Privacy was everything to him, especially with the mythological stories following him through every century. If he were still an elf, that history wouldn’t bother him, but stuck in the form of an upright wolf, it tended to cause only problems. Between the obsessed crazy people and the hunters dogging his every step, they all made his life a living hell, so after accidentally being sent back to the Middle Ages, the first thing he’d done had been to settle on a two-hundred-acre tract of land, and built a home for him, Shalendra, and later, her best friend, Soliana.
With Shalendra’s help, he had designed a veritable fortress. A blending of elements from medieval castles and Renaissance chateaus, he loved his home, maybe even more so than the one he’d had in Alfheimr, which had been destroyed during the Elven civil war.
Stepping out of the forest and onto the terraced grounds, he made his way past a bounty of colorful flower beds and dark green hedges to the front door. He rounded the massive stone corner tower and jerked to a stop. Facing the heavy wooden door was Hel, the goddess of the Norse underworld, and his wife.
Well, ex-wife, but he refused to acknowledge it. Of course, she was also Loki’s daughter, but he would never hold that against her. She was nothing like her trickster father. Hel’s personality, at first glance, was cold and short. No one in the Norse pantheon had given her their friendship because of her father. To befriend her meant falling prey to Loki’s machinations, and no one wanted to risk that, especially Hel herself, which was why she had made him swear to raise Shalendra as his sister, not daughter.
His gaze followed Hel’s elegant pacing in front of the door, wondering what had her in such a state. This wasn’t like the woman he’d known. That woman was poised and emotionless, which he always attributed to her job. Tending the souls of millions wasn’t easy, but she carried herself with the grace of a queen—the queen of the dead.
She turned once more, and her long black hair brushed the base of her slender back. With each movement, a glowing blue sheen cascaded across its glossy length. She stopped and tilted her face to the orange and pick sunset, her pale skin almost translucent, yet beautiful. She had always reminded him of an elf, and today was no different. Except for her eyes, she could have passed for one of his people.
As if sensing his presence, she turned her head. Thick ebony lashes framed her all-black eyes. From experience, her eerie gaze frightened people, but, for him, he only saw beauty. He would never forget the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She had taken his breath away, her gaze searing his soul. He had found out later, shecouldsee his soul, but by then he had already placed it in her care, along with his heart.
Noticing the silvery glow emanating from her skin as a light shower of misty rain began, he frowned. “Hel, what are you doing here?”
She took a single step toward him then stopped, her hands curling into fists by her sides. “Have you told her yet?”
He swallowed the burst of anger and fear. Hel did not react well to emotions.That, he’d found out the hard way. “I will tell her in my own way.” He almost missed the slight clenching of her jaw and moved to stand in front of her. He stayed still, waiting for her to look up at him, but her head remained lowered. “Hel...” Curling his finger so his claw wouldn’t cut her, he placed it under her chin and lifted her face to his.
He stared into her black gaze, willing her to tell him what was wrong, but knew she wouldn’t. Opening up to anyone wasn’t something that came easy for her to do. Her black eyebrows twitched and her chin trembled, but she regained her composure. “Mon coeur...”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “I am not your heart anymore.” He kept silent, his gaze searching for even the slightest of emotion hiding deep in their depths. “Émilien...”
He dropped his paw and stepped back, giving her the space she seemed to need. “You haven’t searched her out since we left Alfheimr, so why now? This isn’t like you, Hel. You know I’m a dog with a bone. Literally. I’ll figure it out with or without your help.”
He caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles, wishing he could touch her as a man. She closed her eyes and leaned into his paw, the vise around his heart tightening with regret. “Talk to me,petite reine.”
She smiled, her black eyes glistening like obsidian shards. “While I may be a queen, I am most definitely not little.”
“You are little to me,” he whispered.
“I’m not even sure somethingiswrong... I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“If you sense something isn’t right, then I am more than certain something is wrong. Whether you trust yourself or not, Hel, I do. I always have. You can detect even the tiniest negative emotion or energy in any realm, so spill it.”
She pinched her red lips together, as if trying not to smile. “Still as eloquent as always, aren’t you?”
Instead of a response, he bowed then motioned to the front door. “We might as well go inside and get comfortable. I also know you would like to see Shalendra again.”
Hel turned to stare at the door but shook her head. “I do, but it’s so difficult to know she’s here and not with me. I’m her mother, yet I am a total stranger to her.” She held up her hand, and he snapped his mouth shut. “I haven’t forgotten how sick Helheimr made her, but maybe she’s outgrown her allergy? How can we know if you don’t let her try?”
“It’s going to be hard enough telling her the truth about who I am to her. That was your condition, Hel, not mine. While I honored it, it’s made things damned difficult.”
She dropped her head forward. “I know...”
There it was. She would never change toward him, much less offer an apology for anything. Hardening his heart, he stood straighter. “When you want to tell me what’s going on, you know where to find me.” His gaze never left the top of her head, the silky black hair shining in the day’s last light. With one final glance at him, she faded from view as she transported back to Helheimr, a shower of silver sparkles in her wake.
Scrubbing his face, he let his arms drop to his sides as he stared at the closed castle door. Not wanting to go through with the one job he needed to complete, he transported to Alfheimr, the one place where he found the most comfort.
2
Helheimr
Hel stomped along the mist-covered path, using her powers to thicken the pelt lining inside her ankle-length leather coat. She pulled the wide hood to cover her face, the swishing fur tickling her cold cheeks. Of course, she could have teleported directly into her castle, but the only thing waiting for her there was silence. She was so tired of only hearing her own thoughts.
A familiar burning began deep in her chest, and she slowed her pace, knowing it was useless to try to escape as a shimmery form appeared in front of her. She admired the frisson of fire in Baldr’s wake, which never quite fit with his gentle spirit. Perchance, it had something to do with the fact he never lost his temper and all that anger lay bottled up inside. Likely, she would never figure it out.
Unlike Helheimr, which was the land of ice and mist, he was warm, giving, and intelligent. Her own father had created the cruel twist of fate ending Baldr’s life too soon, yet he had never held that against her.