Reality struck like a bolt of lightning, and I squeaked and ran through the snow toward the drift. Frantically I dug at the white mass, shifting as much as I could with my hands.
“What did you do? Oh my god, what the fuck?!”
“I didn’t do a thing,” Bjarni drawled as he rummaged in the large rucksack for what he needed to make breakfast. “That was all Modi.”
“And you’ve just sat here for how many hours?” I hissed as black hair finally emerged. I scraped at the snow, digging the God of Mischief’s head free so I could turn him over. His face was blue and unmoving, purple bruising around his nose and cheekbone indicating broken bones.
“He’s dead! We were meant to bring him back alive!”
“He’s not,” Bjarni rumbled. “He’s a god—it takes a lot more than a bit of frostbite to kill one off. He’ll thaw out if we leave him by the fire for an hour before we move on.”
I stared down at what very much looked like a frozen corpse, right down to the frost in his black eyelashes. The temptation to leave him be danced at the back of my mind. This was the man who’d hurt my mate, who’d abandoned his own sons to their fate. Who’d killed innocent birds just to punish Bjarni. Who'd quite possibly brought about the end of the world.
But he was also our captive, and under our care. I got that Viking gods probably didn’t care much about the Geneva Convention, but despite everything I still had too much humanity left to torture the bastard.
I reached inside myself, finding my magic glowing and plentiful. It came easily when I beckoned and wrapped around Loki’s frozen form like a warm blanket.
“You shouldn’t waste your energy on him,” Bjarni said. “He’s not worth a drop of your essence.”
“We’re better than this,” I replied, voice not unlike my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Miller, who could make you sit straight and keep quiet with nothing more than a look. “He might be a prick, but we’re not. And we will treat our prisoner with some dignity.”
Bjarni grunted, sounding very much like he didn’t think he was better than this, but at least he didn’t argue.
I refocused on Loki, whose features were slowly turning white rather than blue. I tightened my magic around him, infusing his limbs with warmth until finally, his eyelids fluttered, and he drew in a raspy breath.
“Welcome back,” I said.
He only winced in response and I sighed at the sight of the damages to his face. Now that his blood was circulating again, both his nose and cheekbone looked extra terrible.
“If you promise to watch your mouth, I’ll try to heal that for you. But if you’re only gonna provoke Modi and Bjarni again, I’m not going to bother. It’s a lot of effort.”
The trickster god didn’t respond, but the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut rolled toward me, measuring me.
I pushed down the shiver of unease at his attention and reached for my magic once more. I was no expert on how to use it, but I remembered how Saga had guided me when I'd healed Magni. I did the same now, Loki’s injuries much more compliant than the infection that’d nearly taken my mate.
It didn’t take long before his skin only showed the faintest yellow marks, as if his injuries were weeks old.
Pleased with myself, I rocked back on my heels and smiled down at him. “There you are, almost as good as new.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice free from snark for the first time so far. “Now if you might also consider redoing my ties to a more dignified position…?
I snorted. “Sure. But just a word of warning—if you make an escape attempt because you think I’m some bleeding heart omega, you’re going to be very disappointed. You’ll spend the trip back to Asgard dragged face-down in the snow, and I’m not going to raise a finger to help you.”
“I’m starting to understand that you’re not a helpless little omega, human,” he said, arching an eyebrow at me. “It seems I made a better bargain with your ancestors than I realized at the time.”
“Hmm.” I wasn’t sure if it was flattery or not and decided it didn’t matter either way. Careful to keep my full focus on him, I undid the hogtie Modi had strung him up with, only to redo his binds with his wrists tied snugly in front of him, the golden glow from the rope I’d infused the prior day making me feel pretty safe. I’d never been a Girl Scout, but my magic hummed when I tested the fibers, reassuring me of its strength.
“Is there enough breakfast to feed him too?” I asked over my shoulder.
“He doesn’t need to eat,” Bjarni growled.
I sighed. I understood why my mate was so angry with his father, but starving him wasn’t going to make what he’d done any easier to cope with.
“Bjarni. Please. Feed him.”
The blond giant shot me a glare, but a few moments later he stomped over and dropped a wooden plate of fried bacon and beans by my side.
“Your breakfast is by the fire, once you’re done with him,” he said, turning away without so much as another look.
I heaved another sigh and placed the plate in Loki’s bound hands. It wasn’t going to be the most dignified way of eating for him, but so long as he propped the plate up on his knees, he’d manage. It was a fair few steps up from being literally frozen solid face-down in the snow.
“Thank you,” Loki said, his voice gentle. “Daughter.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t even try it. I’m not falling for your tricks again. I didn’t ask for you—I asked for him. He’s got a good heart, despite who sired him. I don’t want him regretting anything once you’re a head shorter and won’t be capable of eating ever again.”
His lips curled up in a wry smile. “I suppose that’s fair. He always was surprisingly gentle—considering the mother I sired him on. Hard as nails, that Jotunn bitch. At least he got her fighting prowess.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being gentle,” I said, eyes narrowing as a compulsive urge to defend my mate rose along my spine. “If more of you asshole gods considered it a boon, perhaps you wouldn’t be so busy trying to bring about the end of the damn world.
"Why? Why are you doing it? Even if you survive, what’s the point? To rule over a dark mass of nothing? Please, enlighten me.”
This time, Loki was the one to sigh. “I told you—I have nothing to do with this.”
“Several prophecies and a very pissed-off god-king suggest otherwise,” I said. “And I saw one of your other sons on our way here—big, serpent-like. Enjoys devouring ships and laying waste to the world. Ring a bell?”
“As I’m sure you’ve learned by now, prophecies can be manipulated. And I am not responsible for my offspring’s actions.” He motioned with his plate toward Bjarni. “Clearly. Did you know Odin has one of them in his stables? His own steed came from my loins.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry… are you saying Odin’s riding one of your sons? Like… like a horse?”
Loki snorted. “Well, it isn’t often people refer to Sleipner as a simple horse, but yes. Odin is more than happy to claim my spawn as a boon if it suits him. But if they’re trouble? I’m apparently behind it.”