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Prologue
Freya
This winter grated against my teeth like the serrated edge of a knife.
It was unnatural, brought forth with stolen magic. Magic that the Aesir had coveted for ages, until finally conning my kin into parting with it.
This was Frigg’s doing, no doubt. The backbiting, jealous bitch.
The first winter had been bad enough, boxing me into this dank little corner of Midgard. The second winter bit viciously into my bones, digging at the marrow as though she could scoop it out and consume what was left of me.
The walls of my home bowed inward as the weight of winter bent Midgard’s branch on the world tree. A second, more cautious tremble ruffled what leaves were left as Torsten’s defiant half-breed discovered her abilities. She was growing stronger, almost as if the binding spell funneled my power to her, instead of the All-Father.
I threw back the bed linens and attempted to stand up, but the world tilted as my feet hit the floor. Placing my hands on the wall to keep from falling over, with every cautious step I took, a bit more of my strength left me. My fingers hit the side of the apothecary cabinet and I nearly wept with joy.
I rifled through the drawers until I found the elderberry that I was looking for. Grabbing a handful, I stuffed the elderberries and tree sap from Yggdrasil into the mortar, smashing the berries and sap together with my fingers before I mixed the concoction into a goblet of water from a wellspring in Alfheim.
The tonic was tart and earthy, but it stopped my head from spinning.
“Loki,” I breathed. I couldn’t find the energy for a proper shout. “Get your ass down here! I need to speak with you.”
A trill of mischievous laughter echoed off the walls of my home, proceeding its owner. The trickster god made my skin crawl. I felt a disgust for him that transcended reason—a hatred that had darkened my soul for eons. And yet, he’d been the only one willing to help me, thus far. I didn’t trust him any further than I could kick him. His allegiance was variable, depending on his mood. But helping me had caused chaos, which was a good enough reason for him to continue. For now, anyway.
The god of Mischief appeared in a ray of rainbow light, heralded by an array of notes from the Bifrost. He manifested as a stunning brunette with glowing emerald eyes. She alighted on the bed with a vulpine smile.
“Ah, Freya, darling. It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough.”
“And yet, here I am,” she chirped. The cold didn’t seem to bother her at all. “You rang?”
I pushed my sweat-dampened hair out of my face and turned to meet Loki’s stare. The sweat turned almost immediately to frost, despite the roaring fire in the hearth. I wished he was a man. It was somewhat easier to face Loki without the blonde hair and slender, masculine features I was used to.
“The second winter is here. Soon all of Midgard will be consumed by the frost,” I said.
“Magic yourself away, then,” she answered with a cheeky grin. “You mustn’t let Mother Frigg turn you into a popsicle. It’s bad for the image. Not to mention a mortifying epitaph.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Have your minions spirit you away, then.”
I glowered at her. What part of this was the twit failing to understand? She was too clever by half not to know what her blood-brother and his wife had conspired to do to me. She must also know me well enough to guess I’d kept it to myself.
“I can’t do that either.”
Loki rolled her eyes. “Pride. I’ll never understand it.”
“Because you are a craven little thing,” I shot back.
“Cowardice can save your life. Would it truly hurt you so much to admit that you were bested? That Odin bound you to Midgard until the death of your spirit?”
“Of course, it would,” I hissed. “If they know I’m bound, they’ll end me permanently to save themselves. No one wants an ice age.”
“I don’t see why. I quite like ice.”
“You would,” I muttered bitterly, snatching the blankets and curling them around my shoulders like a cloak.
I sank onto the edge of the bed beside Loki. “You must help me,” I pressed. “Give me the pieces of Bifrost. I know you have them.”
