Free Giants of the Frost by Kim Wilkins Page A

said, a cruel edge touching his voice. "Perhaps you should rely upon me as a friend instead of him."
    "Vidar is a good friend to me," she said, but was aware of how weak the protest sounded.
    "Do you know he plans to go to Midgard?"
    "He says he has no such plans."
    "I can tell. Lies lurk like dim fireflies in the eyes of their tellers. Have you any idea why he wants to go?" Aud thought about the seeing-water, but shook her head. "No."
    "And now you lie. You have some inkling, don't you?"
    "No. No, I don't. I don't know anything."
    "Are you protecting some secret of his?"
    "No."
    Loki leaned in close, his grip on her hands tightening. "Your loyalty is misplaced. He's not what he appears to be, Aud. Believe me. He has a cruel streak—"
    "He has always been good and kind to me," Aud interjected. "I don't like to hear bad things said of him." Loki released her hands. "And now all my pity has drained away. You should have accepted my kindness while it was offered. Now you can spend the rest of the day scrubbing pots. But when you do return to Gammaldal, take a message for Vidar. 'Only Loki can get past Heimdall.'" Aud found the menial work less complicated than the storytelling. As she worked she thought about Loki's assertion that Vidar was not all he seemed. When she considered the huge omissions she had made from her own story, she supposed nobody was as they seemed. Aud knew where the Norns lived still. But they held something very dear to her to ensure she never spoke of it. Only Loki can get past Heimdall.
    All through the long night, this message—offered solemnly and softly by Aud on her return—bound Vidar to wakefulness. Was it true? The question turned in his mind as a scrap of seaweed twists and dances in an ocean wave. Heimdall was a giant-killer and the most battle-hardened of the Aesir. His senses were keen, his loyalty to Odin keener. There was little chance of crossing the bridge unnoticed. Others could come and go to Midgard as they pleased. Loki went regularly, and was amassing a treasure trove of Midgard objects. Odin cared nothing for Loki's journeying, because Loki had never threatened to unravel the strands of fate that bound the Aesir. Vidar had. He had fallen in love with a mortal woman. Vidar turned under his blanket and watched the dying glow of the fire. Outside, a rain squall beat on the roof and shutters. The occasional drip popped and hissed on the dim embers. Secrecy was the key. And yet he must ask for Loki's help, a man who dealt in trickery and deception, in theft and blackmail, whose loyalties were as slippery and skittish as fish.
    Vidar acknowledged also a connection with Loki. Both of them were outsiders to the debauched and violent insanity of Valaskjálf; both of them despised the folk who shared their blood. Could their mutual abhorrence for their family bind them together in confidence?
    The rain passed as Vidar lay awake, tracing the patterns on the carved roof beams with his eyes. Softly, the sound of Aud muttering in her sleep became audible. Aud lay just beyond the door. Why couldn't he fall in love with her? She clearly loved him. She was beautiful and accomplished and noble, and many times he had caught a glimpse of her white arm, or the curve of her breast, and the ancient and ever-supple machinations of desire stirred in him.
    But desire was nothing without passion, without love. He still loved Halla, he would always love Halla. In some long-extinguished moment his soul and hers had brushed against each other, creating a friction that gathered into a spark, a flame, a mighty star. It was primal and eternal. He closed his eyes. His fingertips longed to touch her lips, his mouth longed to find the soft flesh at her wrists and elbows. Victoria . Could any misgivings about Loki really keep him away?
    He sat up and threw off the blanket, found his clothes and shoes. Dawn was scarcely an hour away. He let himself out of the house and headed for the stables to saddle his horse.