Free Dark Deceit by Lauren Dawes

an
arrogant brow.
    ‘Pray, tell, what is that better way?’
    Skuld’s eyes dropped to the hands in her lap. ‘Might I be so bold as
to suggest you look to reconcile with Brynhildr? That is who Loki will
ultimately look for.’
    Odin squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Of course Loki would be coming
for her. She was his only weakness—even before she became his Valkyrie.
    Odin had been
walking among the humans on Midgard when he happened upon a small village by
the seaside. He was watching the humans as they toiled in the sun, sweat
beading off their brows. They were cleaning the nets they had used to catch
fish that morning, removing tufts of seagrass and other debris. Their knives
cut through the weeds, often catching a man’s fingers as he worked. Odin
wondered idly what it would be like to work like that, to sweat and bleed so
you could feed your family.
    He was watching one man in particular. His great broad shoulders
were wider than any other man’s, his arms and chest dotted with scars. His face
was stern, his blue eyes cold. Odin recognized what he really was. He was a
warrior unable to die an honorable death, too old to live and die by the sword.
    ‘Fadir!’ a young girl called. The man looked up, the harsh lines of
his face melting away as he looked at the young girl running toward him. She
couldn’t have been any older than twelve. Her blonde hair was the color of the
noon sun, her eyes the exact same shade as her father’s.
    The man scooped her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. The girl’s slim
arms wound around his huge neck, squeezing.
    ‘Brynhildr, what are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘Your mother would be
furious to know you have left the house.’
    The girl’s wide smile turned into a frown. ‘She’s making me sew
hides for the winter. I hate sewing,’ she
replied, exaggerating her words by pulling a face.
    The young girl’s father laughed at her, tapping the end of her nose
playfully. ‘You may hate it, but you’ll be thankful for those hides come
winter.’  
    ‘Odin?’
    The All-Father shook his head slowly, shrugging off the memories.
‘Brynhildr will not speak to me.’
    * * *
    L oki blinked rapidly,
his lids flapping around like they’d gone into spasm. It was so bright, and he
hadn’t even reached the mouth of the cavern yet. He had been picking his way
over the surface of the cave for an immeasurable amount of time, his bare feet
bleeding profusely; a wake of crimson smears trailing behind him.
    Loki shielded his eyes with a blood-stained hand and grunted as
another sharp shard of limestone bit into his heel. He propped himself up
against the cool wall for a moment, collecting his breath and his thoughts.
    ‘The caves will be closing in five minutes, folks. Five minutes,’ a
disembodied voice announced.
    Loki jerked upright, sliding into a cool shadow along the cave wall
before he could be seen. When he thought it was safe, he peered around the corner
and saw a man standing at the bottom of a long trail. He was wearing a
long-sleeved grey shirt with dark green pants. On his head was a large,
wide-brimmed hat.
    The man began walking up the track, herding the other humans with
him. Loki forced his body to move, to give him just a little more. He covered
the small distance at a hobble. Clambering over the smooth boulders at the foot
of the walkway, he climbed over the rocky divide, rolling onto the pathway that
had been filled with people no more than five minutes before.
    He lay there for a minute, letting the cold seep into his skin,
letting the knowledge that the world as he had known it was now gone. He knew
when he walked out of the mouth of his prison, he would be facing his new
future.
    Climbing to his feet slowly, he climbed the snaking walkway out of
the cave, clinging to the railings while his legs struggled with atrophy. Loki
finally emerged, staggering around in the dying light, drawing in deep breaths
of fresh, clean air.
    His watering eyes surveyed the landscape