Fate of the Gods 01 - Forged by Fate (18 page)

These people had no need of his blessing, and they had been given the grace of his protection for some eighty years while he lived at Eve’s side. More, they had Eve’s blood. Was that not enough of a gift?

He turned from the boat, now a mass of licking flames, and looked toward the shore and the people there. Owen stood before them all, staring now at his father with dawning comprehension. He was a wise man, a respected elder. Perhaps there was too much of his mother in him, for his perception often bordered on mind-reading. Eve had never whispered a word of heresy to her son, not wishing to make him an outcast to his people, and he had grown up loving his grandfather’s gods. Odin the Allfather and his wife Frigg, Thor the lord of thunder, Loki the mischief bringer, Heimdall the guardian, Freyr of the fields and fertility, Freyja, and Sif, the patronesses of fertility and women, beauty and prosperity. Never once had Owen had reason to believe his father was more than a man, until this moment.

Thor wanted him to know, to cement his faith in a way that Eve had never been able. Truth was the last gift he could give the boy who had been his son. The gods were present. The gods were watching. The gods walked among men. The gods loved.

Owen bowed his head.

Lightning struck again dancing across the sea and dazzling the eyes of any who looked in Thor’s direction. He let it take him.

By the time their sight had cleared again, he was gone.

Thor sat in the great hall of Asgard, his head bowed and eyes closed. It had been a full day since he had returned. Odin had not spoken to him except to welcome him home, not even going so far as to suggest he see to his wife. The old raven croaked at him from the back of the Allfather’s throne and Thor sighed, opening his eyes and staring into the mug of mead in his hand. So much for peace.

He drained the mug and rose. Even if Odin had not said it, Thor knew his duty. Sif waited, and the longer he put off approaching her, the more suspicion would arise. Loki still had not returned from his expulsion into the world of men. His sentence would last another 18 years. It reassured him, nonetheless, that he need not fear finding the dog in his home, making love to his wife.

His wife. His heart twisted in agony. He had left his wife in heaven to take one on earth, and she had been more goddess than Sif would ever be. True, Sif’s beauty had no match among mortal women. What he had seen of Aphrodite could not put his wife to shame either, though the Olympian was beautiful in her own right. Once Thor had looked upon Sif as the loveliest creature he would ever behold. But the eons had changed her, distorting her beauty into pride and vanity. What depth she had once possessed was gone, and that was made more apparent by the time he had spent with Eve.

What a fool he had been to think a single lifetime with Eve would be enough. He could not prevail on Odin to change him again, and the only others with the power were Loki and Sif. Even if they would—an impossibility—they could only change his form, not take away his immortality. He would be lucky if he could spend ten years in her company before her people began to notice he did not age. And his temper alone would wreak havoc on the illusion of humanity. Storms rolling in from clear blue skies did not go unnoticed, even by the most oblivious of humans and gods.

The cottage was dark when he got there, his goats not even stirring. Of course. He had not paid any notice to the darkness. Sif would be asleep. He shut the door behind him as quietly as he could and entered the bedroom.

Sif was curled on her side in the wide bed, one hand beneath her flawless cheek, the other curled loosely beneath her chin. Her hair, long grown back, was neatly plaited in a braid, which coiled over her shoulder and disappeared beneath the blankets covering her. In sleep, she was as beautiful as the day he had first laid eyes upon her. There was no cruelty in the half smile which curved her lips, no vanity in the arch of her brow. He touched her skin lightly, trailing his fingers over her cheekbone and down her jaw. She stirred, rolling onto her back and falling into a deeper slumber.

Perhaps it would be possible to be satisfied by his true wife once more. Perhaps if he simply turned his thoughts from Eve, he could love Sif again as he ought. He would try. He owed her that. He owed them all that much, to be content with his purpose in this world. His people needed him. Odin needed him. It was long past time he focused on the lands which belonged to the North.

He did not disturb her by joining her in the bed, but left her to sleep and went back to the main room of the cottage. He sat facing the window and waited for the sun to rise. In the morning, he would make amends with Sif. For now, for the last time, he closed his eyes and searched for Eve’s presence on earth. He brushed her mind, a squalling infant, and soothed her cries, comforting her thoughts until she fell into a slumber.

Thor sighed, rubbing his forehead with his knuckles, and withdrew. He buried his love for Eve away where Sif could never find it.

The only thoughts he would permit himself now would be those involving his report to Odin. There was much to tell the Aesir of the world in which they lived.

Chapter Sixteen: Present

The manor overflowed with DeLeons for weeks after the wedding. Eve could only be grateful the Watsons had felt no need to stay. Eve’s parents left almost immediately. Mia however, begged permission to stay for another month, and under pressure from her mother, Eve reluctantly granted it. Garrit shrugged and gave her a room at the opposite end of the manor house, near his parents’ room, and Juliette promised to keep an eye on her. The portrait of Lady Anessa, Eve’s previous DeLeon incarnation, was removed from the hall for the duration, replaced with a framed photo from the wedding. There was no point in tempting Mia’s curiosity.

“Won’t you go on a honeymoon, Abby? Didn’t Garrit plan some exotic vacation for you?”

Eve stared into her coffee cup. Facing her sister first thing in the morning was a trial. With the addition of Mia’s unfailing ability to raise all the most awkward subjects, Eve was starting to hope Jean would marry her just so that she would go somewhere else for a while. Poor Jean. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Unfortunately, Garrit’s business forced us to cancel it. Maybe in a few months.” Or never. Until they were sure Adam had given up on trying to infiltrate her life, an exotic vacation seemed incredibly unwise.

Eve picked a fresh croissant off a platter and began pulling it apart. Mia had already devoured one, and judging by the dirty plate beside her sister, Jean had already come and gone. The crust was a bit rubbery. She could’ve made better breakfast breads, if the man Garrit had hired to cook while the manor held guests would let her near the ingredients or the oven. She wasn’t sure if that had been Garrit’s idea, or the cook’s.

“What a rotten job, then. Even if he is worth a fortune.”

“The kind of work that makes that kind of money usually is rotten. Money isn’t everything, Mia. The sooner you learn that, the better off you’ll be.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Because you’re learning it so well now, what with being disgustingly rich.”

“I didn’t marry Garrit for his money.”

“That’s what everyone says when they marry rich men.”

She sighed. “Mia, really. Do you really think Garrit would ever marry a woman who was only after his fortune? He’s not stupid. None of the DeLeons are.”

Mia snorted, but then Garrit joined them, stopping whatever else she had meant to say.

He kissed Eve on the forehead as he sat down. Plate, silverware, juice and water glasses were set before him by one of the staff. Eve had only allowed him to hire them on the condition that they did not serve
her
. Garrit took a danish, and the newspaper appeared by his elbow. He smiled at Eve, but she looked away. If she met his eyes she would only frown, and it really wasn’t his fault her mood was so foul. Keeping a staff when the manor was acting as a glorified hotel made sense, but it didn’t make her want to smile back and exchange pleasantries.

He cleared his throat. “
Bonjour,
Mia. Are you enjoying your stay?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. Jean is taking me sightseeing today, in town.”

“Is he?” Eve asked. Garrit glanced at her sidelong. She ignored him. “Did Jean happen to run that by his Aunt Brienne?”

“Abby, you’re so ridiculous. Why on earth would he need to ask his aunt for permission?”

“
Oui,
Abby.” Garrit smiled. “Why does he need Brienne’s permission?”

She glared at him. “Brienne did mention that she needed some supplies from town. I’m sure that if Jean is going, she’d appreciate if he picked them up for her.”

“Ah,
naturellement.
” He hid a grin from Mia by sipping his coffee, but Eve saw it and scowled. He cleared his throat again and opened the paper to the business section, seeming to have realized his error.

“Abby said your job is keeping you from your honeymoon, Garrit.”

He shot Eve a look, and she pretended not to notice. It was his turn to fend off her sister’s questions. “
Oui.
Regrettably.”

“But I don’t understand. How could you let them keep you? It’s your
honeymoon
.”

“I’m at the mercy of my clients. And while you would think a wedding and honeymoon are life events deserving some time off, not all of them are so reasonable. The rich rarely are.”

“Your family is perfectly reasonable.”

Eve winced. “Mia! Would you please mind your tongue?”

“
Non,
Abby,
c’est pas grave.
” Garrit covered her hand on the table, squeezing it once. She wasn’t sure if it was a reassurance or an admonition. “We are rather well off, as far as these things go.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s polite to comment,” Eve said.

“But I’m his sister now! Aren’t I allowed to know the family secrets?”

Garrit stiffened, and Eve busied herself grabbing Mia’s plate and stacking it with her own. “Help me with the dishes, Mia. Then you can go run around the countryside with Jean.”

Mia sighed. “Please. You have people to do the dishes for you. Especially now, with everyone and their brother in residence.”

The plates clattered to the table top and Eve prayed for patience. “Don’t be rude, Mia.”

Mia’s mouth dropped open as if to argue but Garrit cut her off. “It’s all right.” He picked the plates back up and passed them off to one of the servants. “We are not easily offended by truth. And Mia is a guest.”

“Which is it, Garrit?” Eve asked. Didn’t he realize how closely Mia skated around the truth? And if she did find out, through some carelessness of Jean’s or even their own, it would only make it all a bigger mess. “A guest or a sister?”

His jaw tightened. “A sister who is staying with us as a guest. If she wants to help, she’s more than welcome, but as she’s never been here, it is only natural her first priority should be to enjoy the activities we have to offer.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “God, Abby. You’ve been so on edge. I thought marriage was supposed to mellow a woman.”

Garrit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mia, why don’t you find Jean? I’m sure he’ll be happy to get an early start. The traffic can be terrible, midday.”

“Oh, fine. Not like I want to sit here in the middle of your first fight anyway.” She stood up and flashed a smile. “Enjoy making up.”

Eve watched her leave the room, half tempted to cancel Mia’s plans for her. The fact that Garrit found her just as aggravating was almost gratifying—or would have been if she hadn’t forced him into accepting Mia’s presence in their home during what should have been their honeymoon. She sat down again and hid her face in her hands.

“Abby.” Garrit pulled her hands gently away. “She’s right, you know. You have been terribly tense. Is it the family? I can send them away. Put them up elsewhere.”

“No, it’s not the family. The family is wonderful. Everyone who doesn’t know who I am has already decamped, and the rest really do try to make themselves scarce.”

“You can’t let her get to you. She really doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

Eve shook her head. “That’s exactly the kind of justification my mother would have used.”