Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (46 page)

Arvid had to hold back a laugh. “You’re crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “You speak of killing me as if that was an everyday thing. Me destroying your world? I don’t possess such powers.”

“Well, it’s not up to me to decide,” said Forseti. “I’m just a messenger to assure myself that you’re really here and have actually married Loke… Which leads me to my next question, one that Loke couldn’t answer—or didn’t want to. There must be a reason why Loke helps you and was even willing to forge a band of life with you. Maybe you can shed some light on this matter.”

Arvid took another spoonful of porridge to gain some time. Of course Loke couldn’t tell Forseti that he needed her to implement a plan which would cost Jördendheim a large tract of land. Probably it had been wise not to respond. Maybe she should do the same.

In the end she answered anyway. “Isvirndjellen seeks to improve relations with the humans and thus also with the dwarves,” she said. “A human woman as part of the royal family sets a strong example. It expresses the giants’ will to change.”

Forseti looked thoughtful, then nodded. “I agree—assuming Isvirndjellen really has such plans, which admittedly would come rather suddenly and out of the blue.” He smiled. “But if that were so, there would have been about two dozen goddesses in Asgard, who would have been a better choice for an advantageous connection with Loke.”

“Possibly,” said Arvid, “but you overlook the most obvious of all reasons.”

Forseti curiously raised an eyebrow. “What might that be?”

“Loke loves me,” Arvid stated seriously, “and I love him.”

For a moment her counterpart just looked at her, stunned. From the corner of her eye Arvid saw Loke looking in her direction, too. Then Forseti laughed out loud.

“Forgive me,” he said then and cumbersomely restrained himself. “I most definitely had not expected this. Arvid… I’ve known Loke for a very long time, for over 150 years to be exact. Believe me when I tell you that love is not one of the feelings he is capable of.”

“And you are rude, Forseti,” Loke interrupted now. He had leaned back in a corner of his oversized chair, arms folded across his chest. “I know the deal was that I don’t get involved in your conversation, but you are insulting me personally.”

“That was not my intention,” said Forseti. “In this case, maybe you can help me, Loke. Is it true what your wife says? Was it love that prompted you to help her and to marry her?”

“As I told you, I’m not going to comment on the motives,” said Loke. “And I stick to it.”

“Well, then I won’t ask about your motives,” Forseti said. “I ask you personally, and as a longtime friend and ally: Do you love this woman?”

“And I’m not going to answer anyway.”

Forseti sighed and turned back to Arvid. “Very well. I don’t want to impute a lie to you, Arvid. In fact, I can imagine that you mean what you say, at least when it comes to your feelings. Loke can be very convincing and, if he wishes, a very attractive man. But the question of whether you love or even hate Loke, is finally and ultimately irrelevant. What has to be clarified is where you are going to stay from now on.” He thoughtfully ran a hand through his beard. “This matter develops into a tangled and very dangerous situation. The Council will have to make some tough decisions, should you not come to your senses. I can only assure you that the gods mean you no harm. We only ask for you to resort to Asgard, in order to give us some control. All we want is to ensure Jördendheim’s safety—and thus indirectly also your own.”

“She would be a prisoner!” said Loke. “You know that damn well.”

“She would live like any other goddess of Asgard,” Forseti disagreed angrily. “Do you think we would throw her into a dungeon?”

“Would she be free to leave Asgard whenever she wishes to?” said Loke.

“This decision would be left to Odin.”

Loke only uttered a contemptuous sound.

“And if I want to see my husband, then what?” said Arvid.

“Loke often stays in Asgard,” said Forseti. “You wouldn’t lack opportunities to be with him, should this be your wish.”

“And if I want to be with him somewhere else?”

“I can’t promise that will be possible.”

So she would really be a prisoner, thought Arvid. Perhaps a prisoner in a palace, but nonetheless deprived of her freedom. She wouldn’t be able to help Loke or return to her world.

“As I said, I’m not here to pass judgment,” Forseti continued. “We would very much have liked to welcome you as a guest in the Council of Asgard to find a solution, but your husband,” he looked at Loke gloomily, “obviously distrusts Odin so much that he insists on coming alone. Maybe you will be able to bring him to terms.”

“I don’t need to bring him to terms,” Arvid said coolly. “His distrust seems justified. Do you really think Odin would let me go again once I’m in Asgard?”

Forseti looked at her thoughtfully for a while, then he smiled. “I see, Loke has you fully in his grip. Very well then.” He cumbersomely rose from his seat. “I think for now everything has been said.”

They accompanied Forseti to the gates of the fortress. To Arvid’s amazement they met two other gods who were waiting there, along with a dozen of Sölunnir’s guards. They were Forseti’s companions, but Byleist had ordered the guards to only let Forseti in, as Loke told her. One of the two gods was so extraordinary in appearance that Arvid had to pull herself together, not to constantly stare at him.

He towered two heads above the others, but was not nearly as tall as the giants. Apart from that he resembled them in a surprising way. His skin was grayish, he had the same wiry physique, and his eyes were dark gray, with a black iris, which together with the pupils merged to round, dark pools. Obviously he wasn’t cold-resistant like the giants though, because he was wrapped in warm furs. In addition, his hair was cut short.

Arvid stayed in the background, while the visitors and Loke briefly talked and then said goodbye. Forseti’s companions kept throwing Arvid curious glances, but otherwise left her alone. It was the first time that Arvid could feel that Loke actually belonged to Asgard. What he had told her some time ago seemed to be true. They knew each other, even if there was no unconditional trust. Despite the conflicts no one seemed to question that Loke was one of them. This situation probably would have been different had the gods known how deep Loke’s hatred of and anger at Odin went, and what the real reason was that he protected Arvid.

“Originally I wanted to return to Asgard together with Forseti,” Loke told her after they were back inside the fortress. He had once again taken the form of a giant, and automatically taken the way back to their quarters. “But he was not the only messenger who arrived today. My father wrote that he will return in ten to fourteen days. I will stay here until then. Forseti agreed to postpone the meeting of the Council. This also gives Odin opportunity to rethink everything thoroughly.”

“And then?” said Arvid. “How long will you stay in Asgard?”

“I don’t know yet. One or two weeks. Maybe longer—that all depends on the outcome of the Council meeting, and what else is happening in the country. Festivals are on. It is expected that I show myself in Black Castle in eight weeks.” He grinned. “You know how terribly dutiful I am.”

“Is that so? I never noticed.”

“I was while you were there anyway. After all, I had to keep an eye on you.”

“So I didn’t escape you.”

“So that you didn’t do anything stupid,” Loke corrected her. “It was stressful enough to straighten out everything after Horalf…”

“No!” Arvid interrupted him sharply. “Don’t even mention that again; I don’t want to hear it.”

“After Horalf and his son were poisoned and killed by you,” Loke continued unfazed. “You don’t make it undone by pretending it never happened.”

“Stop!” demanded Arvid. She had wanted to say it with great certainty, but it sounded more like a plea. She had not wanted to kill those farmers. The feeling of guilt inside her almost tore her apart. Why did Loke have to mention it again and again? He almost seemed to take pleasure in reminding Arvid that she had two people on her conscience. She wanted to forget it, forever erase it from her memory, so that she finally could be happy and carefree again.

“Oh, come on, Arvid,” Loke sighed. “What did they have to offer this world? Two miserable lives… Oh, no, wait. Meanwhile it’s probably four.”

Arvid looked at him in shock. “Four?” she asked anxiously. “What do you mean by that?” She didn’t even want to know, but the question came from her lips all by itself.

“Well, the maid and the farmhand you expelled from the court on this occasion—in some way their deaths were also caused by you, right?”

Arvid stopped, thunderstruck. At once not only the memories of Gyda and Hagen, but also those of the notice board in Erendal returned. Her heart suddenly began to beat so fast that she was overcome by dizziness.

“They are dead?” she gasped in horror, but in a way she already knew. They had been wanted for murder, because of something that she, Arvid, had done. Gyda and Hagen had had to pay the price for Arvid’s misdeed. Probably they had been executed, wrongly, as if to mock the terrible life they already had to endure.

“Forseti brought me all the news from Asgard,” Loke said. He now stopped, too, and turned to face her. His voice suddenly seemed to come from afar, and Arvid had the feeling of not being able to breathe properly. “They were found in a cave, where they apparently had tried to hide, but froze to death. The notice said they looked peaceful, if that makes you feel better…”

He spoke on, but Arvid couldn’t really understand his words. His voice sounded hollow and distorted, as if she was lying at the bottom of a water basin. Arvid fought for breath.

The next thing she remembered was Loke’s face in front of her. Arvid realized that she was sitting on the ground, leaning against the corridor wall. She was still dizzy, her heart almost bursting. From the corner of her eye she saw a brown-clad figure hurriedly approaching.

She felt Loke putting her hands around a cold cup, but her fingers were weak and powerless, and so she just shook her head.

“Drink something,” Loke told her. He took the cup again and lifted it to her lips.

“Should I call a healer, my lord?” she heard the clear voice of the servant.

“No, she’s fine,” Loke said. “She just needs some rest.” He gave the cup back to the servant, then he wrapped an arm around Arvid and picked her up. Arvid put her arms around Loke’s neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She felt his big hand gently stroking her hair, and as if this was a trigger, she suddenly began to cry loudly and uncontrollably. She felt gripped by such overwhelming despair that nothing seemed to be of importance anymore.

Gyda and Hagen were dead and she was to blame. She had kept telling herself that Horalf and Egil had deserved death because of their crimes, but the young maid and her brother had been innocent. They had been victims, tortured, broken beings. After all they had to go through, they should have earned a little luck. Arvid had wanted to help them. She had thought they would be able to start over again if only she helped them to escape from their tormentors. But all her alleged help had brought them was death.

Loke carried her to their quarters and put her down on the bed, wrapped her in a warm blanket and disappeared. Shortly after, he came back and sat down at some distance beside her. Arvid buried her face in the furs and wished that the soft hairs would smother the burning pain in her heart. She still felt numb. But although there didn’t seem to be anything but a big, dark hole inside her, her tears eventually ran dry.

Hours must have passed, but when Arvid finally turned her head and looked up, Loke was still there. He sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed and embroidered. Arvid had a headache and felt so weak that she was just lying there and watched him.

It didn’t look as if he would notice. His body seemed to be in a constant state of flux. Some features changed so slowly that it only became apparent after a while, others changed rapidly, such as the color and the look of his eyes. Not always were they human. His body was so, then all different again. Sometimes Loke was clearly female, then male, but most of the time he didn’t seem to have a defined gender, regardless of whether he was human, giant, dwarf or something in between. At times he had hair, then he was almost bald again. The only thing his shapes seemed to have in common was the fact that they were humanoid.

“Loke,” Arvid whispered at some point.

He looked up and in an instant took the appearance he used to have in the human world. Probably it was an instinct.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“No,” she sobbed.

“You will eventually,” Loke said, turning back to his embroidery. “Maybe I was a little hasty with what I said. It’s not your fault that the two humans froze to death. Were they not all right when you left them?”

Arvid nodded.

“So you had no way of knowing what they’d be doing from then on. They were ordinary people. It’s not your fault they were too weak. The weak die, the strong remain, that’s the course of life.”

“They wanted to reach a village,” Arvid said, “but they couldn’t. They were wanted, even though they were innocent. Nobody would have believed them.”

“Probably not. Still, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know this would happen when you left.”

“No, but… you’re still right… It was me that caused their deaths… in a way,” Arvid whispered. “Whether I knew it or not… it was my actions that eventually led to their deaths.”

“Maybe,” Loke said. He lowered the fabric and looked at her. “And yet you’re here, and they are not. Tears and repentance won’t change that. Time only flows in one direction. Even you and I can’t swim upstream, as much as we sometimes might wish we could.”

Arvid looked at him and felt new tears running down her cheeks, where they were absorbed by the soft fur underneath her. “How can I simply move on, Loke?” she asked in a trembling voice. “All the guilt that weighs on me… it is… unbearable.”

Loke sighed. “It only weighs on you as long as you are willing to carry it,” he said. “Someday you’ll understand that you just have to leave it behind.”

Arvid shook her head. “I don’t know how,” she breathed. “I… just don’t know how.”

Loke put the fabric aside and sank on the skins before Arvid. He withdrew the blanket from her, which she had been clutching frantically, then he took her hand into his. “That’s not so easy at first,” he said, “but over time you will see that it’s not so difficult. You have to remember that the world is full of people. They were only two. They had nothing that two others didn’t have, too.”

His words only made things worse, but Arvid felt unable to respond. Loke moved a little closer and kissed away the tears on Arvid’s cheeks, then he looked at her again. Shortly after, he leaned forward again and kissed her lips. Despite the agony in Arvid’s heart she automatically closed her eyes and felt a warm tingle spread through her, which only disappeared when Loke pulled away again.

She took a deep breath. He was so beautiful. How tempting was the idea of simply nestling against him and trying to forget everything. Arvid wanted to. She wanted it so much. Yet Loke’s care couldn’t just wipe out the pain and guilt in her. He had caused her this pain, and he had done it deliberately.

Why was he here? He didn’t care about her otherwise. Otherwise he was never there, gone for days, barely looking at her. He never gave her a smile, he never said anything nice to her, never asked her what she had done or how she was feeling here in Sölunnir. Why did he kiss her if he felt no affection for her?

Perhaps Forseti was right and Loke was incapable of love. The kiss was just an attempt to repair the damage he had caused. He needed her for his plan. He needed her unharmed.