan said, taking a seat. “I’ve sent for a meal. You must be hungry.”

“No, I’m not hungry. I want to know where Siegfried went and why this sounds dangerous. Where is the dinner? Who will be there? And where are my shoes?” She’d already looked under every single pillow in the tent.

“The dinner is in the Otherworld, and many fey will be in attendance,” Morrigan said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Oh, no. That is not the end of it.” Did Morrigan really think hiding information would be that easy? “You think I’ll lose control of my powers. Siegfried explained that to me, at least. Why is that a worry if I have Siegfried?”

“What else did he tell you?” Morrigan’s voice became sharp.

“About the unicorn prophecies, what they mean—”

“Don’t you have any questions for me on that?”

“No. Siegfried explained it all. But I do have questions. I want to know why you couldn’t have waited? Couldn’t have walked away and given me a few minutes?” She didn’t give Morrigan a chance to respond. “I was about to tell him the truth. About me being Swan, about me being the one to give him information to stop the wedding, about how I really feel about him. Because he thought he was being honorable, when all he was really doing was being stupid and stubborn. He thinks I deserve better than him, but he is what I want. That’s when you insisted I wait.”

Morrigan took a sip of wine. “Siegfried doesn’t trust easily. Do you think that’s the best tactic?”

“If I keep lying, he’s not going to have a reason to trust me. Instead, he ended what we had.” She fisted her hands in the filmy yellow material. “No more romance. No more kisses or any of that. He felt guilty. But no, you couldn’t wait a few minutes. It had to be right then, because Siegfried can’t be a little late for a dinner with some idiot who spends his time twirling around in the snow half-naked with a spear. Because prancing around in a blizzard with a phallic symbol isn’t pathetic or anything.”

“I’m sorry, Freya. I really am.” Morrigan hugged her tight, surprising Freya. “We have time while they are gone. I’m going to help you figure out what to do. You and Siegfried must be together. You were meant for each other.”

“Huh?” Now she really was confused.

“He didn’t tell you about that part of Enbarr’s prophecies?”

“No. He didn’t explain the prophecies specifically. He was distracted. We’re working as partners,
platonic
partners, Morrigan. Do you really believe in these prophecies?”

“Enbarr’s? Always. It doesn’t mean the two of you will be together, of course, just that you belong together, so we really do need to repair this damage. If you feel the truth…” Morrigan looked…guilty? She turned her head away. When she looked back at Freya, her eyes were glowing red, but Freya couldn’t tell her emotion. If anything, the eye glow was inconvenient because any emotion that might be betrayed in one’s eyes was swallowed by the light. “How would you feel if I told you that, even though your mother’s been absent, she’s going to help you resolve this Siegfried issue?”

Freya shrugged. “Better late than never?” She wanted to say more, how she really didn’t want her mother to suddenly be involved in this matter. What did Hecate know about love?

“I’m here for you now, daughter,” Morrigan said.

Morrigan—no,
Hecate
pretended to be someone else to lie to her? She took a long look at Hecate, who only stared right back at her, waiting for some kind of reaction. How did she not see? Freya had spent enough time in front of the mirror to have recognized the angular chin, the dark eyes. This was the mighty Hecate, the woman who had given Freya a legacy of turmoil, had slept with the idiot who thought it brilliant to wear a loincloth in an ice storm, had never come to explain anything to her daughter until now.

Instead of running into her mother’s arms, instead of being surprised or furious, she asked, “Why does everyone feel the need not to tell me who they are? It isn’t as if I don’t know how to keep a secret. Remember? Swan?” She jabbed a finger at her chest. “Are Balder and Hedwig who they say they are?”

Hecate raised a brow. “No one else has lied to you. I’m…sorry. I did this so others wouldn’t know who I was. Your men, Siegfried’s men. I should have told you, but I was…afraid of your reaction.”

Freya tilted her head. Hecate was afraid? The woman who could turn dragon or bring the dead back to life was afraid of Freya screaming at her or throwing a temper tantrum? To be fair, Freya was also a dragon and she was tempted to send a few lightning bolts at the woman, singe the serenity right out of her.

But, Hecate was
here.
Hecate had watched her, taken an interest. As Morrigan, she had made some of her reasoning for her absence clear. “You did actually come for me. You stayed and helped get my friends back. That does make up for a lot of things, you know. I don’t not understand why you did what you did. I did pay attention to the texts. Only, Woden could’ve been involved. But that’s not your fault. From everything you’ve said, not to mention all the murals I’ve seen of him mostly undressed to fight things, he sounds like a lost cause.”

“Let’s not talk about your father,” Hecate said, eyes actually tearing. “I want to talk to you about…anything. Ask me whatever you want, daughter. And let’s figure out how best to handle the Siegfried problem. I have spent years delivering texts to Siegfried, watching him, keeping him alive for you. This was not in my plan to have him run.”

Freya gave her mother a smile and a hug. Life was too uncertain, even an immortal life, for grudges.

****

Odilia was glad to see the Beautiful One in her mirror again. Perhaps he would resolve her issue. “I’ve seen Freya in the mirror she took with her from Folkvang.” A small mirror Freya had kept tucked in her bosom for the most part. However, there were times it had shown more, like glowing tines before it was covered in blood. She’d left it on the floor of a hut a few nights ago, revealing a most disgusting scene to Odilia. Lust was for weak-minded cattle. “Though that mirror is often in the dark.”

“I am growing weary of you mortals failing me. Why can you not go after her if you know where she is? Your people have human metal.”

“There is a strange mist clinging to the wood around that rock. Anyone I’ve sent has become lost. Or they’ve been killed by something with red eyes. Those that escaped couldn’t see a thing, only two glowing red orbs and blood. The Mist Demon, they’re calling it.”

In the corner of the chamber, Julia shuddered at the mention of the creature. Some of Merrick’s men had brought the sobbing woman here. But she’d had no useful information, other than Freya somehow having some sort of storm abilities. What gods had Freya contracted with to earn such powers? Nerthus? From Julia’s explanation, Freya had brought up Nerthus several times. “I believe she has the assistance of the Sea Witch.”

“This I already know. The Sea Witch is a foolish whore of little consequence.” The background behind the Beautiful One was bouncing, which told her he was on his way somewhere. She saw a white leather seat behind his shoulders and a black wall painted with gold flowers behind his head. “Give your guards word to allow any visitors to see you late tonight. They are not to draw their weapons on your visitor. He’ll have a special potion for you.”

“Thank you.” Odilia bowed her head.

“Do not fail me this time. We were all unprepared for her powers. Next time, she will not be so lucky.”

****

Valhalla, the name of Woden’s hall, had eight letters. Was that enough to counteract the six letters in Asgard and in Balder’s name? Oh, gods, Hedwig’s name had six letters, too. Three sixes. Three, an odd number. Tripling a six was always bad.

Hedwig had insisted Siegfried’s clothing was ill-fitting and needed to be replaced. He could not argue that point. After his transformation, his clothing no longer had the loose fit conducive to being fleet-footed and agile. She had fashioned a green cap for him that almost made it appear as if his antlers were some sort of ornamentation upon it. A pair of brown breeches concealed his legs, yet fit very tightly. He’d wondered about that, then caught her staring at his ass a few times. A light green tunic of sunlight upon leaves was belted at the waist with brown leather. The V of the tunic dipped almost to his naval, but he did not have time to argue.

His favorite piece had to be his cape—a weaving of gloaming through leaves, so it sparkled gold one way, red another, then every shade of green imaginable. It even included leaves. Hedwig had said, “If you’re going to be the Forest Lord, do it right.”

Siegfried hadn’t even gone into Balder’s hall, Bleidabrik, set high upon the snow-covered mountains on the outskirts of Asgard, because Balder had complained that there were three dwarves working at forges, the Brisings, who would whine that they had no weapons or anything at all to make. He had given Balder a very specific order for the dwarves, a very special piece of jewelry.

He had spent his time wandering through the stone-walled city surrounding Bleidabrik. It was filled with shops run by humans, most selling fey items. These were the humans sacrificed to Balder. Like the fey he’d met, Balder had no desire for such sacrifices, yet humans insisted upon it.

The fey in the throngs were easily noted, wearing their shimmering garments, flowers, and jewels in their hair. Some had the appendages of animals, like wings or horns. The humans wore mainly leathers and fur. Asgard was a cold place, its wooden and glass store fronts dusted with snow. The air smelled of pine and cold, mingling with the perfumes of the passersby.

The shops carried a myriad of items he had not expected—potions, enchanted weapons, toys that danced and sang, tapestries with moving pictures, and a variety of equipment that he would enjoy. It made him regret leaving Freya. The toys the fey created for such a purpose opened up new possibilities the two could have explored.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hedwig asked, turning away from the bracelet vendor who ogled her breasts. “You look miserable.”

“Nothing, Hedwig.” He would not speak to the Sea Witch about this.

“I’m assuming you and Freya had a fight, because I saw that tent flap open and she did not look happy. Why not just talk through it with her when you return?” The vendor was still trying to talk to Hedwig, holding out a bracelet of beads that matched her hair. “Not that I know about this stuff, because
I’m not the relationship type.”
She said the last words loudly, looking directly at the vendor.

“But I could make you happy, Hedwig,” the vendor insisted. “You like the jewelry.”

“You made me happy for a night. Any more than that and I’ll get bored.” She turned away and walked to Siegfried. “You know, Freya’s been going through a lot. So, if she got moody or angry, that’s probably why. She’ll probably feel bad—”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want. Or give it to you,” the vendor pressed.

“No, I don’t want to take it from you,” Hedwig said loudly. “But if anyone else wants to buy it for me… Oh, I’m out of wine.”

“It wasn’t that,” Siegfried said as a throng of fey men gathered around Hedwig with offers of drink. He raised his voice as she elevated her chin to listen to him. “In fact, I think she’ll be happy by the time we return.”

“What did you do?” Hedwig demanded. Holding several bottles of the wine she’d just been given under her arms, she shoved aside some of the men.

He had the sense the Sea Witch was not going to leave him alone. Maybe, just maybe, the commitment-fearing Hedwig would introduce Freya to other men who’d be more gentle than he.

“I have given Freya her freedom, or some of it, what I could,” he said, then added, “I no longer have her serving me in a personal manner.”

Three bottles of white wine fell from Hedwig’s arms. She tried to grab them, but her heel caught on a loose stone. The wine smashed to the ground, and Hedwig’s shoe broke.