Ugh! I’m tempted to stay there because he ordered me to go away—the arrogant prick—but I don’t trust the energy that’s pulsing through me right now. Being in his presence messes with me and I need some time to get my shit together. I ignore his words and stalk up the stairs. I need to find Sifa and Fhord. I don’t know what the fuck to do about the enigma that is Wregen, and Sifa always knows what to do.
Pausing for a moment when I reach the main floor, I watch three elves debate something on the other side of the lobby, brows drawn and hands gesturing. As I understand it, Fhord enlisted them and others to come here when he established thisplace as the base of the rebellion a decade ago. We’re in the town’s largest building, three stories tall with a kitchen and meeting spaces on this floor, offices one level up, and living quarters at the top. It’s somehow elegant and utilitarian, functional without fluff, its beauty found in the simple, comfortable furniture that fills the rooms.
But I don’t need to ask them where to find Fhord and Sifa. If they’re in the town, they’ll be in the office Fhord claimed on the second floor. I head there, hesitating outside their door to let the laughter that’s trickling into the hallway whisper into me. It’s calming and I need a little peace right now. When I’ve settled my erratic heart, I knock twice, a pang of regret rushing through me when they grow silent.
“Enter,” Fhord barks, drawing the corners of my lips up for a moment.
Just for a moment. Wregen flicks back into my mind as I reach for the handle, bringing my scowl with him.
“Give us a minute,” Sifa murmurs to her mate when she looks up, her eyes seeing everything, as usual.
Fhord turns to me with a smirk. He spent yesterday with the asshole and must know what soured my mood. Then he jerks his chin down once.
“Maybe Birger should try again,” he mutters as he stands and tromps past me and out the door.
“Whiskey?” Sifa asks, gesturing to the bottle and glasses between us as I join her at the table. They’re empty—it’s early still—and I’m tempted to accept. But I need a clear head for this.
I shake my head and drop my shoulders, willing the tension—and everything else—away. She’s patient, reviewing some papers in silence until I’m ready to talk. “He says he knows me. That hewantsme,” I tell her at last. I don’t mention his repeated claim that he’ll have me, and I’m not sure why.
“You think he remembers you from Helheim?” she asks, her eyebrows pulling together as her lips purse. “You sounded pretty certain he had no idea who you were. We wouldn’t have asked you to go to him if this was personal.”
“It needed to be me. And I’ll go back again. Maybe tomorrow.”
“What does he want from you?”
I quirk my eyebrow, lifting my shoulders into a shrug. “I’m not sure. If I’m to believe him, he wants to fuck me. But I don’t think I believe him. More likely, he knows I lead the elves who were trapped in Helheim and hopes to use that in some way.”
“You’re a beautiful elf,” Sifa claims in a ridiculously serious tone. “What makes you think it’s not personal?”
I don’t try to hold back the laugh. “That would require a heart,” I declare, “and Wregen has none. Even if he did when he entered Helheim, that bitch would have leeched it out of him before she gave him free reign and a lot of her own magic. He’s cruel and as cold as ice, no matter the temperature around him. If he wants me, it’s about power or manipulation or something else that has not a single thing to do with me.”
Sifa nods. She doesn’t seem to agree but I don’t care. “So, he wants you because he thinks you hold some sway over the other elves. How do we use that?”
“Have you tried again to access his thoughts?” I’m positive of the answer, but I have to ask anyway.
“I’ll never break through his shield,” she confirms. “I’ve tried every hour of every day, but weak as his body must be, I can’t find a way in. His mind is strong, and centuries with Hel made him even stronger. What about you? Can you give us anything helpful?”
“I can’t read him,” I growl, irritation at the emptiness I always find when I try oozing into my words. “I’ve never been able to, for some reason.”
“Well, torture isn’t working,” Sifa says after a moment, her gaze holding mine. “Maybe you can get something Fhord and Birger couldn’t.”
“I have to convince him to talk?” I can’t keep the frustration from my tone. I’m not sure how I know it, but I’m positive I need to do that while winning this little game he’s playing with me.
“Soon,” Sifa adds. “It’s been five days already. The other group is preparing in case they’re attacked, but it would help to know how likely it is. We need to know whether Beron has learned about the spring, or if Wregen really did have some kind of link to you that he followed there.”
“And whether the chaos god Loki, or his wolf or serpent spawn, will be joining in,” I add as I fling myself back in my chair. “That’s the thing I still don’t understand. Why are they bothering? You said Loki was helping Nerthus, but she’s dead. Why are they still showing up occasionally, causing trouble?”
Sifa doesn’t answer right away, watching me for a moment. “You know my history, right?”
“I know the basics. The war between gods and jötnar, which the Norns had foretold since the beginning of time—Ragnarök—came to Midgard, the place that humans call Earth. The gods defeated the jötnar, pushing them back to Jötunheimr and saving Midgard for humans. But Ragnarök created some cracks in the barrier between Vanaheim and the rest of the worlds. You and Mikkael are from those other worlds and got sucked into Vanaheim. The broken barrier now allows some movement between the realms that was impossible before, other than for Loki’s spawn, Jörmungandr.”
“That’s the gist of it,” Sifa confirms. “Loki likes to cause trouble, and now it’s easier for him to fuck with a whole new world. I also suspect things aren’t as calm in Midgard as we hope. Loki wants power, and he’s not going to give up as long as he’s alive. He may be looking for new allies.”
“And you think Wregen will know whether we have to worry about Loki and his children?”
“Hel is one of Loki’s children,” she points out. “And Wregen is Hel’s lieutenant. He should know what she plans.”
I drop my head to stare at the floor, elbows landing on my knees. I need to go to him, but I hate the fact that I also want to go to him. I shouldn’t want anything involving Wregen.
