Dead Embers Read online

  Glaring at the view meant turning my back on Fen.

  Big mistake.

  I'd assumed he still stood beside me, lost in his funk, entranced by the silvery-white valley. But when my back suddenly warmed, as some large object shielded my body from the icy fingers of the gusting wind, every muscle in my body tensed. I glanced over my shoulder, my heart tripping.

  Too late.

  Too late to turn and defend myself.

  Too late to stop him.

  For a shadow of a second, I stared into his eyes, shocked, horrified he'd do such a thing to me. A thousand fears filtered through my frigid brain. Was he in cahoots with Loki? Or was he Freya's dog all along?

  It took an eternity for him to blink. Even longer for me to blink.

  Then Fenrir pushed me, and I fell off the cliff into pure white oblivion.

  Chapter 5

  I fell, tumbling and twisting in the arms of the frigid wind. Regret and hurt dived with me, and I screamed, a hoarse mix of fear and vicious anger at Fen. After everything he'd taught me, had it really come to this? How could he just shove me off a cliff?

  Did he really mean to kill me?

  Bitter tears froze on my cheeks.

  Time slowed.

  Embroiled in my icy rage, I almost forgot I was plummeting to the ground—until a gust tipped me forward and I had a sudden, clear view of the jagged rocks below racing up to meet me. Vertigo clawed at my head and churned in my gut, threatening to empty what little food I had in my stomach. I moaned, too terrified to scream.

  I was going to die.

  I sucked in a breath, tried to relax myself, grasping at the fast-disappearing threads of my calm. The temptation to close my eyes was almost impossible to ignore. But I didn't dare. Instead I remained paralyzed, unable even to blink at the oncoming rocks. My wings flapped frantically, loud and desperate in my ears. I wasn't going to make it. With a shudder, I went into full-scale panic, arms flailing, screaming like a banshee. My heart thrummed, beating so fast it thundered in my ears.

  Between my heartbeat in overdrive and the roar of the wind, I almost didn't notice the other odd sound: a hollow flapping close behind me, like boat sails buffeted in a strong wind.

  The sound of calmly beating wings.

  I threw a desperate, hysterical glance over my shoulders. My jaw dropped. At my shoulders, my wings spread out in a dramatic array of gold-tipped, red-bronze feathers. As magnificent as those appendages were to look at, they'd never been much use to me. They were just there.

  Until now.

  Now they flapped and flailed about as crazily as my arms, scattering fluffy, feathery bits of dark red as I plummeted.

  My wings were beating!

  The only problem was, those random, frantic sweeps of my wings came a bit too late. The uncoordinated movements barely slowed my plunge toward the onrushing ground. Only on the very last hysterical breath before impact did I feel a tug at my shoulders, as muscles, wings and feathers struggled against the air.

  Thanks, Fen. Too bad you didn't throw me off a higher mountain.

  I hit the snow-covered ground and tumbled, head over heels, in an inelegant knot of feathers, arms and legs.

  At last I came to a stop, face down in a thick bed of fresh snow. I didn't dare move a muscle.

  I'm alive? I have to be alive. I doubt dead people feel this much pain.

  Unrelenting fists of wind eagerly pummeled my limbs where bone had hit the rocks, hidden beneath the benign softness of the carpet of snow. My breath came in short, furious bursts as I shoved myself up into a sitting position, anger warming my limbs as I scanned the outcroppings above for Fen's betraying face. I sucked in icy air, scrambling to my feet.

  Is this it? Are you going to come down and challenge me? Are you going to come up behind me and stab me in the back?

  No sign of Fen on the ledge far above. Where was he? Fear mingled with anger, both as frigid as the other. I spun about, eager to protect my back in case Fen came racing at me, all wolf power and wolf speed, ready to pounce and finish me off.

  The valley gleamed, pristine, a white so bright I had to squint against the glare. Nothing moved for as far as the eye could see.

  My breath clouded in front of my face as the silence burrowed into my ears. I wasn't all that confident I could defend myself against the powerful General of the Ulfr Army.

  If he caught me, I was dead meat.

  A tiny avalanche erupted to my right. I squinted again, keeping my eyes on the tumbling ball of white dust as it descended the face of the mountain. My heart thudded faster and faster, so quick I felt lightheaded. I'd turned around and over so many times as I fell that my dizziness brought with it a touch of nausea. I knew I had no defense against this powerful wolf-man. But it didn't mean I would go down without a fight.

  The tiny avalanche darkened as it reached the valley floor. It picked up speed and flew toward me.

  I drew my sword.

  My mouth dried as the blur closed the distance. Fen's viciously lupine face and jaws came into view with terrifying speed. My knees softened and my fingers squeezed around the hilt of my sword, tense and tight as I readied myself to take on the challenge when he reached me—to fight back, slice his flesh open, to hurt him as much as his betrayal had hurt me. I'd never made friends easily. Which made it way harder to accept his betrayal now.

  Time stuttered.

  Fen's face flew toward me, larger and closer with every blink.

  He drew near enough for me to see the rigid expression in his eyes, to note that the color of his irises matched the bright amber of the piece of Freya's necklace that had once been mine—a pendant whose absence at my neck often made me feel self-conscious and naked. I stiffened, resolving to meet him head on.

  He rushed me, a blur of powerful Ulfr, face transformed, body still muscle-bound and strong and human. I swallowed hard, my knees jittery, wanting to get me the hell away. I did the only thing I could to prevent myself from running.

  I jumped upward, instinct driving the muscles in my shoulders, forcing my wings to flare out behind me. I thrust up into the air, pushing off the ground with my foot, avoiding Fen at the very last second as he skidded through the spot I’d so recently occupied. My heart thundered, and a hollow pain flared there as I ached with his betrayal.

  He slid to a halt and wheeled about, gazing up at me as I flapped away frantically. A rumble echoed around the valley, the last sound I'd ever expected to hear in the middle of deadly combat.

  Fen was laughing.

  Full, robust laughter burst from him, an expression of happiness lighting his dark, usually stern face. He stared up at me, eyes alight, hands on his hips.

  "Well, Bryn, you have managed to succeed in less than an hour, when most Valkyries have taken days."

  I scowled down at him. "When most Valkyries have taken days for what?" I snapped at his upturned face, allowing my anger to filter through, not caring if my words lacked the required amount of respect for my superior. I couldn't scrape up a jot of that respect considering he'd just tried to end my life.

  "To fly!" Fen laughed harder, delighted at his success. "You are flying, Bryn!"

  I was, too.

  I stared at him, processing the strange and slightly unbelievable fact—I now hovered some thirty feet off the ground, the smooth flutter of my wings keeping me suspended in the air above Fen; the snow around him covered in tracks, no longer pristine.

  A thrill of excitement zinged through me, but as I regarded Fen, my face remained bland and expressionless, my eyes colder than the snow on the hillside. "You tried to kill me." I bit out the accusation, each word as frigid as the snow around us.

  "Not really." He shrugged. "It was the only way I knew to put you in a situation where you would provide the appropriate reaction."

  "And what if I didn't react correctly? What then, Fenrir?" I kept my voice low, although every fiber in my body urged me to scream my fury. "Would you be scraping pieces of my body off the rocks?"

 
"Do not be silly, Bryn. I knew you would be perfectly safe."

  "How?" I met his gaze, challenging him, angry flames simmering in my irises. "How did you know?"

  I glared at him, spearing him with my anger. How dare he do such a thing to me?

  "Because I have faith in you."

  His words pissed me off. Faith in me? I opened my mouth to tell him where he could put his damned faith, but the flutter of my wings distracted me. I blinked, slowly absorbing where I was and what I was doing. A little bubble of laughter swelled deep inside me, a tiny, traitorous acceptance of Fen's point, and of his humor, too. But I squashed it down, refusing to laugh. He'd just royally manipulated me! Even though he'd succeeded in getting me to fly, I didn't feel grateful. Not by a long shot. What if his stupid tactics had failed?

  As I hovered above him, cold fingers of air slid between the feathers of my wings. The muscles in my back tightened, released and tightened again, straining to keep me in the air for the very first time. I acknowledged every pull and twist, reveling in the way my body worked to encompass my wings.

  The agony of receiving them now paled in comparison to the beauty of flight. Thrusting upward, I tested the wingspan, spreading them out, pushing down on the air and lifting myself higher.

  "Don't overdo it, Bryn. It is your first time!" Fen called.

  I ignored him and clicked my tongue. Moments ago he'd tricked me into using my wings, coerced me to save my life by flying. Now he wanted to stop me from enjoying my first flight. I wished he'd make up his mind.

  I flapped my wings, urging my body higher, soaring above him until he was just a dark blotch on the powdered valley floor.

  Icy air gusted around me, spiking my lungs and bringing with it tiny flecks of snow. I lifted my face to the pale sky as snow drifted onto my cheeks. I felt the cool kiss of each flake as it landed. Some melted on my warm skin; others gathered in my hair and on my shoulders. I reveled in the purity of the emotions I experienced. I wanted to stay aloft forever.

  A shout echoed below me. Fen called for me, an agitated edge to his voice, but I paid no attention. Anger stirred again in my gut, anger at him for his trickery. I stared at the speck that was Fen and steeled myself. Even though each flap of my wings ate at my strength, I had no intention of going back down just because he called me. My back cramped as overtired muscles rebelled. But I refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing me better than me. I knew my own limits.

  What I hadn't bargained on was the fact that all that white, fluffy snow gathered in one spot would be heavy. A whole lot of wet snow was piling on my wings.

  I flew around the perimeter of the valley, my breath coming in short gasps as I grew more and more tired. The snow fell faster now, drifting onto the back of my neck, seeping into the metal of my chainmail. Weighing me down.

  A ripple of fear swam through me. I considered going back down, but then I remembered Fen's laughter. I relented only so far as to descend lower into the valley.

  Good thing I did get closer to the ground. A spasm of searing pain pierced my shoulder as my long-unused wing muscle protested violently. As the rippling pain receded, the muscle shut down on me, and I began to spin in an odd, shaky pattern as only one wing flapped morosely above me. I tried to right myself so I could consider my options for landing. Too late.

  Snow and black, angry rocks raced up at me as I fell.

  Damn it, Bryn. Now you've gone and done it. So much for a soft landing.

  I hit the ground, and everything went black.

  Chapter 6

  I woke to warmth and pain, groaning as I tried to turn and stretch out my tight muscles.

  A spike of pure agony shot through my shoulder. "Shit!" I swore, officially angry with myself. I had no trouble accepting the truth—my stupid, stubborn reaction to Fen had gotten me in trouble. The last thing I remembered was watching the ground come racing up at me and wondering what would happen when I smashed into the snow-covered rocks.

  Now I knew.

  I stopped stretching as another shaft of agony ripped right through my shoulder blade and into my wing. My breath came in short pants. One thing was pretty clear—my muscles were no longer my friends.

  What had I been thinking? Getting myself killed would certainly make it difficult to save Aidan's life. And visions of Aidan, eyes closed and deathly white in Hel, were never far from my mind. Good thing he wasn't here to see me make a fool of myself.

  A strange noise, which sounded suspiciously like a muffled giggle, broke my concentrated self-pity, and I whipped my aching head to the fire, gritting my teeth against a burst of agony from the sudden movement.

  "You are such a numskull, Bryn!" Sigrun grinned, perched on the wooden stool by the fire, her lips pursed, trying to control another bout of giggles.

  "Shuddup!" I replied, trying to pull the furs over my head and failing, to Sigrun's delight. I peered over the edge of the furs, wishing she'd wipe that silly grin off her face.

  "It is your own fault, you silly goose. Now get your silly self up and let us get you to the Baths." Sigrun rose and grabbed my cloak and a clean dress from the shelf beside the fire and strode toward me. Her smile thinned a little, and the no-nonsense set to her jaw meant I pretty much had no choice.

  I winced a little as I threw the furs aside and struggled back onto my feet, ignoring all my complaining muscles. Sigrun wasn't one to take no for an answer. Besides, the heated waters of Asgard's bathing pools were beginning to sound too attractive to me. My aching muscles agreed that I'd be crazy to decline. I slid my feet into my sandals, barely winding the straps around my calves before hobbling after her out into the passage.

  She didn't wait for me. Strange. I found myself following my now-silent friend, struggling against sore muscles to keep up. I couldn't see her face, what with trying to catch up and all, but I was pretty sure she was no longer smiling. Sigrun's uncharacteristic silence bugged me, but not as much as her speed as she strode ahead, yellow torchlight flickering against her dark hair.

  Hold up Sigrun. What's the big rush?

  Her metal-grey wings lay stiff and so tight to her back that I knew something was up.

  "What's wrong?" I sped up despite the pain of walking so fast.

  "Why would you think anything is wrong, Bryn?" she asked, keeping up her pace, without a backward glance.

  I reached for her arm, determined to stop her. I didn't enjoy talking to a set of rigid wings, any more than the next Valkyrie. "Because you just answered a question with a question," I said. "Dead giveaway for you, Sigrun. And because I know you well enough by now to tell when something is bothering you."

  She stopped, then made a quick sidestep to avoid a passing Ulfr. He nodded a greeting at us and walked off toward the gigantic carved doors of the palace.

  Sigrun sighed and said, "Well, if you must know, I have been waiting for you to transition from your grief to accepting how much we have to do." She flicked me a cross look and narrowed her eyes. Yup, she wasn't happy at all. Guess she'd gotten over her amusement at my predicament fast enough. "And when you finally do let yourself free from your grief, instead of doing something meaningful, you do something stupid and stubborn like this? We need you, Bryn. You have to remind yourself of that!" She flicked me another irritated glance, then walked off, pushing open the doors to the paths outside.

  I wanted to answer, to deny her words, but she was right. I'd been so absorbed with my grief. Losing Aidan for the second time had knocked me flat. Odin's words should have reminded me that I had more of a purpose here in Asgard than just saving Aidan.

  I hurried after Sigrun, thinking silence was better than voicing my opinions, which would no doubt get me in trouble. I tried to hold my tongue. And failed miserably. I had to know.

  "Is he angry?"

  "Fenrir? No. He is amused." Sigrun gifted me with a tentative smile, her wings relaxing a fraction. "He said it was amusing."

  "Yeah, real funny to see me crash land and go lights out!"

  "Well .
. ."

  "Yeah, I know, it's my own fault. I should have listened to him." I exhaled, my breath cooling into a fine cloud before me.

  "Why did you not listen and come back down?"

  "Didn't he tell you how he got me to fly?"

  Sigrun tilted her head and frowned.

  I threw up my hands, gesturing toward the towering mountain in the distance. "He pushed me off the edge of a cliff! I thought I was going to die. Only panic made me react and flap my wings just enough to save me."

  Sigrun's cheeks darkened with shock.

  "As if that wasn't bad enough, he ran at me with his sword. I panicked, thought he meant to kill me and just flew straight up into the air."

  "So he used a different method to teach you how to fly," Sigrun said, almost to herself, her brow furrowing.

  "Yeah, I'd say trying to kill someone is a pretty different method of teaching flying techniques."

  Sigrun sniffed, and if I read the signs in her face right, Fen was in deep trouble. Good. It never failed to amaze me how a centuries-old werewolf who could rip a person apart with his bare hands could be put into his place by a slip of a Valkyrie like Sigrun.

  I looked away and smiled, pitying the General of the Ulfr when Sigrun found him today.

  The brisk air prodded my aching flesh, cooling and tightening my sore muscles. Boy, was I glad when we entered the Bathhouse. I never got tired of the gold-veined marble pools, the ornate carvings, the sheer size and beauty of the bathing area. Or the amazing healing properties of the water.

  We soaked in its heat, silent, contemplating our own private concerns. Sigrun's disapproval had got me thinking. I'd made my decision on where to go from here. A jab of temptation urged me to confide in my friend, but my common sense answered with a firm no way. Sigrun wouldn't approve.

  Now her eyes were closed, a happy smile on her face as she soaked in the warm waters. I studied my friend for a moment and sighed. I'd been tempted to tell her what my intentions were. But it didn't matter what she would think or say. I'd already made up my mind. With my training for Fen's scout team starting soon, I'd be too busy to do much else. But there was still one obligation I had to fulfill first.