Forged by Fate

fields, while others left with spear and bow to hunt. No wonder Odin had changed him, hiding his godhead. In the heart of the Northlands, it was the only way to keep Sif from knowing where he had gone, and Loki from searching him out.

She glanced back at him when his steps slowed and smiled encouragement. “We will be grateful for any help you can offer us. Please. My father will make a place for you here.”

Thor returned her smile and matched his pace to hers. He would have time to consider the ramifications of his actions later. For now, he was with Eve and she seemed to be pleased to have him there. Her hand was warm within his and his heart eased. Perhaps, at least, they could know one another, and some good could come from all of this.

Chapter Ten: Present

Eve hugged her mother and father, kissing their cheeks. Her parents were the last of the line of well- wishers who had filtered through the house and out into the courtyard for the wedding rehearsal. A broad white canopy shaded the guests from the sun, and what looked suspiciously like storm clouds in the distance. The small chapel at the other end of the yard stood with its doors wide open, and Garrit’s father, Rene, was laughing with the priest. He was a friend of the family, she’d been told, not at all acquainted with the peculiar beliefs of the House of Lions. As a rule, the DeLeons were not religious, but the Catholic Church had held influence over France for a very long time and allying themselves with it had been the prudent choice. Eve couldn’t blame them, even now, and avoided speaking to the man altogether when it was possible. When it wasn’t, she limited herself to comments on the weather.

But guarding against offering some accidental heresy in conversation was almost a pleasant distraction from fearing for her sanity. Almost. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen anymore ghosts framed by lightning, and she wasn’t aware that Garrit had either.

“How was your trip, Mum?” Eve asked.

“Pleasantly uneventful,” her father replied, waving off the question. Her mother had already turned to Garrit, hugging and kissing him.

“Garrit, the wedding will be so lovely. We’re so thrilled to have you join our family. Abby has been so lucky to have found you,” her mother said. Anne Watson had little love for France, nor did she care much for the French themselves or anyone who claimed to be Catholic. Eve tried not to wonder if her mother would have loved her new son-in-law quite so much if he hadn’t been so wealthy.

Her father grinned and shook Garrit’s hand. “Glad to have you, son. Glad to have you.” His nose was already beginning to turn pink with the pre-dinner drinks.

“Mum, Dad, why don’t you go sit down? I want to just double check and be sure we have everyone.”

“Of course, of course.” Her father pumped Garrit’s hand once more and then hustled his wife away. “Let’s not embarrass the boy, now,” he mumbled to her mother as they went.

Garrit flexed his hand dramatically. “Bon Dieu, but your father has a grip. I’d forgotten.”

“I wish Rene hadn’t shown him to the port quite so soon.” She watched her parents greet others on their way to their seats, rows of chairs neatly arranged for the wedding rehearsal. Her father tripped over one of the chair legs, knocking three others out of line before righting the first and taking a seat. As if she weren’t already on edge, now she had to babysit her father.

“Just a few more hours, Abby. Then he can get as drunk as he likes, and no one will know the difference but us.”

“Until tomorrow at the wedding when he’s hung over and blustering.”

Garrit grimaced. “I’ll have Maman watch him.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Garrit’s family clustered together in smaller groups on the groom’s side of the aisle. Her family, sparse enough already, seemed even smaller in comparison. Not that it mattered, really. For Eve, family had always been a strange imposition, bonds to be balanced against lifetimes of knowledge she couldn’t share. Unless she had the good fortune to come home.

The DeLeons laughed together, every now and again shooting glances her way. Rene’s sister, Brienne, the matriarch of the family, had identified her the first time they had met. Rene’s two brothers had been a bit slower to catch on, but just as pleased when they had learned the truth. The House of Lions could not be happier to welcome her back into the fold.

It was Brienne who suffered from her father’s attentions, now. Juliette had probably asked her to keep an eye on the Watsons. Garrit’s aunt bore it well, though Eve could feel her bemusement. John Watson was an odd sort of man, especially after he started drinking. Better than her mother’s disdain, Eve supposed.

Garrit slid an arm around her waist, turning her slightly away from the door, just as one of the caterers opened it. Where had they found someone so immense? And with that shade of red-gold hair?

“I think that’s everyone, Abby. Pere Robert is ready to begin whenever we are.”

“Of course.” She swallowed hard, her throat tight, but when she glanced back over her shoulder the man was gone. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea that it had been her imagination any better. But now wasn’t the time. They had a wedding to rehearse, and Eve directed her attention to finding her maid of honor in the mob.

Her sister stood in the midst of a crowd of DeLeon cousins, a bright spot of red among the navies and blacks of their suits.

“Mia! We’re ready.”

Her sister winked at the men and excused herself. Garrit kissed Eve’s cheek and started herding everyone into their seats, collecting his best man, Luc as he went.

“Sorry about Dad, Abby.” Mia said, still flirting over her shoulder. “I really did try to keep him from the port. Have you seen Garrit’s cousins? They’re absolutely stunning!”

“A little bit of focus, Mia, if you don’t mind.” Eve snapped her fingers in front of her sister’s face until she had eye contact. “You’d think you were still in grammar school.”

“Easy for you to say—you’re marrying one of them.” Mia grinned at the group, which was still entirely too focused on her for Eve’s liking. One of them was mentally undressing her.

Eve tsked softly and gave him a pointed look until he noticed and grinned, dropping his gaze. Garrit’s cousin, Jean, his uncle Ryan’s only son. No doubt he had just remembered that one of Eve’s many gifts was mindreading.

She smiled slightly. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunity to get to know them later. At the moment, perhaps we can get through this rehearsal.”

“Oh, fine. Yes. Although the longer you drag it out the more sober Dad will be before the dinner starts and he can drink himself drunk again.”

“Merveilleux,” Father Robert said, raising his voice to be heard above the hum of conversation. “If we could have the bride and the groom up front, as well as their attendants. Everyone, please, take your seats.” The DeLeons quieted quickly at the call to order by the minister; the Watsons a bit slower.

Eve let Mia pull her by the hand to the front of the assembly, trying to ignore her father’s over-loud and absurd comment to her mother about Catholic mass.

Garrit took her hands in his and lowered his voice so only she could hear. “Just let it all play itself out, Abby, and we’ll be done here in no time.”

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek and whispered softly. “Your cousins are thinking very unchaste thoughts about my sister.”

Garrit chuckled and the priest cleared his throat before nodding to her parents. “Now, Mr. Watson, you’ll have walked Abby down the aisle and released her into Garrit’s capable hands. And the service will begin with a reading from the Old Testament.”

There was a chuckle from somewhere on the DeLeon side of the aisle. Garrit turned a snicker into a cough,