Dead Embers(27)

I guess I sought backup, because my eyes darted around the room for Steinn, but he'd disappeared. Perhaps overcome by the weight of emotion that still hung in the room—though now the nature of that emotion had changed: cold, cynical and deadly.

Mika shuffled, her sword and armor clinking, and I began to beckon her to my side.

"Leave us, Ulfr," Lady Tyra commanded, her voice no softer or louder than before, and yet I could have sworn I felt it in my bones, grittier than the howl of a hundred Ulfr at full moon. When Mika made no move to obey, Tyra swept toward us, coming to an angry halt a foot before my bristling friend. "I will not ask again."

Whatever passed between dragon queen and Ulfr warrior in that moment felt very much like being within the eye of a storm. My blood cooled when Mika backed down and retreated toward the doorway.

She curled her lip and looked away from Lady Tyra, the cold disdain still strong in her eyes. "I will be right outside the door, Bryn."

I nodded, somehow unable to find my vocal cords in this sea of mutual contempt. She slammed the door shut. I swiveled back to Steinn's mother, a slight quiver of fear running through me, as if invisible golden talons raked their way across my skin.

"Be careful of that one," Tyra murmured, her eyes impaling the solid wood of the closed door. "There is something about her. . . ."

"She's a good friend, my lady." I defended the absent Ulfr, despite the shiver of trepidation Lady Tyra's words caused me.

"People are not always what they seem. Sometimes we hurt and betray without intention." Her voice softened as if she were speaking to herself. Then her gaze locked onto mine, turning colder and more deliberate. "But worse is when we intend to harm those who trust us."

I hesitated. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"It is your fault, Valkyrie Brynhildr. Your fault that my granddaughter lies there, sleeping and dying slowly, minute by minute." Tyra pointed at the bed, her head pitched forward, her entire posture laying the blame at my feet. "My son helped you, and you betrayed his graciousness by killing his only child."

I shook my head. "No . . . no, I had no idea the Mead was poisoned."

"You expect me to believe that you were unaware that the Mead was tainted by the most poisonous of viper venom?"

I gasped. "No. You have to believe me. If I'd known the Mead was poisoned I wouldn't have given it to Aidan. I l—" I hesitated "—care about him! And I sure wouldn't have drunk it myself."

"You drank the Mead as well?" She scowled, giving her head the tiniest of shakes.

"I had to. I was shot in the abdomen." I placed my hand over the wound, the memory of the agony so vivid I could almost taste it.

"Let me see."

"What?" I frowned at her, taking an automatic step back only to be stopped by the bed. Had I heard wrong? Had she really asked me to show her my scars?

"Show me the wound. I would like to see proof of this injury you speak of." Flames flickered in her eyes as I stood stock still, wondering if this was all a bloody joke.

But her eyes bore not one iota of amusement.

I sighed and unbuttoned my coat, lifting the silky chainmail and exposing the wound to her inspection. My skin rippled with discomfort as this strange, cold woman scanned the bare flesh above my hipbone.

Tyra leaned before me and ran her fingers over the pursed ridges of the mouth of the wound. A tender warmth infused the round, rough scar, and I jumped.

"Very well." She straightened, and I dropped my armor back in place and tugged the black coat back on. I tamped down the urge to shudder at being laid bare to this stranger. Such a reaction might get me in trouble.

Tyra frowned, then nodded slowly. "The wound displays the typical signs of being hindered in its healing by small amounts of a poison. Undoubtedly the result of drinking the Mead."

"I thought it would help me heal faster, but it did nothing for me." I shrugged, not too keen on raking through those memories. "Aidan needed the Mead more than I did, so I kept it for him."

"Aidan? Ah, yes, the young man Steinn told me about. The one whose life depended on the return of that foolish girl's trinket." I blinked in surprise. Had she just referred to Freya as a girl? Strange.

Tyra retreated a few steps, pausing to stir the dead embers in the fireplace. The dragon queen leaned forward and blew a thin stream of golden flame upon the cold ashes, bringing the dead remains back to life with the softest of touches.

Despite my annoyance and the slight touch of fear I felt for the forbidding woman, I was pretty impressed. She sure had fire skills.

"So where is the young Warrior?"

"In Hel," I said, and enjoyed the startled expression in her cool eyes. "The Mead weakened him so much that when we were attacked and he was stabbed with a poisoned spear, he was unable to recover. . . ."

I gripped the strap of my satchel and stared down at the sleeping girl, so innocent of the accusations that flew around her. "He's asleep just like your granddaughter. Odin sent him to Hel. He said that Hel was the only place that the poison wouldn't kill Aidan."

Tyra's eyes narrowed. "Why would Odin say that?"

"Something about Loki's poison and how it doesn't work in the underworlds," I answered. The truth finally clicked into place for me, one tiny fragment at a time, and I whispered my next words. "Loki's poison. A viper's poison."

"Did you say Loki's poison?" The dragon's voice rumbled, the low thunder of her words echoing around the room as she strode toward me. "Explain what you mean."

It was not a request.

"After we left Muspell, we returned to Asgard. Loki attacked us there, wanted Brisingamen. He'd been after the necklace the whole time." I gritted my teeth, not enjoying my trip down memory lane. "Loki stabbed Aidan with a poison-tipped spear. Aidan was already too weak by then. His body just couldn't fight the poison, and he fell into a deep sleep."

She stood before me now, listening carefully, and the tight corners of her eyes softened as we shared a certain sorrow.

"I see that you understand our pain," she said, her voice still edged with sadness. "Perhaps this is a good thing."

"It does seem that we have the same problem," I answered softly.

"You must make haste, Brynhildr. We do not know how fast the poison will act or if it may eventually kill them. But remember one thing, Valkyrie." The muscles in her face tightened as she spoke. "Do whatever it takes to obtain a cure. If you fail, I will personally kill you."

I blinked, my heart thundering at her words. Having my life threatened was not the most calming of experiences. "But I thought you understood this wasn't my fault."

She shook her head, her cold, gold eyes unforgiving and hard. "You brought this evil to our door, Valkyrie. If you had not come to Muspell for Steinn's help, Siri's future would have played out very differently."

I bristled. How dare this woman blame me for the girl's predicament? Just seconds ago she'd seemed to understand, to sympathize with what Aidan had gone through. Now she was back to blaming Bryn. Figures. Nothing much changes in life, I guess.

I wanted to tell her what I thought of her, to scream out my defenses, but she chose that very moment, when my anger was at its most potent, to glance again at the sleeping girl. Pure love and pain and despair swirled within the golden flames of her eyes.

It was enough to bring my jaw to a clanging close. I understood so well what she was going through. Maybe not as a grandparent but as a loved one. I'd lost everyone throughout my sorry life. Everyone. But I still had hope that things would change. Guess I was slowly becoming a glass-half-full kinda girl.

I lifted my chin and met Lady Tyra's eyes. "I'll do my best, my lady." But it was a promise to Aidan, too. Whatever I did, it was for Aidan first. A cure for Siri meant a cure for the boy who still lay comatose in the frigid arms of Hel. The sooner I got my act together and found the cure, the better.

Lady Tyra glided toward a small half-circle table that sat before the window. She had a strange way of walking, as if she moved on wheels or floated. Weird.

A bronze box sat upon the table's polished wood surface, firelight and dragon light glinting off the carved veneer.

She carried the box to me, bearing it on her flattened palms. Etchings of dragons curled around the sides. For one amazing second it seemed as if they moved. As I stared harder, one dragon turned its head toward me and stared back; bright red ruby stone eyes met my gaze. Then it blinked very slowly. My jaw dropped, and the dragon froze in place.

More weird.

Tyra slipped her finger beneath the ancient catch and lifted the lid, revealing a liquid red silk. Within the shimmering fabric lay an amber ball that had all the signs of being alive. A flame flickered and danced within the confines of the translucent orange sphere.

"Take it." The woman clearly didn't understand the concept of requests.

Transfixed, I held the ball with great care, surprised by its warmth, and transferred it to the palm of one hand. Although the flame shimmered within its center, the whole sphere gave me the impression of an eyeball. As creepy as it was, it still looked beautiful—until it shocked me so badly I almost dropped it on the floor.

The bloody ball blinked at me.

"It is disconcerting, but it is nothing to be afraid of," Tyra said, a smile in her voice.