Weaving Fate by Nora Ash

Author:Nora Ash [Ash, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Huldra Media

Twenty-Three

Annabel

It was such a peaceful scene. Heavy flakes of snow fell from the sky in unending but tranquil flurries, highlighting the thick, white blanket embracing the log cabin in its clearing. Smoke rose from the chimney and warm light glowed through the windows, a perfect postcard in the middle of the apocalypse.

Seasons greetings from the God of Mischief, killer of ravens.

Father of the fucking year.

I clenched my hands into fists, determination steeling me against the cold. I’d changed into the feathered outfit Verdandi had given me back in Jotunheim, partly for the added warmth and partly because it made me feel strong enough to take on what lay ahead.

In the sensation of the subtle leather against my skin lay a reminder of the power that had awakened in me since my paths crossed with my Norse gods. Plus I was pretty sure Verdandi had woven some sort of warming spell into the stitches—though not even a Norn’s magic could fully negate the chill of the Fimbulwinter.

“Ready?” Modi’s voice was a whisper, but I heard my own determination echoed in it.

“Ready,” Bjarni ground out, and my heart gave an achy spasm for him. He’d lost so much, and his pain echoed in our bond. His lifelong friends, his father… and, as silly as it sounded to say of a centuries-old divine being, some of his innocence.

He wasn’t as irreverent now, and I couldn’t blame him. Being betrayed by your own parents came with a stain that wasn’t easily forgotten.

I pushed away the thoughts of my own parents and how they’d never told me about my family’s millennia-old debt. How they’d given me to the Lokissons as if I were nothing but some goods to trade. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. Now was the time to collect what we’d come for.

Modi closed his hand around the back of my neck, and I focused on the well of golden magic rising up to greet him. Then he grabbed hold of it and pushed.

I raised my hand, allowing a beam of light to shoot from my palm and into the side of the cabin.

And just like that, the serene postcard was gone.

Cracks and screeches rung through the clearing as wood and glass splintered with enough force to hurl the remains to all sides of the clearing.

Again Modi forced my power out, and the roof of the cabin landed in pieces on the far side.

“Loki!” Modi roared. “Betrayer of Asgard! We are here to bring you to your trial. Surrender!”

A shadow moved in the debris, followed by coughing.

I blinked as a long-limbed man stumbled through the wreckage, the dust from the crumbled cabin hiding his features until he stepped out into the snow and straightened up.

Loki.

I recognized his face from Saga’s vision during our trials to enter Valhalla, divine beauty shining through despite the layer of dust covering his hair and clothes.

“Are you out of your mind?” His voice rung with authority, but was interrupted by a wheeze. He coughed again and glared at Bjarni.

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