Damn.
“What’s that?” I asked and Tor didn’t answer until we were at the top of the stairs and several feet down the wide hall.
There, he stopped me and curled me into his front so my son, my prince and me were all in a close huddle.
This, normally, would make me feel great. At the troubled look in Tor’s beautiful blue eyes, I didn’t feel great.
I lifted a hand and rested it on the wall of his hard chest just as I slid my other arm around his waist in a successful effort to make our huddle closer.
“Frey Drakkar and Apollo Ulfr of Lunwyn and King Lahn of Korwahk are all here,” he told me and I blinked.
I knew of Lunwyn and I knew of Korwahk. In fact, I knew quite a bit about both considering much had happened in Lunwyn (the icy country to the far north of the continent where Hawkvale was), the former Middleland (which had been its own country until a recent war meant it reverted back to Lunwyn) and, obviously, Korwahk. Tales had spread widely of what had gone down in Lunwyn, Middleland and Korwahk and all of this had something directly or indirectly to do with the now deposed and really not well-liked King Baldur of the former Middleland who was currently in exile on some island somewhere.
I also knew of these places because, obviously, Circe of my world was the Korwahk Queen.
“Why are they here?” I asked.
He took in breath through his nose but didn’t lose eye contact before he started, “Firstly, I have just received the news that Frey, who is a long time friend of mine, is wed to the Ice Princess of Lunwyn.”
I nodded, knowing this including the fact that Frey Drakkar was a friend of Tor’s and also knowing he sounded like one seriously cool dude considering he commanded dragons (awesome!) and elves (also awesome!) and he was like a Viking or something to boot. Further, everyone had heard of him and the Princess of Lunwyn considering their love match was a tale told far and wide seeing as their marriage was arranged and yet, within months, they were clearly, obviously and unguardedly head over heels in love.
Tor went on, “That isn’t the news, Cora, the news is, I learned from Frey that Princess Sjofn, he calls her Finnie,” his arm gave me a squeeze and his voice dipped low, “she is of your world.”
I blinked and felt my lips part.
Then I whispered, “No joke?”
Some of the intensity in his eyes shifted as his lips twitched and he whispered back, “No joke, love.”
“Wow,” I breathed.
Cool!
He gave me another squeeze and the intensity came back into his eyes as he continued, “You will meet her very soon. As you will meet Circe, who came with Dax Lahn. They’re all in my study.”
This time, my mouth dropped open.
Cool!
Tor kept talking, “They do not come with good tidings, Cora.”
My mouth snapped shut and my heart squeezed.
Then I whispered, “What?”
His head dipped closer as his arm held me and our son closer and he said gently, “Those who hold magic in Korwahk and Lavinia of Lunwyn, a very powerful witch, received word from the gods. These were promptly communicated to Dax Lahn and Frey with all due haste.”
Word from the gods? The gods of this world talked to people?
I had no chance to ask this but Tor answered it anyway. “This is highly unusual, in fact, I have never heard of this happening before, my love, not ever.”
Oh boy.
Tor kept going. “Not knowing the others had received like communications, due to what was communicated, they all immediately moved to come here to meet with me to form an alliance at the same time sending out several scouts to ascertain if the information the gods communicated is correct.”
“What information?”
Tor did not hesitate to reply. “The information that Baldur has escaped his island and aligned with Minerva and two malevolent witches of Hawkvale. They have seized Cora, the Exquisite for reasons we do not currently know and they are very close to instigating some nefarious plan, the results of which they hope to achieve, we also do not know.”
I stared at him as my body got tight.
Then I asked, “Was the information correct?”
He held my eyes and said carefully, “The one scout who returned, a Korwahk warrior, confirmed it was.”
The one scout?
Oh my God.
“Tor,” I whispered, pressing closer to him and our still sleeping son.
“These witches are known, Cora,” he told me softly. “They are not good women. They have been watched and it is known they have been amassing power for decades. We are not unaware of this situation.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes, love, it is. What is not good is that we have been taken unaware by their recent movements which were entirely covert. Further, we have no idea what they intend to do, we have no idea why they have taken Cora, the allegiances they have made are more than a little concerning, including Baldur, who was not a good man before by any stretch of the imagination but who now more than likely has vengeance on his mind, and, lastly, they hold massive power.”
I closed my eyes.
“Sweets, eyes,” Tor whispered so I opened them. “Lavinia of Lunwyn is also very powerful. So is Frey, the power at his command is beyond anything considering he controls the dragons and commands the elves. And lastly, Lavinia has called to a witch of your world, a woman named Valentine, a woman Lavinia says is the most powerful witch she’s ever seen. She is also a woman who has agreed, for payment, to help.”
“Well that’s good too, isn’t it?” I semi-repeated.
Tor nodded.
I slightly relaxed.
Tor kept going, “Over the months since our return from your world, I have also received many reports that Minerva is weakened, significantly. The power it takes to move beings between the different worlds as well as the armies of vickrants and toilroys she was forced to create when she was playing with us has reduced her to her weakest in centuries.”
I relaxed a bit more and whispered, “Good.”
“Further,” Frey continued, “my warriors have had years of peace but they are warriors. Even in peace, they train and keep sharp. And they know battle, they also know triumph. They, too, are formidable.”
I relaxed more and nodded.
Tor wasn’t done. “And Frey’s men are also highly trained in a variety of ways, including using daggers, bows and swords but also cunning and stealth.”
I sighed, relaxed even more and nodded yet again.
Tor still wasn’t done. “And Frey’s cousin, Apollo, is a revered strategist.”
“So we’re good,” I whispered and I felt him still so I instantly went back to not relaxed.
“I fear, sweets, we face war and in war, until victory is achieved, you never make the mistake of thinking you are…” he hesitated then finished, “good.”
Damn.
His head dipped so his forehead was touching mine and he murmured, “I do not wish to concern you but I do need to prepare you.”
I sucked in my lips and nodded again, my forehead rolling against his, his arm gave me a squeeze and he lifted his head an inch but held my eyes.
“It does not escape me, Cora, or the men in my study, that we are all married to women from your world, our feelings for our mates run unusually deep and the loss of any one of you would be devastating not only to us, your husbands, but also to each of our countries. For the gods of the countries of Korwahk and Lunwyn to speak to the witches of these places and warn them of what is happening in Hawkvale, instruct them to come to our aid…” he trailed off.
I held my breath.
Tor finished, “Frey, Lahn and I, as well as Apollo and Lavinia, feel this is not a coincidence.”
I let my breath out on the guess, “Minerva isn’t done with us.”
He confirmed my guess. “Minerva isn’t done with us. In fact, sweets, I would assume our victory over her and her carefully laid plans, the amount of power
she had to use and still not win, is sticking in her throat. And Baldur is not done with Frey, Finnie, Circe and Lahn, all of whom he holds deep antipathy for for a variety of reasons. But there is more, this is larger than both Minerva and Baldur, we just do not know how large it is or what, if anything, it has to do with you, Circe and Finnie.”
Great. Just great.
“So, what now?” I asked.
He studied me a moment.
Then he said, “Now, you meet your compatriots, their husbands, their children and then you amuse the women, as only you can do, while the men prepare for war.”
Great. Just great.
Still, on the bright side, I was looking forward to meeting Circe and this new chick, Finnie. Spending time with folks from home would be awesome.
And anyway, I was a princess and, someday, I would be queen, I was also a warrior’s wife (and a part-time warrior princess not too long ago) so I had to suck it up.
Not every minute could be a fairytale even in a fantasyland, I’d learned that the hard way.
So, I sucked in breath, pulled slightly away from my husband, bent to kiss my (still! he was such a good baby) sleeping son’s forehead, squared my shoulders and through this, I held his gaze.
Then I said, “All right, baby, let’s go do this. I’ll amuse the girls so you boys can plan to kick some bad guy ass.”
Tor stared at me a moment before his eyes warmed with a light that could only be described as proud right before he started to chuckle.
Then he leaned in, brushed his lips against mine, turned and guided me to his study.
The double doors were opened and we walked right through, took two steps in then we stopped.
And, for my part, I stared.
And I did this because there were three men in that room that were hotter than hot. Tor, of course, beat them all in the hot department (mostly because he was my husband) but not by much.
Lahn was huge, dark, fierce and, I will repeat, huge. Frey was only slightly less huge and fierce, dark-haired, brown-green-eyed (or green-brown-eyed, I couldn’t say which, exactly, but I could say I could happily spend some time trying to figure it out, up close, if I already didn’t have my own hot guy who ruled a city-state and would eventually rule a nation) and g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s gorgeous. And Apollo was also slightly less huge but no less fierce looking than Lahn, green-eyed (definitely green, gorgeous green, unbelievable green) and h-a-n-d-s-o-m-e handsome.
And there were also three women and considering their men held two of them closely, protectively, the same as Tor was right then holding me, I knew which ones were Finnie (white-blonde hair, ice blue eyes, stunning, wearing breeches, boots and an old-fashioned shirt, her husband cradling a baby just like mine was doing with ours) and Circe (gold hair, gold eyes, beautiful, wearing a kickass sarong (a sarong!) sandals, a thin-knit, short-sleeved sweater type thing, really cool jewelry and she and her big husband were cradling babies, his swaddled baby had blonde hair, hers had black).
And after taking them all in, including Lavinia of Lunwyn who wasn’t claimed in a close cinch by a hot goy, it was Circe whose eyes I caught.
And when I did, I smiled and whispered, “Harold says hi.”
Then I watched her remarkable eyes get bright and her big, badass, hide-shirted, hide-pants wearing, sword bearing, knife belt sporting husband pulled her even more protectively closer as she smiled back.
* * * * *
Valentine
“You are here,” she heard the deep, appealing male voice say, her body turned and her eyes went from the beautiful vista of the glassy dark sea and its tall-masted ships to the beautiful vision of the tall, dark man who formed out of the shadows of the castle beyond him.
“I am here,” she agreed to the obvious.
He stopped on the balcony six feet from her.
“I have waited some time,” he informed her and the witch Valentine Rousseau knew by the tone of his voice he did not like waiting.
“I know you have,” she said softly.
“And I have heard no word,” he told her something else she knew and something else it was clear he did not like.
“Ulfr,” she whispered, not believing she was going to do this but she was going to do this so before she could stop herself from doing it, she said quickly, “I will return your payment.”
He stared at her, his green eyes gleaming even in the dark night illuminated only by the soft lanterns of the city.
Finally, he guessed, “She is dead in your world too.”
Valentine shook her head.
Ulfr’s brows rose. “Then you have not found her?”
“I have found her,” Valentine said carefully and she watched his big, heavenly body grow taut which made it even more heavenly.
“Then, what –?” he started.
“In my world,” she quickly interrupted him, “Ilsa is married.”
It must be said, as she watched his heavenly body grow more taut, Valentine found it a fascinating show.
He remained silent and it wasn’t until he spoke again that she understood he did this to consider his options.
Then he declared the one he’d chosen. “This matters not.”
It was a surprising, dictatorial choice but Valentine couldn’t help but think he was right, it didn’t matter. With her eyes beholding the specimen of man before her, Valentine knew a woman could love a man in her world and be taken from him and offered to this man and she’d eventually forget her other man existed. She knew this even though she knew very little about Apollo Ulfr. What she did know was the depth of his capacity for love and her experience was only three men had its equal and they were all of this parallel world and they were all currently residing in this castle.
Unfortunately for him, the one woman he wanted, it was Valentine’s considered opinion, was the one woman in both their worlds he had no hope of winning.
“It does,” Valentine told him cautiously.
“It does not,” he returned immediately.
“Ulfr –” she started.
“Bring her to me,” he ordered.
“Ulfr, it’s my understanding you are at the cusp of war,” she reminded him.
“This is my concern, not yours.”
Valentine took in a delicate breath.
Then she told him what he needed to know.
“Ulfr, Ilsa of my world is married –”
He cut her off, “You have already told me that and –”
She interrupted him in turn, “To you.”
Ulfr’s body again grew tight and she heard him pull in a sharp breath.
Then he whispered, “To me?”
“To the you of my world,” Valentine explained.
Ulfr made no response.
Valentine continued, “This is not unusual. In fact, it’s highly usual.”
Ulfr’s eyes moved to study the sea but she knew he didn’t see it.
Then they came back to her. “This also matters not.”
Love.
Goddess, but this man could love.
Blinded by it.
“Ulfr –”
“It matters not,” he repeated.
“Ulfr,” Valentine leaned in, “it does. And it does not because she is deeply in love with her husband as you are with your dead wife. It does because the you of my world is not a good man. He is a bad man. A very bad man. Foul. Selfish. Criminal. Cruel. And the reason I had trouble finding her was because she is on the run from him. She will not want you, Ulfr. She will not want anything to do with you. If you bring her here to spend time with you, she’ll –”
“Bring her to me,” he demanded again.
She took a step toward him and, uncharacteristically losing control in defense of a fellow female (or at all), she hissed, “You must allow me to explain. He, the other you, who looks just like you and sounds just like you has not been good to her and when I say that, Ulfr, I mean in every way a man cannot be good to a woman. She fears him and she hates him with an intensity it will be imp
ossible for her to grow to –”
“Bring her to me.”
“Ulfr!” she snapped and he leaned in threateningly, so threateningly, even Valentine reared back.
She might be a witch, a powerful one, but he was a man, a large one and a powerful one and she was human, not immune to being hurt and he was a man who knew what he wanted and would do anything to get it.
“This is my concern, not yours,” he growled. “Bring… her… to me.”
Valentine held his jade eyes.
Then she leaned back.
Then she whispered, “So be it.”
Apollo Ulfr leaned back too, his body relaxed and he stated, “Tomorrow. I will tell you the time and the place.”
Valentine nodded.
Ulfr did not nod back. He turned on his boot and walked away.
It was a good show and, even after that scene, Valentine enjoyed it.
Then, when she lost sight of him, she sighed delicately and turned back to the sea. Moving to the balustrade, she rested her hands on it and felt rather than saw the other presence who had been hiding in the shadows move out of them and come to her side.
“He will not succeed,” Valentine informed the sea.
“Love is powerful,” Lavinia of Lunwyn whispered in return.
“Indeed, love is everything but hate is the other side to that coin and it holds equal power.”
“Mm,” Lavinia murmured then asked softly, “But the distance around that coin is not far, is it, Valentine?”
This was true. The coin of love and hate flipped and it did so regularly.
Still.
Valentine stared at the sea and, again uncharacteristically, she felt unease therefore she shared quietly, “Ilsa is broken.”
“As is our Apollo,” Lavinia replied and that was the truth.
“But he does not love the Ilsa of my world. He loves a dead Ilsa,” Valentine reminded her friend.
Valentine knew Lavinia turned her head to look at her when she spoke again. “Three times, Valentine, three, love has spanned universes. You’ve seen it happen once and you know of the other two times. He loves a dead woman, he mourns her, unabated. But that does not mean he cannot find love again, a different love with a different woman who is yet the same. He has known beauty but his full story is untold. And she has not known beauty. Who is to say that he cannot guide her to beauty? A man such as him is capable of many feats, even those that seem impossible.” She paused and whispered, “Love has its own magic, Valentine, you know that too.”