Throne of Scars (22 page)

Cosia shuddered and chuckled. “It is true,” she answered. “Of course it is true. Some svartalfs and dverger, and jotuns and dragons joined Hel in her war.
Medusa
, their own sister did as well. But I risked death and joined Euryale to gain power under her. I would have no mother to lord over me. Yes, yes. I was a naughty child. I knew they competed with each other as well and perhaps one day would have been enemies and gods might have helped me sit on the seat you occupy. We
all
know it. Mock me no more. I wanted the throne.” Silence. The nobles were looking on with morbid fascination, probably waiting to see Cosia’s head leave her shoulders.

And mine soon after.

Cosia went on. “But Euryale is
dead,
Mother. Euryale is gone, and now I want to come home. I’ve got nothing left out there. All the plans are dust, Euryale is dead, and I’ll serve Stheno under you. Or not at all. You send me away, or keep me. I am tired of it.”

Eris nodded, her snakes agitated. “I sense you have suffered much. You are not what you were, once. There is something about you. Something is lacking. I wonder if it is only your pride and ambition that is missing?”

She was right in that,
I thought. Yet, not fully. Clearly her ambition was there, since she was attempting a Ruugatha, but there was something missing in the bitch. Throne she wanted, but she was not the thing of passion she had once been. She was a pale shadow. She was even determined to see Shannon’s plan through.
Perhaps,
I added in my head. No matter what happened, I might die in her hands. She needed me, my surprising skills, and used my desperation.
Never trust Cosia
.

But I had no choice.

“I am what I am,” Cosia said softly. “I am tired of it, as I said. Exhausted. I need calm and rest.”

Eris was nodding. “There is an odd silence in your once turbulent soul. And you are tired, yes. I see that.”

She’s still a bitch, though
, I thought, but kept looking forward.

“I’m ready to settle down, Mother,” she admitted. “I’ve lost much.
Too
much. I’ll raise offspring, contemplate on my past, and sit in a shadowed corner until you know what to do with me.” She was silent for a moment and went on. “Unless you know it already.”

Eris was nodding, her face turned my way. “Very well. Stay and rest. I accept your consort, Cosia. A human it is, and some are resourceful, clever. Others are brave. Didn’t he brave Svartalfheim for your promises? Brave, brave. Strong. We often see them in the Chain Tents and rarely in our beds, but perhaps you’ll start a new fashion, eh? He might be entertaining. He looks powerful. Though,” she muttered, “there is something off about him as well. Illness?”

“He is overwhelmed by Svartalfheim,” Cosia answered for me. “And he is wounded. He’ll live.”

Lies,
I thought.
What in Hel’s name did Kiera infect me with? Why?

“So, we’ll let him rest as well,” Eris said. “After.”

After?
Shit.

Cosia gave me a long look, and there was a warning in that look. “So be it.”

Eris pondered and gazed at me. I felt my skin crawl at that long, black look, and knew she was contemplating something I would find disagreeable. “What say you?”

The question was addressed to me.

I swallowed, and took a step forward. All six jotuns moved, growing a bit, subtly drawing wonderful weapons of many kinds, the most unsettling being a huge mace.
How in Hel’s name did Cosia expect me to survive an attack on Eris? Perhaps when they squatted down for a shit?
“I love your daughter like I loved my mother,” I blurted, then shook my head with horror, and tried to retract the mistake. “No, not like my mother. I mean like a lover. Wait—”

There was an awkward silence. The nobles stared at me as if they had seen a god vomit. Cosia’s face shone with heat, and I realized she would rip my head off, given half a chance.

Eris grinned. She laughed, in a sort of a dry wheezing way. “Love?” she wondered. “I know lust, but you speak of love? Love for Cosia?”

“I was just being—”

“Kiss her,” Eris snarled.

I froze. Cosia got up, and grasped me by my armor. She pulled me to her, and before I could say a word, her lips, cold as ice burrowed into my mouth. I tried to return the kiss, but she basically sucked my face in, and so I just stood there, wishing it would soon end.

She let go of me and turned to her mother. “He is after power and position, Mother. Well you know it. He won’t lie to you again.”

“I won’t lie again,” I said, and noticed my lip was bleeding.

“Will you bless us, Mother?” she asked.

“Yes,” she chortled. “I’ll bless you. Copulate, daughter, and make us more similarly powerful daughters. And perhaps, if we are lucky, your offspring will be as amusing as he is. But first, the traditions,” she said and waved back the jotuns, and pointed a finger on her left and front. There was a seat there, made of gold. “I haven’t been amused so in ages. Love? Gods above! The people here, males especially, know better than to speak of love, I think. You are not only a fool, but an amusing one, I accept you as the consort.”

Cosia bowed and moved away. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Sit with the quests, daughter. I’ll think of something for you to do tomorrow, when we convene for the war council. We are marching later in the day.” She looked at me with her dark, glinting eyes. “You, sit down. I pointed at the seat, didn’t I?”

I stepped forward, a jotun stepped forward and took away my sword with a smooth wrist movement. He pushed me to the seat, and Eris nodded as Yris came forth with a goblet of wine. I sat there, uncomfortable and too big for the chair, and noticed many dark eyes gazing at me with odd smiles. The Queen was right next to me and she smelled of flowers. It was a nervous mood that had pervaded the feast, and I had no idea what they expected would happen.

Eris leaned to me. “You seem like the type to survive most anything, Ulrich.” She took the goblet, mulled it, muttered something and handed it to me. “See if you survive our wine.”

I hesitated, then braved myself, and took the goblet.
Arrogant and brave
, they said. I drank the wine in one smooth motion. Then I regretted not having some restrain. It was hot and terribly spicy, and yet still left me with cold shivers. I coughed, and wiped the droplets that had spilled on my beard, sure I’d notice the hair and skin falling off. I felt drunk immediately, and that oddly comforting feeling gave me confidence.

Mad confidence.

I winked at her.

I smiled like I would at a maiden in a market, and leaned on her throne. I nearly fell out of the seat, and a jotun saved me with a painful shove. I ignored the loss of face and spoke. “I try,” I said mirthfully. “I try to steer around in this sea of woe. But I’ve also gotten myself into much needless trouble.”

She chuckled and placed a strong hand on my shoulder. The white snakes flowed around my arm, licking gently, and I thought of poor Ittisana. “My daughter
is
a dangerous one. It is natural she desires offspring, and she knew how I’d feel if she chose some mighty elf or similar. I’d not have approved.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why?” she murmured. “Because I know she still hopes I will die. If not in war, then a victim of Ruugatha. An elf or a svartalf in the night? I would not take the risk. Magic is magic and while engaged thus, a consort might easily kill even me.”

“Engaged thus …” I muttered, trying to focus.

She stroked my cheek. “But you have no magic. And you look handsome and strong,” she said thickly, and waved her hand. The goblet was filled and I brought it to my lips. The wine was really getting into my head, and I laughed stupidly, though I wasn’t sure why. The plan was working, a part of my muddled brain decided. She thought I was harmless.

Should I tell her the truth?

Should I let her in on the secret? She might help me?
The thought hammered at my skull, and I fought it desperately. I
wanted
to trust her. And yet, I managed to keep my mouth shut. She was
Stheno’s
servant. She would not help me, never me.

Gods above.
Keep smiling and quiet.

“Yes, Queen,” I said instead. “You feel like I’m someone you can trust … relax around.”

“Trust?” she laughed, rising her eyebrows. “You were right to change that word into something far more suitable. So perhaps I shall relax. That’s what the tradition demands, anyway.”

Tradition
.
What the hell did she mean?
I kept smiling and drinking. I sneaked her a long look. She was a beautiful female, and I thought I was growing accustomed to the snakes, even. Her eyes kept turning in Cosia’s direction, and I knew she was far from relaxed. Despite her formal acceptance of Cosia, something was still being decided in that head. She was not unreasonable, seemed fairly … nice, at least for a gorgon. I risked interrupting her thoughts and spoke to her.

“Is the land safe? Ban and Stheno in war, and there is a dragon on the loose,” I said.

“We know how to keep safe,” she muttered. “I keep away from wars that are needless. Though soon we must join the madness. The Masked One will make a mighty battle out of it. But he will fall.”

“He is a First Born?” I asked her. “Surely it will be too hard?” Then I remembered the dragon was not, but I had managed to get her piqued.

She shrugged her shoulders and stopped thinking about Cosia. She patted my cheek, and caressed it and I felt there was something not quite right about the gesture. I began to feel uncomfortable with the high, ancient gorgon. “A dragon
can
be killed. Anything, even a First Born can be killed if you use enough power. A wounded, tired dragon can be killed quite easily, in fact. But someone like The Masked One? A dragon in the prime of his power? Holding Gjallarhorn? Having at least three cities under its claw? Planning for something evil? Not so easy, perhaps. A dragon is worth a legion in battle. Dragons are strange creatures. Some are selfish, others kind, even, but the Masked One? The one who joined Hel in her war and allied with the jotuns and dverger mercenaries? He is out to take the Throne of Scars. I am sure of it. Stheno had not told me what they negotiate about, but obviously it involves the Throne. It is his goal, and why he wants the Scepter. He offers Stheno the Horn, but Stheno would have to leave Svartalfheim, and Stheno will never give up her throne. Never.”

“Why does the dragon want the Scepter?” I asked.

She grinned. “The Scepter? Does a human know something about it? A human of Aldheim? How would he?”

“I know nothing, but I assumed—” I began.

She shook her head and I went quiet. She looked hard and long at Cosia. “Did she fight well?”

I murmured. “She is a good fighter.”

“Did she fight against you?” she asked with amusement.

“She fought well against us. Against Shannon,” I said, and realized I should stop drinking the wine. It was probably magical. That’s why I wanted to trust her.

“This Shannon is the Queen of the Dead. Hand of Hel?” she inquired and turned towards me. “Cosia fought against you two?” The room was spinning crazily.

I struggled. It was very hard to resist her question. Lying was like a physical battle. I realized there was indeed a spell on the wine. I fought my tongue, but couldn’t stop myself from looking into her eyes. She placed a hand on my thigh and moved close. I stared at the hand, and resisted the urge to try to remove it.
She’d kill me.
Play along
.

“You fought for Shannon?” she asked. “I sense you knew her.”

I couldn’t lie. “I fought for Shannon,” I whispered.

“You were
not
with the elves,” she stated.

I shook my head, feeling Cosia’s eyes on me. “Shannon changed. She died, and then, I don’t know what she became. I don’t trust her.” That was the truth, but the next such admission would make it very clear I never left her side and in that panicked moment, I reached over to kiss the Queen.

Her lips met mine. Her eyes stayed open, her face was shocked and I feasted on her lips.

There was a silence in the hall. The jotuns were still, their eyes incredulous. Cosia and the two sisters stood still, trying not to attract the attentions of the Queen.

She didn’t budge. Her lips were hot, and when I decided I should use my tongue, she reacted. She moved with surprise, and pressed forward, fully into the kiss. When I broke off, she put a hand on my hand. Her dark eyes were burning with desire. “Let us go, then.”

“Queen?” I murmured, feeling like a fool. “I am sorry—”

She smiled. “I thought this would be duty. Traditions make demands on us, and I am the head of the family. All the consorts spend their first night with me. That is the way, and has always been. And I think I’ll not find this tedious.”

I looked at Cosia. She had known this. She had been afraid I’d refuse. She expected me to surprise the Queen in bed.
If
it was a bed they used. Did they even care for privacy? They might do it right there, in the midst of the jotuns, and Cosia expected me to fry her skull in the heat of sex.
Gods, help me
, I thought, but then it was too late to mourn, as Eris pulled me up. She was a head shorter than I was, and yet she pulled me powerfully after her towards a long staircase. Two of the jotuns followed us, and I begged to gods she’d not invite them into her room, if that was where we were headed to.