FORBIDDEN TALENTS (4 page)

Celia nodded, blushing at the unexpected compliment.

*

Saeun forced her clenched hands to relax and looked at Thora.
“
What do the stones reveal?
”

Her friend hesitated, then said,
“
They say Father Ragnar will offer union with you. That is the most likely meaning.
”

Saeun hadn’t told Thora about Ragni’s request that she become his
elskerinne
yet, but Thora’s reading of it in the runes came as no surprise to her. She nodded and waited for the other woman to go on.

Thora pursed her lips, obviously disappointed with Saeun’s lack of enthusiasm, and continued.
“
This will bring you great happiness, but I fear it will be short-lived. You must face a challenge, and act quickly. A sign will come, and you must move without hesitation. But where there is loss, there is also opportunity.
”

“
What sign? What challenge?
”
Saeun demanded, even though she knew the stones seldom gave specific answers to such questions.

Thora shook her head.
“
The stones aren’t a script to a puppet show. They’re a whispered word to the wise.
”

Saeun turned away and paced the short length of the room. It was barely longer than the bed, a wide padded bench built into an alcove. A glimmer of the setting sun danced on the wall above, opposite the one high window. Saeun stopped and stared up at it, feeling as though the sun was setting on all joy.

Ragni had asked her to be his
elskerinne
. He cared for her, made her body sing, made her laugh. She felt safe and warm in his arms, and she knew that she made the weight of his concerns a little lighter. She’d never expected this happiness, never sought it, but now that it was hers, she didn’t want to relinquish it.

*

Dahleven shortened his long stride to match Celia’s as they left the audience chamber. She walked comfortably close to him, with the nearness of intimacy, her hand tucked in his. They mounted the black, polished stone staircase with its finials of Freyr and Freya and climbed in silence.

Dahleven paid little attention to the familiar halls and stairways as he accompanied Celia to the section of Castle Quartzholm reserved for the family. He didn’t pause at her door or wait for an invitation to enter. They’d long passed the need for that formal courtesy, although he usually observed it.

The latch clinked as Dahleven carefully shut the heavy wooden door. A hundred words of greeting, love, and question danced on his tongue, but he said none of them. He resolved to go slowly instead of gathering her into his arms as he wanted. Even though she’d been often on his mind these last months, they’d been apart more than they’d been together. As much as she’d been with him in his thoughts, they really knew each other only a little.

Celia walked over to the window, putting some space between them, then turned iridescent eyes on him. Their glow had unnerved him at first, but he’d grown used to it after he realized no one else could see that evidence of their contact with the Elves. Now her eyes shimmered brightly enough for him to see in dim light, just as his own did. Twilight eyes, they called them.

It wasn’t the glow that bothered him now. It was the trace of reticence he saw in her face. Was all this talk of Katsinas and Elves reminding her of what Loloma had said five months ago? At the parley, the Kikmongwi had told Celia they had no magic to send her home, but that the Katsinas might.

Celia had accepted his betrothal, rather than seek them out. She’d chosen to stay with him rather than returning home to Midgard.

Is she having second thoughts
?

He stared at her, appreciating her beauty, admiring the strength he knew was in her, wishing he knew how to breach the awkwardness between them. He opened his arms, not knowing what else to do.

She came to him instantly, and he gathered her in.

When she turned her face up to his, he kissed her forehead, her nose, and her lips. He’d never tasted anything so sweet. He bent and drew in the scent of her, all the while holding her tight. Her nearness satisfied something deep inside him even as it fed a new hunger.

The heat that had kindled months ago was still there between them. It burned even hotter as Celia pulled him closer, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, her mouth seeking his. He’d planned to take it slow, give them time to know each other again, but apparently she had a different idea. And he didn’t mind one bit. Dahleven stroked his hands up and down her back, then resting them on her gently rounded hips to pull her against his growing erection. He liked the soft little moan she made as she arched into him. He kissed his way down her neck, tasting and savoring every inch.

A knock sounded at the door. Dahleven allowed himself a small sigh of frustration. He stepped back a little but kept hold of her hand.
“
Enter,
”
he said at the same time as Celia. They glanced at each other and laughed.

Thora, Celia’s maid, bustled in, keys jangling on the chain hanging from her plump waist.
“
You must ready yourself for the feast tonight, my lady.
”
The older woman looked Dahleven up and down with something less than approv
al.
“
And you as well, my lord.
”

Thora had served the family since he was a child and had spent some time chasing after him and Ragni when they were boys. Her chiding was familiar and he accepted it with a grin.

“
Do you think so?
”
He turned to Celia.
“
Why didn’t you tell me? What sort of wife will you make me if you won’t tell me when I stink like a muskrat three days dead?
”

Celia rewarded him with the smile he sought.
“
I was just getting around to it, my lord. Didn’t you notice me holding my nose?
”

*

“
Lord Dahleven Nevenson and Lady Celia Montrose!
”
a servant announced as the two of them entered the Dining Hall.

Celia flinched inwardly. She hated being formally announced and hated being stared at. She was getting used to it, thanks to Gudrun’s lessons, but she still had to consciously lift her chin and adopt an attitude that she deserved her elevated position.

Hand resting lightly on Dahleven’s arm, she entered the dining hall. Her gauzy, spring-green over-dress did little to enhance the modesty of the low bodice of her soft wool under-shift, which matched the forest green tunic Dahleven wore. Embroidered hawks flew wingtip to wingtip around her neckline and cuffs, declaring her status as a member of Neven’s household.

She wished she could tug the neckline higher but settled for standing up straight to keep the shift’s neckline from gaping. She supposed that was the designer’s intent. Good posture made the most of her unsupported breasts. The conventions of clothing in Alfheim still made no sense to her. Everyday clothes were modest enough, but formal clothing often left women’s breasts nearly exposed while the hemlines swept the floors. The hiking shorts she’d been wearing when she’d arrived had scandalized servant and lord alike.

The chamber wasn’t nearly as large as the cavernous hall that had hosted the Althing six months earlier. This was a much smaller assembly. Long, dark wood tables were arranged in a square with open corners. Chairs rather than benches were drawn up around the perimeter. Wide fireplaces blazed on either side of the room, taking the winter chill from the seamless stone floor. Celia had wondered at the vast expanses of smooth stone in Quartzholm until she’d been told they were the products of the long vanished Great Talents.

Dahleven escorted her to a seat between his and Ragni’s at the head table. To their left, four massive chairs awaited Neven and Gudrun, Loloma and Nai’awika; beyond them, Dahleven’s older sister Ingirid and Father Wirmund occupied two of the four seats on the other end of the table. Though Ingirid wore the gray veil of mourning for her husband Jon, her smile was full and welcoming. Kaidlin, Dahleven’s younger sister, and Saeun, one of her ladies, sat at the end.

Aenid, Ingirid’s daughter, sat to Ragni’s right. She also wore a veil of mourning, not only for her own father but for the father of her child as well. She rose to give Dahleven a hug.

“
Uncle Dahben! I heard you were back.
”

“
How is little Kaleth?
”
Dahleven asked. Aenid had borne a daughter to Sorn, his oath-brother, barely six weeks past, and the Naming Day had taken place only three weeks ago.

“
She’s a wonder! And so strong! And hungry!
”
Aenid beamed.

“
Sorn would be very proud,
”
Dahleven said.

“
Proud?
”
Celia laughed.
“
He’d be crowing like a rooster.
”

Dahleven grinned.
“
That he would.
”

Aenid cast a sly smile at them both.
“
And teasing his sworn brother about when he, too, would prove his manhood.
”

Celia blushed. As heir to the Jarldom it was Dahleven’s duty to secure his family’s line. His mother had already started making pointed remarks. There was no shame connected to having a child outside of marriage here. Some would even see it as a good thing, a proof of a woman’s fertility. But she wasn’t ready to have a baby yet, and continued drinking the contraceptive tea Thora supplied. Dahleven was willing to wait, though he’d made it clear that he’d welcome having a child with her.

“
We’d best be seated,
”
Dahleven said, glancing around the room.

The other chairs were filled by their Tewakwe guests and the high ranking lords and ladies who lived within a half-day’s journey of Quartzholm. Only the places reserved for Neven and Gudrun, Loloma, and Nai’awika remained empty.

Ragni spoke from Celia’s right as she took her place.
“
You are lovely as ever, Celia. Too fair to sit in Dahl’s shadow.
”
He wore the gray of the priests of Baldur, in perpetual mourning while Baldur remained in Niflheim. His hand flirted over her upper arm, where she’d eventually wear his brother’s marriage bands, but he didn’t touch.
“
Come, switch with Aenid and sit on my right. Serve me as you did before.
”
Ragni’s easy grin leeched most of the sexual innuendo from his flirtation.

She’d often served Ragni during family dinners while Dahleven had been away. He flirted outrageously with her, but he’d never stepped over the bounds of propriety, so Celia felt safe playing the game.

“
Should I trade the attention of two handsome men for only one?
”
she answered.

Ragni’s reply was forestalled. Two servants in Kon Neven’s green suede livery blew a fanfare on brass horns. A third man announced,
“
Kon Neven and Lady Gudrun!
”

Everyone in the room rose as the Nuvinland leader and his lady proceeded to their chairs at a stately pace. They didn’t sit, but stood waiting as a shorter burst was played.

“
Nai’awika Kikmongsowuhti and Loloma Kikmongwi of the Butterfly Clan,
”
the man announced.

Celia suppressed a smile. Neven had taken her advice seriously, giving Nai’awika precedence.

The Tewakwe leaders entered. Their formal clothes were a combination of finely woven cloth of bright blue and flawless yellow suede, trimmed with delicate and intricate beadwork.

Neven spoke formal words of greeting, using his Talent of Presence to draw the attention of everyone in the room. Celia paid him full heed, though she didn’t like his Talent any better now than she had six months ago. She knew Neven, knew he wanted the best for his people, but his Talent still smacked of mind-control, even though she’d never known him to use it that way.

Neven poured wine into the goblet at the empty place to his left.
“
To our hosts, unseen but not forgotten.
”
He led the assembly in a silent salute, lifting his goblet and downing the contents.
“
Now eat your fill and slake your thirst. Be welcome to this House!
”
Neven withdrew his Talent and took his seat, releasing the assembled guests to do the same.

Loloma refilled his cup, and stood, interrupting the nascent buzz of conversation.
“
To our hosts, seen and unseen both, our gratitude for your bounty.
”
Lifting his cup in both hands, Loloma looked upward, and sang.

“
Grandmother we thank thee,