Dead Wrath (6 page)

"Knife's edge?" That didn't sound too positive to me.

Fen then said, "The rage will take you over if you let it. It will take control of your mind if you are not strong enough to take back what is yours."

"You mean take back my own mind? Is this some kind of mental sickness?" I asked, my eyes staring but seeing nothing except my blade hitting Fen's palm. Then a sliver of memory returned. The look of shock in Joshua's eyes from a sparring session a long time ago. The rage that had filled me almost to the point of hurting him. I'd been so shocked, so horrified by my actions and feelings that I hadn't asked anyone about it for fear I was going insane. Too many sessions with a psychiatrist would do that to anyone. So I'd stayed silent. "Oh crap."

"What?" Fen had been watching the fighting dwarfs, and now his gaze snapped back to my face, worry darkening his hooded eyes.

"It's happened before," I said softly, a part of me not wanting to say the words aloud, as if doing so would make it all the more real.

"When?"

"A while ago when I was sparring with Joshua. I almost killed him, but I stopped in time." My stomach tightened into an iron ball. I could have killed Joshua.

"Good thing you let him live. Hard to have a relationship with a dead lover," said Fen, and my gaze shifted slowly to his face. My mind had gone straight back to Sigrun, but it seemed Fen was dealing with his grief better than I was. He didn't seem affected at all by what he'd said.

I didn't reply. Instead, I swallowed hard before asking, "What do I do now?"

"Nothing," said Fen simply. "You just learn to control it. You work harder and practice harder and push yourself harder, and when the rage takes over, you learn from it. Because only then can you control it. Only from within can you defeat it."

"What if I fail?" I shivered with fear at the mere thought of feeling that deep, bloodthirsty rage again.

Fen shrugged. "You have a choice. Let the rage control you and then we will have to kill you or confine you to a cell for the rest of your life, your mind addled. Or you can learn to control it. You choose."

I sat silent for a moment, the wet sheen of perspiration on my arms and face slowly drying, unlike my mud-caked legs. "I guess I practice."

"Good choice, Bryn," he said as he pushed to his feet. "At least now you've put the fear of Bryn into this lot." He waved a hand at the dwarfs now fighting fiercely, lunging and parrying and creating a racket with the clanging of swords and the odd cry of pain. But that wasn't what I cared about.

What worried me most was I had almost murdered Fenrir.

CHAPTER SIX

My feet took over from a mind too filled with shock and fear and self-recrimination. I reached my room in a daze, my mud-caked sandals slapping dully on the stone floor. I walked in blindly and sat on the edge of the bed for a while, uncaring that I was covered in wet mud. I had no idea how long I sat there, but the room was cold and eventually, with all the mud that covered me, I began to get itchy. A shiver rippled through me.

With a sigh, I rose and grabbed a fresh dress from inside my garment box. I untied the mud-soaked sandals and threw them on the floor. And then I spent a moment just staring at them. What would Turi think when she saw them thrown there? I couldn't work up even an ounce of care. I pulled off my armor and added it to the pile. The iron shirt barely gleamed with all the muck weighing it down.

Forcing my body to move, I headed out the door and walked mindlessly, blindly to the bathing pools. The sight of the heated waters had always calmed me. And now the gigantic oval pool that covered the base of the small, secluded valley glittered in the afternoon sunlight. I walked the path to the edge of the blue marble pool and stood there for a moment, watching the steam rise from the surface of the clear waters.

I'd come here often with Sigrun, but today I was alone.

I tried not to let that get me down, and as I made my way toward an empty bathing alcove, I found it had gotten much easier. Each bathing area was small for privacy and had its own set of steps that led into the larger pool. The steps were crescent-shaped and at the tip of the curve, where it joined the seat of the neighboring alcove, sat a pair of marble bowls containing soaps and sponges. I slid off my mud-stained dress and glided into the pool, finding a seat low enough on the curved edge that I was submerged to my neck. Sighing, I closed my eyes and leaned against the side of the pool, allowing the heat to penetrate into my flesh. Minutes later, I felt better, my muscles less strained and less tense too.

Slipping off the seat, I swam to the bowl and grabbed a sponge and then a bar of soap. Today it was sandalwood flecked with brown specks that smelled of cinnamon bark. Not to mention little pieces of apricot. Heavenly soap. I breathed in the scent as I lathered and scrubbed, then paid serious attention to my mud-caked hair. I wasn't surprised to see the water run brown as it was drawn from my alcove and down toward the center of the larger pool. The bathing pools were a work of architectural genius.

At last, clean and fresh and a damn sight calmer, I rose from the pool. Grabbing a towel from the stack ready beside the conveniently heated seating area along the back of the alcove, I wiped off before tying my hair in the towel. Within minutes, I was dressed and walking back to the palace, the wet strands of my towel-dried hair trailing down my back and already beginning to curl.

My first stop was my quarters, where I changed from the light silk dress into my leathers and chainmail. I pulled on leather boots and threw my cloak around my shoulders for added warmth.

I headed straight for the war room and was surprised to see Joshua bent over a laptop.

"How the hell is that working here?" I asked, annoyed and amazed all at once.

"It works, just no Wi-Fi," he said with a wink.

"But... electricity? Power?"

"Oh, I got a few extra batteries charged at NY HQ while I was there. It sure helps having spreadsheets at hand to extrapolate this data." He waved a hand at my table. A table you could barely see anymore, seeing as it was plastered with paperwork.

I bit my lip. "Damn. If only I'd thought of it. Would have saved me tons of time."

"Well, we can't expect you to come up with all the ideas." When I snorted, he said, "And this wasn't even my idea."

"Whose idea was it?" I asked, curious.

"Aidan, of course. The guy's a complete geek. So does not match his biker image," he said dryly.

I laughed. "Says the petrol head who looks nothing like a petrol head."

"Okay, I see your point," he said, laughing.

Before I could respond, a sound at the door caught my ear, and I turned to see who'd come to visit. My doorway seemed to have a high traffic flow of late.

And the last person in the world I'd expected to see framed in that doorway was Tyra, the dragon matriarch, mother to the king of all the dragons, Steinn. Today she wore a floor-length dress of dull-gold silk brocade, with a deep-red paisley pattern so finely weaved into the fabric I could only see it when she moved and the light shone a certain way. She looked queenly and very elegant, her face as pale as the last time I'd seen her.

She was not alone. Beside her stood a golden-haired young girl a little younger than me, and as I stared, I felt like I'd seen her somewhere before. My perusal was interrupted as Tyra walked toward me and held out her pale hand.

"Hello, my dear Brynhildr. How have you been?" She was smiling, her golden eyes sparkling, and for all her haughty bearing, she seemed genuinely interested in my welfare. I wasn't surprised. My first meeting with this strong, stern woman hadn't been the easiest, as she'd faced me then with cold eyes and an even colder heart. But finding the elixir that saved her granddaughter's life had changed her whole attitude toward me. And now I had a powerful dragon to call if I ever needed the help.

"I've been okay." I was being honest more so because Tyra had always had the ability to see right through me. I was beginning to think I was a bit of an open book when it came to my feelings.

"I know, dear. I am truly sorry. Losing a loved one is never easy. Trust me, I know how that feels." She sighed, then glanced at the girl beside her. "Here, let me introduce you to Siri."

"Siri?" I asked, shocked. I stared at the girl, who, beside her grandmother, did not look in the least bit queenly.

"Yes, she does look different when she is alive, doesn't she? At least she's finally filled out those cheeks and put some meat on those bones." Tyra studied the girl with the possessive adoration of the typical grandmother.

"Grandmother," the girl snapped. "I am right here, you know. I can hear you." She sniffed, clearly annoyed at being spoken about rather than to. I could understand.

"Oh, no need to get your scales in a knot, child. You'll have plenty of time to get to know Bryn." Tyra waved a hand at Siri, whose cheeks reddened. The girl did fall back into silence, though, clearly smart enough to chose her battles. She glanced at me, then rolled her golden eyes, making me choke back my laughter.

"She rolled her eyes, didn't she?" asked Tyra, her expression smug. I smiled, Siri huffed, and Tyra just laughed. "I've always said I have eyes in the back of my head."

"Grandmother, the only eyes you have are those all-seeing golden ones that have the weird habit of blinking at the wrong times," Siri spoke, then clamped her mouth shut and folded her arms.

Tyra gave a bark of laughter, then said, "I am sorry for the short visit, dear child, but I will be back soon. I must return to Muspell immediately. That son of mine needs me to take over the reins before he leaves for Asgard."

"Steinn's coming here?" I asked, perhaps a little too eagerly. I would not have minded seeing him again.

"I believe he thinks it is his duty. He has sworn fealty to Odin and to Asgard." Tyra's voice was emotionless as she spoke, and I knew the knowledge was hard on her. Then she sighed. "Unfortunately, there is little I can do to change that stubborn boy's mind. And now I've come to hand my grandchild into your care." The old dragon's golden eyes narrowed as she studied me. "Do not fret. In times of war, I cannot hold a single person responsible for my flesh and blood. Both father and daughter have chosen their paths and they must both do as they see fit. My only request of you, Valkyrie, is that you ensure she is trained to be as strong and powerful as she can possibly be."

With that, Tyra reached for my shoulder, pulled me into a tight hug, and turned on her heel to face her granddaughter. She cupped the girl's cheek and said, "I do so wish you weren't so stubborn. But you get it from my son, I know. It's in that dragon blood of yours." She sighed, then drew Siri into a hug. As she squeezed her, she said, "Make all of Nidhogg proud, my princess." She withdrew, and I could have sworn I saw the gleam of a golden tear on her cheek, but when I looked again, it was gone. I must have been mistaken.

"Don't worry, Grandmother. I can take care of myself. I've been doing well enough on my own until you called me home." There was a slight rebuke to the girl's tone that piqued my curiosity further.

"Siri, you know we had to call everyone home when the horn was blown."

"But I told you and Father already. I am not ready to be dragon queen. This whole royalty thing is getting old."

"Is that why you chose to come to Asgard?" Tyra's expression seemed a little hurt by Siri's words, but she hid it well. Besides, the girl didn't seem interested in how the old woman felt.

Siri nodded, then raised her eyebrows almost in a challenge. "I'd rather be fighting than making little dragons to add to the line of the Nidhogg."

That made Tyra burst into laughter. "Oh, Siri. You are too much sometimes. Who in the world told you such a thing? Making little dragons indeed."

Siri looked at her feet as pink bloomed on her cheeks. "Nobody. But that's what being Nidhogg royalty means, doesn't it?"

"My dear girl. Did we force your father to take another wife after you and your mother left? Did anyone force me to take another husband after Grandfather was killed?" The girl shook her head and remained silent. "Well, then. That should tell you something, silly girl. You follow your heart to find love." Then she gave a huge sigh and looked over her shoulder at me. "But nothing will happen in life or love until we have this war resolved. Ragnarok is now the main concern for us all. So work hard and do whatever Bryn asks."

Siri's face now filled with worry. "I will, Grandmother. I promise."

With a quick nod, Tyra disappeared in a whirlwind of golden dust.

As soon as she was gone, the girl turned to me and said, "I will work hard. Just tell me what you need me to do."

I gave her an encouraging smile, remembering what it was like to be a newbie, remembering things said and done by Sigrun all those months ago. "Why don't we work together? I'll get someone to organize quarters and armor for you. And weapons as well." As I spoke, I looked around, belatedly realizing Joshua had remained so silent during Tyra's visit that I'd forgotten to introduce him. He gave me a wave as my gaze settled on him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have introduced you."