Loki (2 page)

Chapter One

Late autumn, 1280, Scotland

Loki Grant opened one eye and the first thought that passed through his mind was:
Who am I
? The strangest thing about that was it was the one question he could not answer. He knew his name, but what else did he know?

He closed his eyes again as pain from his head rippled through him. He reached up with one hand to feel the swelling by his eye and the giant egg on his head. Rolling onto his side, he placed his hands on the cold, hard ground beneath him and pushed up with a roar loud enough to send the few birds left in the Highlands squawking off to another tree.

A voice came from off to his side, a voice he knew and trusted but couldn’t quite place yet.

“How’s the head feel? Like you are daft and have no sense? If so, then you have the right of it. You have no sense at all. How many, or do you not remember?” Logan Ramsay, his uncle, chuckled at him. Actually, Logan wasn’t truly his uncle, but his Aunt Brenna had married into the Ramsay family, and the bonds between the two families were so strong that he considered the man an uncle. Loki managed to turn his head to stare at Logan, who was seated on the log next to him.

Logan held his hand out, offering him a bit of ale from a skin.

Loki took it, groaning again. “Arseholes. Every one of them.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

“When the hell are you going to stop trying to get yourself killed, fool? I’ve taught you better than that. You’re interested in working for the Scottish crown like I do, and I’m happy to teach you. I’d like you to take over some of my jobs so I can spend more time at home with my Gwynie before I die. I’m not getting any younger, but you are not getting any smarter, are you?”

Loki took another slug of the ale before handing it back to his uncle. “How did you know where to find me?”

“People talk. Even reivers. They all talked about the tall fool who thought he could take on five men. When will you learn?”

“The news we heard about my sire was wrong. There was no information to be found about him anywhere near Ayr. The lad who gave us that information must have been daft. I was about to return to the Highlands when the reivers set upon me. I’m practicing everything you’ve taught me, Uncle.”

“Apparently not. I’ve taught you that the most valuable weapon you have is your head, yet you keep getting it beaten. You’ll have no brains left if you keep going on in this manner.”

When a rustling from the forest reached his ears, he jumped up and grabbed for his dagger, though he came up with naught. Logan’s wife, Gwyneth, emerged from the trees a moment later, her boots crunching on the thin layer of snow on the ground. “Leave off, Logan. He’ll have enough pain without you making it worse. Loki, where are you hurt besides your head?”

Loki paced in a circle, moving about awkwardly at first, but then settling into a limp.

“How old are you, lad?” Logan asked, his green eyes narrowing.

“How in hell would I know the answer to that?”

“Dinna rail at me. How old did your mother and father decide you were when they found you and took you in?”

“Seven or eight summers. Would make me twenty and four or five.”

“Well, you look and act like you’re an auld man. You better start using that quick mind of yours or you’ll soon be in trouble. There is no call to lose your head because you could not find your sire. You knew ‘twould not be easy.”

“Enough, Logan. Let him get his bearings before you chew his arse out.” Gwynie made her way over to Loki, carrying a wet linen she’d presumably brought from the creek.

“I do not need it. My thanks.” Loki Grant had two goals in life—to find his true parents and to marry Arabella Lewis. At this point, he faced failure on both fronts. Despite his best efforts, he could not find his sire. Thus he could not prove his worth to Bella’s father, who would not allow his daughter to marry a man of uncertain blood. This trip had been intended for a dual purpose—to begin training to work for the Scottish crown and to search for his sire. This most recent experience had forced him to concede to the impossible. Since he could not measure up to Bella’s father’s standards, he might as well leave the clan and work for the Scottish crown as his aunt and uncle had done for years. But he knew Bella, the love of his life, would not be happy about his decision even though he’d attempted to get her ready for the possibility by telling her this trip was to train for work with the crown.

The truth was he didn’t wish to tell her he’d failed again on obtaining the information necessary to make their marriage possible.

Gwyneth held out the cloth and charged toward him. “I’m cleaning it, whether or not you wish it. You’re not thinking clearly yet. Now hold still.” Gwyneth set to work on him, not speaking during her ministrations. His aunt had the magic intuition of knowing when to speak and when to keep quiet. Her dark leggings and forest green tunic, her favorite colors, almost made her melt into their surroundings. Still as thin as a young lass, she was agile and tough. Whereas most lasses he knew were proficient at needlework, his aunt was a renowned archer and hunter.

Loki did as he was told. He loved his aunt and uncle as much as he loved the rest of his adopted family. His real mother or father had left his life, for whatever reason, too early for him to recollect either one of them. Brodie Grant, his adopted sire, had found him living in a crate behind a tavern, and the two had worked together to save Brodie’s new wife, Celestina. Afterwards, the young couple had brought him back to the Highlands and accepted him as their son. Loki adored them both for all they had done for him, and someday, he hoped to be able to tell them how much, especially his mama, but not yet. He didn’t know why, but whenever he tried to express his love and gratitude, it was as if he turned mute.

But while his adopted family never made him feel less than accepted, other members of the clan liked to remind him that he was not truly of Grant blood. Now it was his job to prove himself to everyone, but he was still making a fool of himself. When Gwyneth finished cleaning the dried blood off his face and placed some salve on him, she said, “You know, you do not have to do this. You’d be happier if you stayed at the Grant castle in the Highlands. ‘Tis where you belong. We all know it but you.”

Loki nodded his thanks for her ministrations, then stalked off into the woods to relieve himself. Once finished, he found a nearby creek and knelt down to throw some ice cold water on his face, pausing to wash his hands and neck as well. He had few memories of the battle, only that five men on horseback had stolen all his weapons and his horse and knocked him out.

He’d failed again. Mayhap his aunt was right, and it was finally time to head back home to the Highlands—only to leave forever. He returned to the clearing and shrugged his shoulders at Logan. “My decision is made. I’ll return to inform my parents that I’ll be working for the crown from here on out. Then I’ll meet you wherever you would like to complete my training. I’ll not go searching for my sire again.”

“Loki,” Gwyneth said, “I think you’re making the right choice about your sire. You have two adoptive parents who love you. Give up on your true parents. You may never know, and there’s no point in allowing it to ruin your life. But are you sure you do not wish to reconsider and marry Bella?”

“I cannot, Gwyneth. Her father will not allow it. So I’d rather leave and work for the crown than see her marry another. Will you train me?” He glanced from Gwyneth to Logan, feeling the defeat weigh down his entire body. All his sword work, all the careful training and eating he’d done to increase his size and his muscles, suddenly taunted him. As a young lad, all he’d desired had been to train as a Grant warrior, to live in the Highlands and fight like the renowned Alexander Grant, his uncle, and now that he was close to accomplishing that goal, it had lost all its power over him. Perhaps he should have done something entirely different with his time.

Logan nodded his head. “Aye, we’ll train you. Gwynie can ride with me. We’ll go with you to your keep.”

“Mayhap we can stop at Drummond or Cameron land and get a horse. That way you can have a shorter journey home.”

“Nay,” Logan snorted. “We’ll travel with you all the way home. Your father would have my arse if I let you ride alone, looking like a lad with no brain to use his brawn. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll leave together. You’ll just have to stop at Clan Ramsay for a bit afterwards.”

Rather than argue, Loki climbed onto one of the horses and flicked the reins.

Logan helped Gwynie mount and climbed up behind her, wrapping his plaid around the both of them. Silently, Loki cursed himself for having made them come out in such cold weather. It was not quite winter yet, so they could still navigate, but it would not be the best of treks through the Highlands at this time of year. He’d try to talk them out of following him the entire way later. He didn’t have the energy right now.

“Did you find out anything at all about your true sire?” Gwyneth asked.

“Nay.” Loki frowned. “I really do not care any longer. I’ve ended my search.”

“Whenever you change your mind,” Gwyneth said, giving him a knowing look, “we’ll be glad to help again.”

“My thanks,” Loki muttered. It was hopeless. He’d never find out who he truly was and why he’d been living in a crate at seven summers in the royal burgh of Ayr.

His interest in his past had finally been beaten out of him.

***

Arabella Lewis trudged down the hill from the Grant keep kitchens to her father’s cottage, carrying a loaf of fresh bread and a trencher of stew. When she reached the hut near the stables, she opened the door and walked straight to the table to set the food down in front of her sire along with some mead.

“What took you so long? You’ve been playing around with the lads again?” Her sire’s narrowed gaze told her exactly how much he trusted her.

“Nay, Papa, I do not play with the lads.” Bella had to admit her interest was limited to one lad in particular—and had been since the first day she met Loki Grant. He was the strongest, most loyal, and cleverest lad she had ever met, and she liked how his brown hair had a glint of gold in it. Her mind filled with a vision of him all muscle from working hard in the lists. A sigh escaped her lips as she remembered all the times she had sneaked out to watch him work at his sword-fighting skills, usually taking off his tunic to practice. Her favorite part of Loki was his eyes, strictly because they did not match, something that made him unique. But now Loki was busy training to be a tracker for the Scottish crown, something that would take him away for long periods of time, and Bella was stuck in her role as a kitchen maid.

Her sister, Morna, piped up. “Papa, she’s not interested. She’s sworn off all lads after you refused Loki Grant as her husband.”

“Aye, well, ‘tis a good thing I did,” her sire barked. “He’s not good enough for my lassie, and he ran away, besides.”

She glanced at the ceiling to keep herself from shrieking at her father. His repeated refusal of Loki’s request to marry her made her want to tear down the walls around them. “Papa, that is ridiculous. He’s the nephew of our laird, Alexander Grant. Who is good enough for me in your eyes, the King of England?” She wished to scream to the rafters over her father’s foolishness, but he was too stubborn for that to do any good.

Her father snorted, “Aye, he would suit. I know you all favor Loki, but I promised your dear mama you would marry a lad born in our clan, and I will not go back on my word. Loki grew up in a crate until Lady Celestina brought him here. You know I tire of this conversation, daughter. You will not marry him.”

“Why do you hate him so? You know all he has done to protect his clan. There have been many, many times when his ingenuity has saved others, especially his mother and his Aunt Jennie.” She made her way around the small hut, picking up after her father and her sister as the two of them shared the stew she had brought in from the keep.

“Aye, you mean his adopted mother and his adopted aunt,” Morna added.

Arabella bumped into her sister as she passed by, intending on giving her a not-so-subtle message of what she thought of her disloyalty. “They consider him their true kin, so why can you not see it? The two of you drive me daft.” Bella wanted to punch something. No matter how often they discussed the same topic, neither would budge.

Her father barked, “I do not hate the lad as I can see he is a hard worker, but he is not a true member of our clan. Who knows what blood runs through his veins?”

“According to everyone but you, he’s a Grant.”

A bony finger pointed at her. “You need to watch that sassy mouth of yours, lass. You’ll get yourself in trouble. There are plenty of other lads you can marry, or you could stay here and take care of me once your sister marries.”

“Papa, I’d like a family of my own. You know that, and I’m sure Mama would want the same for me.”

“Mayhap one day, but for now you can help your sister get ready for her marriage. I may even send you with her for the wedding, then you can return shortly after. She must keep her hands pretty for her husband. He is a cousin to noble blood, so she will not be working once she’s married.” Her father slurped up the last bite of stew in the trencher, glancing up at her with veiled innocence once he was done. “Sorry, but you did not want any stew, now did you? You’ve probably had plenty working in the kitchens and all.”