Truth's Heart (The Valkyrie's Passion Book 3): A Valkyrie/Shifter Romance (10 page)

“Well, that settles it,” Dvalinn said, folding his arms. “I don't much like the thought of that git using our work for such villainy. The Brisingamen was a gift to Freya. She was so kind when she visited.”

“And sweet,” smiled Alfrik.

“Such a dearie,” agreed Berling.

Grer only grunted.

“I can smell the dwarf-gold,” Dvalinn said. “Show us what we have to work with.”

I grabbed Raven's backpack and unzipped it, pulling out the Eldhrimnir. The gold glinted reddish in the burning hearth in the center of the room. I set the cookpot on the table. All four dwarves stared at it, hungry gleams shining in their eyes.

“A masterpiece,” Grer growled, reaching out to touch it with his hand. “The magic is still strong in it.”

“Exquisite,” Berling agreed. “What wonders we can work with this?”

“Wonders indeed,” Dvalinn nodded.

“Ooh, Loki will pay for ever implying I'm a man.” Alfrik's blonde beard bristled.

“She is the most beautiful dwarf of our generation,” Dvalinn said, patting his wife's hand.

Grer grunted. It sounded like an objection. Berling patted his hand.

“Well, I'll start on dinner,” Alfrik said. “A nice stew, and then I'll join you three. It'll be wonderful to work the forge again and make something of power.”

Grer nodded, his eyes fixed on the gold.

“Thank you,” Raven whispered.

“They say we're greedy and only care about treasure up in Asgard,” Alfrik said. “But they're just transferring their own greed on us. They think because they greatly prize treasure, so should we. And since they delight in tricking us and abusing our work, they enjoy marginalizing us.”

“But no dwarf has ever asked for payment,” nodded Dvalinn. “The crafting and the giving is its own reward.”

Grer belched and stood. He snatched up the Eldhrimnir and almost ran to the hallway that led back to their forge. Dvalinn and Berling followed, almost as eager while Alfrik pulled out an iron cookpot and hung it over the stove. In a moment, it steamed and boiled without her adding any water.

I leaned back in my chair and grabbed a cookie. I bit in. The chocolate chips melted into my mouth. Alfrik winked at me as I grabbed a second. They were delicious. I dipped this one in the goat's milk. I had never tried it.

The rich warmth of the milk complimented the cookie.

“This is the most surreal moment in my life,” I murmured to Raven.

She only nodded her head in agreement while the bearded, female dwarf hummed and diced vegetables to add to the boiling water.

~   ~   ~

Raven

The stew filled the room with a rich, savory aroma. My mouth watered at the spices and the rich beef stock. Magnus's stomach growled as he sat beside me. We both sipped at mugs of cider, delivered by Alfrik before she joined the other three dwarves in their workshop.

“They are so much nicer than I imagined,” I whispered to Magnus.

He nodded his head and sipped at his cider. “Dwarves are never shown in positive lights in the stories. Always evil, scheming, and hungry for treasure. You dealt with dwarves because none could forge better metal or work such skilled magics into objects, but you never enjoyed it.”

“How terrible. They are such lovely people.” I took a sip of my cider.

My stomach rumbled as the savory scent of the stew built and built. It tickled my nose. I stared at the cookpot with a great desire. The surface was brown and thick, with a few bubbles burst across the surface.

Alfrik came out of the forge, a motherly smile that looked so at odds with her blonde beard. “I can hear your tummies rumbling from the forge and it smells like the stew is done.”

I grinned as she ladled up two large bowls and brought them to the table. Steam danced above them. I inhaled deeply after she placed the bowls before me. The steam tickled my nose and made me shudder in delight at the sight of diced carrots, chopped celery, bits of beef, and bobbing peas swimming in the rich, warm, brown broth.

“Thank you.”

Alfrik patted my cheek. “Don't be afraid to take seconds or thirds, dearies.”

Unsurprisingly, the stew burst with flavor in my mouth. Magnus grinned at me as I shoveled the stew. My stomach felt so empty. I couldn't remember the last time I ate. The broth warmed my stomach and a pleasant lassitude crept over me as I filled my belly in the most unladylike manner possible.

“I wonder if you could win a food-eating contest,” grinned Magnus when I went for thirds.

“If it's this stew, I could,” I groaned, licking my lips. “And I can't help but notice you've eaten even faster than I have.”

“It is good,” he admitted.

After my third bowl, I was truly filled. Only sex could have made me feel any more contend. I laid my head down on my arms, my eyes fluttering closed. The room was so warm and the savory scent of the stew lingered in the air.

My breaths shallowed. I let myself slip down into the peace of sleep.

Chapter Eleven

Raven

“Raven. Wake up, Raven.”

A hand shook me. Magnus's voice pulled me from the depths of sleep. My eyes opened. I yawned, the side of my cheek sticky with drool. I blushed as I sat up and wiped black hair from my face. I had fallen asleep on the table. I grabbed a cloth napkin and wiped at my cheek.

“Don't say a word,” I warned him as I finished cleaning off the drool.

“About your drool or your snoring?”

“I don't snore,” I muttered, blinking my eyes. It was hard shaking away sleep. I had been in the middle of deep dreams when Magnus woke me up, and my eyelids were still weighed down. “What's going on?”

“It's finished,” Dvalinn answered, holding up a gold ring.

I blinked. “Already?”

“You've been asleep for hours,” Magnus answered, stretching his back.

“It was wonderful to work the forge again,” Grer said. I blinked. He spoke a whole sentence without a single grunt or burp. “Perhaps our finest work.”

Berling nodded as she stroked her bright-red beard. I don't know if I would ever grow used to a woman with a beard that thick. I was sure there were plenty of men that wished they could grow one as majestic.

Dvalinn moved to me, holding a gold band between his fingers. The ring gleamed with dancing bands of red and orange. “We call it Truth's Heart. The bearer will be able to overcome the protection the Brisingamen gives Loki.”

“If you wear it and kill one of his avatars, they will stay dead,” Alfrik added. “He cannot create a new one. He will be reduced to the number of places he can be.”

“Truth pierces lies,” grunted Grer.

“We worked magics and poetry into the ring,” Berling said, her green eyes twinkling. “We condensed the Eldhrimnir down into this small band. The energy makes my beard bristle just standing near it.”

Dvalinn stopped before me, his bulbous nose twitching. He took my right hand as he knelt, the ring gripped between his thumb and finger. I swallowed, my stomach roiling. I glanced at Magnus then back at Dvalinn.

“Why are you giving it to me?” I gasped.

The dwarf's hand froze only inches from sliding the ring on my finger. His eyebrows froze in confusion. “Who else would wield the ring, lady Valkyrie?”

“Magnus.”

My Einherjer shook his head. “It is yours, Raven.”

“But...no. He's the better fighter than me. He is more skilled, more deadly. If anyone has a chance of killing Loki, it is Magnus, not me.”

“But...you are the Valkyrie.” Dvalinn glanced at his wife.

“So. Give it to Magnus. He can wear it.”

“Dearie, we sized it for you,” Alfrik said. “It will not fit his finger. The ring has been cast, the magics set, and the poetry written into its core as it cooled on our anvil.”

“Raven.” Magnus walked around the table. He took the ring from Dvalinn. The dwarf did not object, but moved back to stand with his wife. Magnus knelt before me and took my left hand instead of my right, the ring glinting gold in his finger.

“I can't be the one, Magnus,” I whispered. “I'm not skilled enough. I not strong enough.”

“Raven, the first time you wielded your sword, you displayed more skill than men who have trained for months or even years.”

“But...” I swallowed. “You had to show me how to stand and how to swing it.”

“And you picked that up in an afternoon.” Magnus's fingers stroked mine as he brought the ring closer. “You seem to think that you're the damsel in this story, and I'm here to rescue you, but you're the heroine. I'm your companion. I'm here to help, support, and protect you. But you're the Valkyrie. You chose me. I know you can defeat Loki. I know you can cut him down with your sword and set to right all the wrongs he has caused.”

The ring touched my third finger. My heart beat faster.

“Do you trust me, Raven?”

“I do,” I nodded.

“Then trust me when I say you can do this.”

The ring slipped down my finger. The gold glinted against my pale skin. My eyes flicked from the ring to Magnus's strong, confident face and back to the ring. I took a deep breath. Like with walking through Muspellheim, it was my positive belief that made my steps easier. I couldn't keep sabotaging myself and doubting my abilities. Loki was strong, and I had to believe I could beat him.

Magnus believed it. His eyes burned with his conviction. I drank it into me. I imbibed his confidence and absorbed it. I clenched my right fist and nodded my head. I was the Valkyrie. I was Sigrid and Ragnar's daughter.

I would avenge Odin with Loki's death.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him.

He kissed my hand right over the ring. I shuddered, then I leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Alfrik and Berling let out happy sighs and Grer a disgusted grunt. I didn't care. I had made my decision. I would be strong and confident.

I had Heart's Truth, and I would slay Loki's lies.

~   ~   ~

Magnus

The change that transformed Raven was breathtaking. She sat straight with a regal bearing when she broke the kiss. Her face was hard and beautiful, carved out of ice and given life by her spirit. She had the strength to face this. I stroked the Heart's Truth adorning her ring finger, the warmth of the artifact tingling through me.

Boudica reborn sat before me.

And then a smile crossed her pale-pink lips. A twinkle glinted in her ice-blue eyes. She stared down at me, her mused, black hair curtaining about her face, and asked, “Do you know what you just did, Magnus?”

“Gave you confidence?” I frowned.

“What finger did you put the ring on?” Her smile grew. “The answer is yes.”

“I...” My mouth opened. I glance down at the band of gold on her left ring finger. “I guess I did, huh? It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Eventually?” She arched an eyebrow. “So blasé about it. Maybe I shouldn't have accepted.”

I stood up and seized her hand, hauling Raven to her feet. “Too late. You said yes. You'll just have to accept it. You're mine, Raven.”

Her smile grew. Her body pressed against me. Grer made a retching sound that cut off into a yelp of pain accompanied by a solid thwack of a boot's tip meeting a hard shin. Alfrik and Berling clapped as I kissed Raven and held her tight.

Together, we would see Loki defeated. We would unmask his villainy, slay his lies, and then mount his head on a pike. It would be satisfying to look up at that smug, handsome face every morning. I would be by Raven's side the entire way.

Nothing would separate us. Nothing would stop us. When we were finished, Loki would lament the day he ever used us in his sick games.

Chapter Twelve

Raven

The ring glinted on my finger. I couldn't help glancing at it. Not only would it allow me to defeat Loki, but it represented something even more amazing—the truth of Magnus's heart. It was an aptly named ring. I wondered if the dwarves had a psychic premonition, or if it was just the biggest coincidence that they named it Heart's Truth.

The fingers of my right hand kept stroking the smooth band.

Energy tingled in it. The ring brimmed with power. With it, I would make Loki pay. He would not win. He would not crush my heart. And he would not make me kill any more of the gods. I refused to play his stupid game any longer.

I would be free of him.

“Here is food for the journey, dearie,” smiled Alfrik. She patted my cheek before handing me a cloth-wrapped bundle. “And water. There's none to be found out on the rusted plains above.”

I nodded. “I just wish I had any idea where to go. Where is Loki?”

“Asgard,” Magnus answered. “That's where we have to go.”

“Dangerous,” Dvalinn said. “For you. The way will be guarded, and you will enter the territory of those that want you dead.”

“I don't think we have a choice.” Magnus put his hand on my shoulder. “Loki will be there. It is where we have to stop him. The risks have to be taken.”

I nodded my head. “Yes. We can't play it safe any longer. We have to take chances. But...how do we get to Asgard.”

“How did you arrive in Muspellheim?” Grer asked with a grunt.

“Knowledge of Yggdrasil's roots is one of the few things Grer is competent at,” Berling added.

Grer gave his wife a sour look.

“Mount Shasta,” I answered. “The, um, Steward Mineral Springs.”

“West coast.” Grer closed his eyes. “Need a place of purity. Paradise. The field of wild flowers on the slopes of Mount Rainier. There is a spring, crystal clear, which bubbles out of the earth. Not large, maybe no bigger than this table. From there grows a root of the Yggdrasil. It leads up and up and up the mighty trunk to the realm of the gods. To Asgard.”

“Back to Washington?” I groaned.

“With no transportation,” muttered Magnus. “That'll make things...annoying.”

“We'll have to take a bus or something,” I sighed.

“Or something,” agreed Magnus, nodding his head.

My eyebrows narrowed. I knew Magnus had a criminal record. He was an outlaw biker, a 1%. He wore the patch proudly. I had a feeling his “something” meant stealing someone's car. And I knew I would go along with it because we had to stop Loki before our world, Midgard, suffered any more catastrophes.