Fate of the Gods 01 - Forged by Fate (23 page)

He ground his teeth. “If Sif truly believes I am capable of such, I am surprised she returned to my bed at all.”

“None in Asgard would court her while she remains your wife, Thor. If she wishes revenge, she will have to find a partner elsewhere, now that Loki is forbidden from having his way. But I have heard there is a Trickster god among the Celts. Did you not meet with them in your travels?”

Lugh. Yes, he had met with him and his brethren, but he had not cared overmuch for any of their ilk. They were worse than Bragi when it came to plain speech, and fought fiercely among themselves. Lugh had not been the worst of the lot—a thunder god as well as a mischief maker and god of war. But the combination of powers made him unpredictable in the extreme. If Thor was considered short tempered, Lugh’s temper was kindling, already sparked, looking for an excuse to blaze. There was always the chance the right wind would blow to bank his anger into laughter, but it wasn’t something to be relied on.

“Is that where she went?”

Heimdall cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he listened. Behind him, his hall stood on the steep cliff that marked the edge of Asgard’s open fields and rising mountains. His hearing was too acute to give him any peace closer to Odin’s hall, and for as long as Thor remembered, the guardian had always lived alone.

“If so, she has been and gone. I hear her voice in our lands, now. In Thorgrim’s village. She asks for stories in exchange for blessings upon their grain and stores.”

Of course she did. And if he followed her now, demanded to know what she had learned, it would only make her all that more determined. Thor gazed out over the bridge, heat and light shimmering and distorting the curving earth below. As long as she did not find Eve, that was all that mattered. And Eve was well away from the North Lands. Beyond even the Olympian lands, he thought, from the pulse of her light, burning in the back of his mind.

All these years later, he could not shake her from his thoughts, and when she grieved, he felt the pull of her pain, the ache of it echoing in his heart. Late in the night, after Sif slept, he found himself reaching for her, soothing her dreams, offering her what solace he could give, drawing the memories of their life together to the surface to give her peace when she struggled. All these years later, he loved her as much as he ever had, no matter how hard he fought against it.

“The Olympians do not take kindly to trespassers. When she leaves our lands, I would know of it.”

Heimdall bowed his head. “As you wish, Odin-son.”

But it wasn’t as he wished at all. Five hundred years, and all he wanted was Eve.

Five hundred years, and he was no longer certain he loved his wife, nor that she held any love for him. The Trickster still lay between them in the bed, Eve within his arms, and what he had once shared with Sif was gone.

Perhaps the goddess he had married was gone, too.

“So sullen, Thor,” Loki said, seating himself across the table in Odin’s hall. “Surely you cannot still be angry about that mischief with your wife.”

Thor curled his lip, hiding the expression behind his mug.

“I see,” Loki said, when Thor had not responded with anything more than a long drink and a glower. “A shame, really. I thought I might travel East, and as often as Sif has been away, it seemed to me you might wish for an excuse to do the same. I have heard wondrous things about the Olympian goddesses.” His green eyes glittered, feral in the firelight. “Perhaps I should ask Magni and Modi to accompany me, instead. I’m certain they would enjoy themselves immensely.”

Thor growled. “My sons have better taste than to choose you as their companion.”

Loki laughed. “There was a time you did not find me so contemptible, Thor. Or do you forget that once you called me uncle?”

“An error in judgment, corrected by Jarnsaxa’s grace.” To his younger eyes, Loki had seemed so much wiser. Brilliant and daring and, even better, always willing to embark on some adventure or another, taking time for Thor while Odin had been too busy with his own affairs.

But that had been before Thor had recognized the malice behind the Trickster’s “mischief.” Before he had met Jarnsaxa, who had borne his sons while he had still believed Sif would never have him. Jarnsaxa had died in the wars on Jotunheim, the world where Thor had been raised, where they had fled with his mother’s aid after Surt had destroyed their own lands. But Jarnsaxa had not died before she had told him all she knew of the Trickster and his role in what had come to pass, fearing for her sons. Even so, Thor had not believed Loki would go so far as to meddle with Sif, and he was not certain which stung him more: that Sif had been taken in by his silver-tongue, or that Loki had betrayed him so completely. Sif, at least, might have been fooled. Loki had known precisely what he was doing.

“Just as well,” Loki said, smiling slowly. “Sif would never forgive you if she learned you’d gone off in search of Elohim’s daughter, though it is not only I who finds it strange you did not mention such a goddess in all your reports. Surely you had heard of her.”

Thor said nothing, his jaw tense with the need to keep his silence.

“I can only imagine you had some reason for keeping her a secret,” Loki said, reaching casually across the table to take a piece of bread from Thor’s meal. “A lovechild, perhaps? It would not be your first.”

“Magni and Modi were born long before I married Sif,” he growled, catching Loki’s arm by the wrist before he touched his plate. Thor threw his hand away, his eyes burning with lightning. The color had already leached from Loki’s face and the warm yellow of the wooden table had turned gray. “Nor have I fathered any godchild since, but for Thrud.”

“And then there is that pesky business with Ullr,” Loki mused, grinning now. “Did finding Sif in my arms not make you wonder in the slightest? Sif is as much a warrior as any of us, to be forced—”

“Freyja bore witness,” he said, grinding his teeth on the words. And Sif had loved him then, as he had her. She would never have betrayed him. Not so soon after their marriage, and not while they warred against the Vanir. She was not Aphrodite to take lovers among their enemies.

“And Freyja is so reliable when it comes to these things.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Poor Jarnsaxa. She tried and she tried, and all her efforts came to nothing. You’re still as thick as you ever were.”

Thor’s knuckles creaked around the mug’s handle, and he felt the metal give beneath the heat of lightning in his hand. That Loki would dare so much as breathe Jarnsaxa’s name made his blood boil and the room shift into shades of gray. He, who had told the Jotuns of the children she had borne, who had led them to her cottage against the cliffs. She had nearly died, because of Loki, Magni and Modi with her.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Loki rose from the bench, filching the bread in one swift motion as he did so, and laughed. “I’d rather not compete against you for our fair goddess’s affections. I think I’ll take this journey alone, after all.”

It took all Thor’s strength not to follow, not to so much as rise. He watched the Trickster weave through the tables and the men and the Valkyries, serving mead, and forced himself to be still, to calm, to allow the sun to shine through the storm clouds. Only after Loki had gone, and Thor was certain he had his temper leashed, did he stir from his seat. He even smiled and clapped his brothers on the shoulders as he passed them by, for in any gathering there were those who served as Loki’s spies, witting or not, and Thor did not mean to give the Trickster any sign of his plans.

He went to Ra, first, traveling by lightning instead of foot. Egypt was at war again, attempting to overthrow the Persians who had laid claim to the fertile lands of the Nile. But Ra only laughed when Thor expressed his regrets to find it so.

“I told you, did I not? First Adam conquers us, and now he fights to free us! It is a blow to the Persians, this uprising.” The old god smiled, indicating that Thor might sit. “Adam will fail of course, even with the Athenians at his back, thank Athena. But it is for the best. I would not have Adam made Pharaoh, no matter how much he has done for us as Inaros.”

“And what of his sister?” Thor asked, taking his seat. “Would you trust her with Egypt?”

Ra waved a hand, and a boy came at once with wine and fruit. “To Eve, I would entrust the world. And have, all these many years. The nearest she has ever come to betraying it was that Trojan nightmare, and even then, she had no lust for power, only escape. Though I am certain you know her reasons more intimately than I, by now.”

Thor grunted. “I do not care to think overmuch on what she told me of those days. Theseus was a fool to lose her, knowing what he did.”

“You cannot blame Theseus for falling into Aphrodite’s trap. And he did return for her, broken though he was, and saw her safely delivered from Paris’ hands. A true hero.”

“As you say,” Thor murmured, taking grapes from the tray. He did not want wine now, but he could not refuse all Ra’s hospitality without giving offense. “But I have not come to argue Theseus’ virtues, and I dare not stay long, besides.”

“No?” Ra took a cup of wine, his eyes dancing over the rim as he drank.

Thor ignored it. To be jealous of a man so long dead served nothing, he knew, yet he still could not think of Theseus without irritation. His name had been too much on Eve’s lips while they had been married. “Loki and Sif both search for Eve.”

The humor drained from Ra’s expression, his eyes narrowing. “Did not your Odin-Father command that secret kept?”

“He did,” Thor said. “But Loki has ever been skilled in collecting knowledge he has no right to, and Sif—Sif is convinced I am faithless in every possible way.” He grimaced. “I only wish she were wrong.”

Ra’s gaze grew distant, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Eve is in Ahura Mazda’s lands—a true Persian, living east of the Olympians. Might Loki be distracted from his cause? Surely Sif will not travel so far from home, if only to know you have not slipped away for some purpose of your own.”

“Aphrodite might delay him, if she were willing.”

“And Hathor before that,” Ra agreed. “I will speak with her at once.”

Thor nodded and rose. “Then I must go on to Olympus. Perhaps Athena will have pity on me, and I will not be made to beg at her sister’s feet.”

Ra’s eyes crinkled. “Athena will not turn you away, Thor, nor leave you to the mercy of Aphrodite. On that you may rely.”

She met him in the olive grove, taking his hands and smiling warmly, her gray eyes bright. “If you risk your wife’s displeasure, it must be for good reason,” Athena said. “Though, I have heard she has taken to wandering herself. I am sorry for what came to pass—your love for her was so clear to all of us, I fear I do not understand how she could have doubted it.”

He squeezed her hands and released them. He was not certain his own guilt did not pain him more, now. Just because he had not meant to love Eve did not make him innocent of the same betrayal. “What is done is done,” he said.

But Athena was studying him, her pale forehead creased. “I had not thought to credit that story with any kind of truth.”

A trickle of fear slid down his spine, but he forced himself to smile. “Has Ossa travelled so far North to hear our boasts?”