For a moment there was nothing but silence, and then Surtr’s booming voice filled the hall, “I send you to kill one Frost jotun, and you bring me fifty live ones?” He shook his head, looking amused, “Loki, my son. Why do I entrust you with anything?”
Sent him to kill a frost jotun…he means me. Anger flooded through me. King or no king, he could damn well look me in the eye and apologize for ordering me killed. I stepped forward to stand beside Loki, and the king’s eyes widened,
“Who’s this then?”
“My name is Megan,” I said defiantly, “I’m the one you ordered Loki to kill,” I crossed my arms over my chest, “so I would say it’s a good thing that instead of making more enemies, Loki has created allies. From what I’ve heard, your forces are depleted and you could use us.”
Surtr stared at me in astonishment, “Well you’re a cheeky broad, of course we’re depleted, your people managed that nicely…”
“Dad,” Loki said in an even voice, “this girl has Amora’s blood.”
Surtr fell silent, and all around us the fire jotun murmured to one another. I was suddenly uncomfortably aware that every single eye was on me. Some were staring suspiciously, and some were regarding me with the kind of reverence that should be reserved only for national heroes and deities.
“So,” Surtr stepped closer, and his foot falls were heavy on the stone floor. I braced myself, unsure of what he was about to do. He towered over me, making me feel ridiculously tiny, “you are a descendant of Amora, savior of our people…” he leaned towards me until his great red nose was nearly touching mine. He smelled of strong ale and pipe smoke. I tried not to breath, my entire body was stiff with apprehension.
Finally he drew back and reached out, clasping my hand, encasing it entirely in his huge meaty grip, “We welcome you then, descendant of Amora, and your people. What news do you bring from Niflheim?”
Relief made me feel weak. I was thankful when Erik stepped up behind me, his presence was comforting. I took a deep breath and reported, “the Queen will attack in less than two weeks.”
More murmuring from the crowd around us, louder this time. The buzz of panic building in the room. Surtr put an end to that abruptly, waving his hands in the air and roaring, “And now we have advanced warning! We will ready the soldiers, stoke the fires and win the fight!”
Behind him, the fire in the great fireplace roared even higher, the flames licking the thick logs more fiercely. The murmuring turned to cheers, ale was raised and toasts were made, a few people thumped the tables and cried war cries. It was astonishing how fast Surtr had changed the mood in the great hall.
“Come,” he growled softly, so that only I could hear, “follow me, we must discuss this in further detail.”
Surtr lead us past the table towards a door in the back of the wall. As we passed by, the black haired girl eyed us with interest. Loki gave her a wink as he passed, and my heart sunk a little. Was this some sort of betrothed he hadn’t told me about? Did he have a fiancé waiting for him here? Royalty often did that, arranged marriages and the lot. My chest was tight with anger at the thought. If that was the case, then he was a cheater and liar. He had kissed me. Who did that when they had a fiancé? I darted a look back over my shoulder at her as we entered the room after Surtr. She was staring right at me. She was stupidly good looking, it wasn’t fair.
I turned away, stomach churning. The room we had entered was nothing like the Queen’s parlor at the ice palace. There was no lavish decorations and lacey, doily- strewn furniture. This room was filled to the ceiling with dark cherry wood book shelves, which were all packed to the hilt with ancient looking tomes. In the corner of the library was a smaller version of the stone fireplace in the great hall, surrounded by overstuffed arm chairs and a sagging green couch. It was so shockingly different from the ice palace’s library. That had been stately and somber, a place where you felt you always had to be silent, or a librarian would pop out of the woodwork and shush you furiously. This library had an air of mischief about it. I could picture fire jotun children in here, playing pranks on unsuspecting readers, chasing one another down the aisles of books. It was a place that didn’t mind laughter and noise along with quiet reading and contemplation.
Surtr escorted us to the chairs beside the fire, looking back at the crowd that was following him. Clearly we were not all going to be able to sit down. Erik turned and murmured to the rest of them that they should go look around the library. They went, leaving just Loki, Erik and me to sit down beside the fireplace across from Surtr. The king was running his hand down his long black beard, observing me like he was studying some new and interesting species.
“I never saw her,” he said suddenly, “but I’ve heard her described. I imagine you look just like her.”
“She does,” Erik said. I tried to ignore the sorrow in his voice.
Surtr folded himself smaller then I’d thought was possible, and wedged his massive frame into one of the arm chairs, “two weeks you say,” he rumbled.
I nodded, “That’s what the Queen is planning.”
He resumed stroking his beard thoughtfully, “And your men, they will ride into battle with us? That’s why they’re here?”
Erik spoke up, “For the past year we have been slowly building a resistance. A rebellion. We planned to take down the Queen ourselves. Eira has her own agenda, she cares very little what happens to her people. She would have Amora ride into battle for her,” he glanced over at me, “but Amora learned of the Queen’s great betrayal, and how she had her own daughter killed.”
A look of sorrow passed over the king’s face, “we had very much feared something like that would occur. She made a great sacrifice,” he dipped his head slightly in my direction, as if I was somehow partly responsible for the act.
“They must ride into war with us,” Loki leaned forward eagerly, “they’ve come to help us.”
“Fifty extra soldiers,” Surtr scolded him gently, “my son, you know your math. This helps us, but it is still one hundred to one. The odds are not good. We were near wiped out all those years ago, and it takes the jotun race a very long time to recover…” he put one massive hand over his face, “if that foolish Queen would but realize…”
“She won’t,” I said. For a moment I was startled at how fierce my own voice sounded, “you have no idea how crazy she is. All she cares about is destroying you, even though she’s destroying her own people in the process. Battle will happen, it doesn’t matter how foolish it is. As long as she has breath in her body and soldiers who follow her, she will attack you.”
Surtr nodded, his voice was grave, “You are right of course,” he leaned forward in the arm chair, studying me closely for the second time. I tried to keep my eyes on his face and not drop them, attempted to sit still in my chair instead of fidgeting like I wanted to. He said, “jotun tradition dictates that the winner of a battle between kingdoms is crowned of both kingdoms. Whoever strikes the killing blow to the Queen receives her crown.”
I wasn’t sure what he was saying, but I nodded for him to continue anyways.
“I have no will or desire to rule the frost giants. You need to appoint someone to lead you into battle as a separate force alongside mine. That person must strike the killing blow and be crowned after the battle.” He was still staring at me, and now I understood what he was saying. It was hard to breath suddenly.
“I think we've all decided already,” Erik’s voice sounded far away, even though he was standing right beside me, “there has never been any doubt.”
Any doubt? my brain screamed, yes there is! I’m full of it! How could they ask me to do this? It was bad enough that the Queen had wanted me to ride into battle, now I was expected to lop her head off and rule a kingdom? I couldn’t do this! My fingers had moved of their own accord, tightening around the hilt of my katana. The sheath was digging into my hip, reminding me it was there. I would have to use it to kill. Was I even capable of such a thing?
“I don’t think I can,” it came out softly, on a breath of air.
Surtr actually looked sympathetic, and the expression softened his haggard features, “lass, you’ll do just fine, trust me. A reluctant leader is the best kind.”
He thumped his fists on the arm rests and looked over at Loki and Erik, “it’s settled then. In a little less than two weeks, Amora and I will lead you all into battle.” He waved his hand at the library, “I’ve got to get back to my people. Loki, show them around, would you? Be a good host, lad.”
He was already halfway out the door before I could catch my breath and murmur, “my name is Megan.”
Loki showed us the castle, just as his father had demanded. We trooped down the hallway after him, all fifty rebels, very much like an overgrown kindergarten class on a field trip. Thoughts were doing crazy laps inside my head, one thing after another. I couldn’t help thinking about the upcoming battle. I could barely ride a horse, how was I supposed to stay on one and swing a sword at the same time? Why couldn’t the jotun just be like everyone else and kill one another with guns and tanks? It couldn’t take much skill to drive a tank, right? At least one of those couldn’t decide it disliked you and try to buck you off it’s back. And what about killing the Queen? She was a lot older and meaner and more battle hardened then I was! How on earth was I supposed to do that? I sure hoped they had a backup plan when she ran me through with a giant icicle or whatever.
I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off the back of Loki’s head as we followed him down the hallway. His rich brown curls and the confident way he walked. Who was the girl at the table and what did she mean to him? Why had he winked at her like that? Did that mean he liked her? Had he just been playing me this entire time? My hands curled into my fists so hard that my nails bit into the skin of my palms. For his sake, he’d better hope that wasn’t the case.
He showed us the kitchen, which was full of noise and activity, roaring ovens and the smell of fresh baked bread. Loki exchanged easy banter with the head cook, a plump cheerful woman with round, red cheeks. He managed to get us all sweet buns fresh out of the giant oven, all fifty of us. I sunk my teeth into the sweet, sticky bread and instantly regretted that I only had one. It was so good, it nearly melted on my tongue.
Loki had a sticky bun in one hand and a torch in the other. He lead us up a set of steep stairs that wound around and around, until we finally reached another long, wide stone hallway that flickered with orange light.
“The spare bedrooms are all on this level,” he mumbled back over his shoulder through a mouthful of sweet bun, “should be enough for all of you.” He waved us forward, but I stayed where I was as the crowd of jotun flowed past me on either side, calling to one another as they discovered the spare bedrooms. I had to wait until they were all gone, I had to ask Loki the question that was burning inside me.
Erik paused just before going by, placing one hand on my arm, “are you okay?”
His voice was so gentle it almost made me want to break out in tears. Obviously he was concerned about the effect that all the war talk had on me. No, I wasn’t okay actually, I was very very afraid of dying. Instead of confessing I just straightened my shoulders and stood up taller, giving him a fake smile, “I’m fine, I’m just gonna stay here for a second. I have to ask Loki something.”
His lips curled down into a slight frown for only a split second, and then his face was smooth again, he nodded, “alright. I’ll be in the room at the far end. Just knock if you need anything.”
I told him I would, and he turned away, reluctance plain on his face. His fingers trailed over my skin before leaving my arm, sending tingles all the way up to my shoulder.
When I turned back Loki was studying my face.
“What?” I said.
He shrugged, “I dunno. Want to see my room?”
The question took me so off guard, and coming from Loki, with his wide brown eyes and dark curls, it had almost sounded child-like. It made me laugh, “sure,” I shoved the last bit of sweet bun into my mouth and said around it, “why not?”
He gave me an amused look and seized my hand, “come on, it’s up another floor.”
I allowed myself to be led forward, enjoying the firm warmth of his grip, “how many levels are there in this castle?”
“You’d be surprised,” Loki said over his shoulder, “don’t try to wander without coming to get me first. You’ll get lost.”
“Right,” we were climbing another set of winding stairs now, and we came across one of the long, thin windows I’d seen from the outside of the castle, “wait.”
I tugged his hand and Loki stopped, his foot hovering above the next stair, “what?”
“I want to see the view.”
There was no screen on the window, it just opened into the air, and I placed my hands on the stone window sill and poked my head out. My breath caught in my throat. Far below me was a dizzying and surreal landscape of blue mountains and glacier clear rivers. Thousands of feet below I could make out the dots of green trees, and the crooked road through the mountains that we had traveled on to get to the castle. From here I could see the tops of the rocky mountains, crusted with snow. White mists of clouds floated below, looking wispy and wet.
“Wow,” I breathed in awe, and Loki chuckled from behind me.
“I guess I forget how spectacular the view is here. I see it all the time.”
“You’re lucky.”
There was a gentle touch on my shoulder, a light caress. His voice was closer to my ear now, “You could have this view all the time if you wanted.”
His hand was on my shoulder. His finger tips on the back of my neck sent a shiver coursing down my spine. I turned quickly, the dark-haired girl’s face was in my mind,
“Who’s that girl?” I blurted out, then I felt terribly embarrassed. That had come out really awful and demanding.
A smile teased Loki’s lips, “what girl?”
Was he playing with me? Anger quickened my tongue, “the one you winked at, at the table beside your father.”
He leaned closer. Our lips were inches apart. His face was lit by the orange torch light, casting his features into shadow, sharpening his cheekbones, painting him in dark and light, like a charcoal sketch. It would only take a second to close the distance, for his lips to find mine.
“My sister,” his whisper was barely audible, but it was enough to fill me with relief.
Instantly I felt bad about how I had snapped at him, “I’m sorry…” I stammered, and then Loki leaned forward and closed the distance, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me into him so that our bodies were pressed together and nothing could slip between us. His mouth brushed mine, a butterfly touch, tempting, teasing. I growled in outrage, and the kiss became deeper, more insistent. My hands found their way to his hair, tangling in his curls. Every place that my bare skin touched his felt burning hot, like there was fire inside him that reacted to my ice, trying to burn more brightly, trying to melt my doubt and denial. It lasted forever, and at the same time it was far too brief.
When he finally pulled back, holding me at arm’s length and studying me with wide brown eyes, I let out a breathless sigh, part disappointment, part happiness.
“Come on,” he took my hand again, “I’ll give you a private tour this time.”
Did you enter the contest? Winners have been announced. Please go to: http://www.museslibrary.blogspot.ca/ to see if you've won. If prizes are not claimed a week from today the draw will be retaken!