Fate of the Gods 01 - Forged by Fate (10 page)

“You know Reu well?” Eve asked.

Hannah smiled, her eyes warm. “He helped many of us, when we were made.”

“He confuses me.”

Sarah laughed. “Everything is confusing in the beginning.”

Eve frowned, her gaze going back to the men, and Reu. They were taking turns throwing long sticks. Every so often cheers went up. They clapped each other on the back and laughed together, the way the women did. All but Adam. Sometimes his lips curved, but his gaze was always hard, and none of them touched him. Because he was Lord. That was what they called him when they bowed and served and scraped.

“How long does the beginning last?” Eve asked.

Hannah’s slim fingers curled gently around Eve’s wrist. Her hands were delicate in a way Adam’s would never be, but her skin shared the same tones, closer to brown than pink, as if her body had been kissed by the sun. “You’re already doing better than any of us did.”

It was a kindness, Eve thought, this touch. As if Hannah meant to show her she did not have to be like Adam. She could be one of them, included in their laughter, in their games.

“Thank you,” Eve said.

Hannah smiled, and studied her for a moment. Eve thought perhaps she would say something more, but then Adam walked toward them, and Hannah pulled her hand away. She stood up, mumbling something about having work to do, and Sarah went with her.

“Did you enjoy your meal, Eve?” Adam extended a hand to her.

She took his hand reluctantly. “They were very kind to me.”

He pulled her to her feet.
Kind.
“They should be. They’re here to serve you.”
And they should be grateful to do so. Grateful that I keep them to serve. I could have cast them out. Perhaps I still will.

She let go of his hand as quickly as she could without offending him, hating the sound of his other voice in her head, the feeling of his thoughts twisting their way inside her mind.

“Sarah said Seth was going to speak with you about marriage.”

He flashed a smile and put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the caves. “Yes, I’ve been waiting for it.”
He can have her. They can all have each other, now that I have you.
“I expect they won’t be the only ones.”

She walked with him, though she wished he’d drop his hand away. “Why?”

“They were only waiting for me to choose.” Reu watched her, his eyes dark, as they passed by the men. “Now that I have, it is only natural they might do the same.”

Adam led her through the main cave into a tunnel, which opened into a large chamber. Sweet smelling grasses were spread over the stone floor, and two large beds of fronds lay side by side. There was a crevasse in the ceiling that allowed light to filter into the room, but there was no other way out than the way they had come.

“An improvement from the dirt, isn’t it?”

“Should the dirt have bothered me?” She wrapped her arms around herself. There was no safety here. And Adam’s hand burned hot against her back, slipping around her waist and pulling her against him.

“It won’t now.” He turned her to face him and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. Images of the two of them filled her head, their bodies interlocked, moving together in the bed of fronds. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Her heart beat faster, and her breath caught. She closed her eyes against the images, but it didn’t help. They intensified without the backdrop of what her vision told her. Damp skin and too much warmth, his body atop hers, pressing her down. Something uncoiled inside her, and the heat of Adam’s hands spread lower, lower, lower.

“I—I’m not bothered by the others.” Right now, she would have given anything for someone to find them in the cave. To have some need of Adam and call him away.

His hand moved to her cheek. “Open your eyes, Eve.”
I’ll not have you thinking of anything but me.

The images became more powerful. She could feel his hands on her. Smell their sweat and something else mixed with it. Eve struggled to breathe, to separate herself from his thoughts. She looked at him, driven by the desperation to free herself more than his command. His eyes were hard and gray, lit with something she didn’t know, and then his mouth covered hers, crushing and demanding.

She tried to gasp, to pull free, but he only forced his tongue into her mouth as her lips parted and pulled her more tightly against his body. He pressed against her, hard and lean and searing, his thoughts burning behind her eyes, impossible to escape. She sobbed and turned her face away, but his mouth only moved along her jaw instead, his fingers digging painfully into her waist.

She felt his distaste a moment before he shoved her from him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was enough to keep her from stumbling to the floor, but only just.

His eyes raked over her body and his lip curled. “I should’ve had one of the women bathe you first.”

She wiped at her own mouth and face, leaning against the cool stone wall. Her heart still pounded against her chest and her whole body trembled from the loss of his heat.

“Go. Find one of them. Tell them I require them to help you. You taste like sand and dirt, and I want none of it.” He spit into the grasses on the floor and turned away from her.

She didn’t wait for him to ask her again.

Chapter Nine: 985 BC

Thor stood on a wooded hill, looking down on one of the simple fishing villages of his people, of Odin’s people. Would they ever rise to the same potential as the other civilizations he’d seen? The Egyptians. The Assyrians. He grimaced, thinking of all the wars of those nations. He almost wished they wouldn’t. That they might be spared that heartache and live their lives in peace.

Booming laughter was punctuated by the shrill shouts of women. The fields glowed golden with wheat inland, and beyond them, goats and cows grazed peacefully. In the village itself, dogs and children barked and played together outside their huts. He smiled slightly. At least they were happy. Certainly the men seemed to be. He could not be sure of the women, but after spending time with the House of Lions, it was hard to look on any other people without imagining how different things could be for them.

It had been a fruitful visit, to be sure, but he had been forced to stay much longer than he intended among Eve’s people, in order to convince them of his honesty. It was years before they had come to an agreement, and in exchange for the information they had given him, he had promised them good weather, and protection for Eve for as long into the future as the gods remained present in the world. It hadn’t been an opportunity they could refuse, though they took their time about it.

“Thor!” A hand clapped him heavily on the shoulder, and he turned to see Odin. The god’s scarred face was split by a grin. “Baldur was beginning to worry you would not find your way back to us.” Odin chuckled, his eyes, as gray as his beard, crinkling at the corners. “And it goes without saying that your wife has made us all miserable in your absence. Another year and I might have sent her in search of you, just to spare the rest of Asgard.”

Thor frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t for all women to be left to rule their own lives. “I will see her first, of course. I had not anticipated being gone so long, but I believe you will be pleased with everything I have learned.”

“I am always pleased with you, Thor. Come.” Odin’s grip on Thor’s shoulder firmed and the air around them thickened, the view of the village melting into the stone of Asgard, high above the earth. They’d done so much since he’d left. Carefully tended gardens had been built around Yggdrasil and a new crop of golden apples winked between dusky red leaves. His mother’s tree welcomed him home with its bounty.

He took a moment to breathe in the scent of its fruit, like honey and wine, his gaze traveling over the halls that surrounded these central grounds. A building that could only have been Baldur’s work stood beside Odin’s great hall, modest in size, but made of white marble and roofed with shining silver. A smaller
skáli
standing opposite was gilt with gold, dwarfed by a greenhouse behind it which was filled to overflowing with plants from across the earth, all in full flower and heavy with fruits and nuts. Two boars rooted in the dirt of the gardens out front, one with golden bristles, and a pair of tuft-eared cats lounged in the sun by the doorway.

“I see Freyr and Freyja have made themselves comfortable,” Thor said, nodding to the hall. “The others have settled well?”

“As well as they always have. Freyr and Baldur are disappointed that living in the heavens keeps them from the sea, but such is the cost of sharing a world. Better that we keep our safety and our skins,” Odin said. “Go find your wife and assure her that you missed her. The rest will wait until supper.”

Odin slapped Thor’s back and strode off toward his hall without waiting for a response. A raven cawed and swooped at the sight of its master, landing on the stone windowsill nearest the entrance. His father stopped to give orders to one of his Valkyries, and then Odin collected the bird and disappeared through the great silver doors. Thor could already hear the stir in the kitchen as news of his return spread and servants began preparations for the celebration. Odin would not permit anything less than a feast in honor of his first son’s homecoming.

“Sif,” Thor said to himself, wondering what trouble she had caused while he was away. Surely she could not have been too difficult. He had made sure the home he’d built for her was furnished with everything she could possibly desire, and Odin had promised to provide her with anything else she might need.

He turned toward his own home, and followed the stone path around Yggdrasil and Valaskjalf. Sif had planted a garden of her own in front of the cottage, and he smiled to see his goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr, grazing. Thor stopped to let them remember him, and Tanngnjóstr butted his hand with its head, bleating, until he scratched the goat around the curled horns and behind the ear. At least the goats had been some company for Sif in his absence.

He settled the animals and opened the door to the cottage. “Sif!”

The front room was homey, a fire burning low in the hearth, and filled with the things he recognized from their old world. Tapestries she had woven, of his mother’s tree and the old Asgards, hung on the wall. She had found fabrics in bright colors to cover the armchairs he had made, stuffing the cushions with wool.

Thor pushed open the door to the bedroom, a smile on his lips. It was as though she divined his needs, to be waiting for him there. Perhaps one of the Valkyries had sent word while he stood with Odin beneath the tree.

And then he froze, his mind catching up to the sight that greeted him. He felt his eyes burn white, washing all color from the room.

Thor’s hand closed around a war-hammer he did not hold, aching to bring it smashing down on the black-haired head that hovered over his wife’s breasts as she arched her back with a moan. Thunder cracked so loudly the stone foundation shook beneath his feet, and the goats outside began to bleat.

Loki glanced back over his shoulder, a sly grin on his face as Sif cried out with pleasure. The Trickster did not even pause, his eyes glazing as he moaned his own release.

Responding to his fury, dark clouds formed, blotting the sun, which had previously streamed through the windows of the cottage. Loki’s sharp chuckle snapped him free of his paralysis and Thor crossed the room in one long stride. He grabbed the Trickster off Sif’s body by the back of the neck, throwing him through the window. Stone, glass, and wood shattered, leaving a gaping, splintered hole.

Loki still laughed as he picked himself up off the stone-cobbled ground on the other side of the wall. The Trickster smirked and brushed himself off, unashamed by his nakedness, though under the storm clouds his skin had a sallow hue, and the shadows beneath his eyes were so dark he might have worn a polecat’s mask. Thunder rumbled and Thor stalked toward him, unwilling to so much as glance at his wife, sputtering objections and imprecations from the bed.

“What do you expect, Thor, when you leave Sif for centuries to live among humans?”

Thor didn’t trust himself to speak. The sky overhead darkened even further as black clouds swirled over Loki’s head. A single lightning bolt, charged with his hate, was all it would take. Once, Loki might have been his friend, even an uncle in his youth, but those days had ended long ago. It had taken only a single cycle of Ragnarok for Thor to understand the Trickster’s true nature. Jealous and cruel, Loki had been a thorn in his side for millennia, but never had he believed him capable of so base a betrayal.

“Thor!” Sif’s voice distracted him, drawing his attention from the Trickster. “Control yourself!”

He growled and turned back to Loki, even more intent to destroy him, but Sif had given him the moment he needed to slip away. Without a focus for his anger, the thunder boomed and the lightning dissipated between the clouds.

Thor spun to grab his wife by the arm, broken glass crunching beneath his boots. He hauled her bodily from the room, ignoring her squawk of protest. Loki might not be in sight, but he would be lurking, listening, ready to twist the words he heard into lies. When Thor released Sif in the front room of the cottage, she all but fell into one of the armchairs.