Mist

well as his mind. In readying Mist for her ultimate destiny, he had thought at most he would be dealing with mere traces of Jotunar magic along with a little of her mother’s instincts, and then only for a brief time.

His mistake had been costly. He had truly been unprepared to learn that the Slanderer had not only found Gungnir, but had also been living with Freya’s daughter. The fact that Loki knew so much— and had so flagrantly broken the rules of the game— had been a considerable shock.

Dainn had intended to protect Mist, prepare her and hold her in ignorance of her ultimate fate, as he had been instructed to do. He had deliberately concealed her true heritage. But it had been impossible to keep Mist from following Laufeyson, impossible to prevent her from confronting him. To do so by any means other than physical force might have weakened his control and put her at even greater risk.

So she had come to Asbrew, and it was here that he had experienced an even more profound understanding of her soul than he had ever wished or intended. He had seen under that bold facade. Beneath her confidence lay uncertainty and deeply buried fears, dissonant notes of doubt in her own competence and worthiness to exist. Doubts she revealed to him only in her fear that it was Freya’s power, not her own, that had sent Loki into flight.

Ordinarily Dainn could have played upon those doubts. He had failed, and he had no one to blame but himself.

He shifted position, unable to settle into that calm state of dispassion that had saved him so often over the long years. Freya had swept into Mist’s mind without warning, without informing Dainn of her intentions, before either he or Mist was ready. She had behaved rashly, determined to make her presence known to Loki without regard for the consequences. Now Loki believed she could act in this world through Mist, and he would be ready the next time.

Dainn would not. Because when Mist had fallen under the mantle of Freya’s power, he had seen just what would be destroyed when the Lady came to fulfill her purpose.

And that was when his doubts had begun to take hold. Dangerous, gnawing doubts about his mission, about what he had agreed to do to rid himself of his curse. And he had fallen— fallen so far that he had offered Mist a way out.

“You need do nothing. Walk away, Valkyrie,” he had said, knowing all the while that her acceptance of his offer would mean the end of his hope for salvation.

But he had been saved from his own folly. His warning had fallen on deaf ears. Mist had defended him from Vidarr. She had chosen to continue working with him even though she knew what he had done. Even though she had seen his anger, the seething rage that he should never have allowed her to witness.

As long as all she saw was his anger, he was safe. If she had found the beast . . .

He shook his head, though there was no one to witness his denial save for the man at the table, insensible with drink. She hadn’t found it—or if she had, she’d obviously doubted the validity of her own observation. But she would see it again if he did not take extreme care.

Now that he had a chance to recover what he had almost thrown away, he had to know what the Lady had seen for herself.

He looked toward Vali. Odin’s less volatile son still seemed to be in a stupor, but Dainn couldn’t afford to take the chance. He sang a sleeping spell, woven from the scent of flowers that had grown only in Alfheim, and waited until he heard a loud snore erupt from Vali’s slack lips.

Settling down again, Dainn opened his mind. He sang a new song, a song of primroses, of love long lost, of yearning, of hope beyond hope.

“Dainn.”

He bowed his head, the Lady’s power pressing down on him like the weight of thousands upon thousands of fragrant blossoms, and for a moment he was unable to feel anything but the white heat of her love.

“I hear,” he whispered.

“Where is my child, my Mist?”

“She is well, Lady,” he said.

“And Loki? ”

“He escaped with Gungnir.”

Freya’s disembodied voice caressed him. “Gungnir is of no importance at the moment. I am more concerned with how the Slanderer managed to escape my notice until now. His behavior flies in the face of the rules, and he knows that I am no longer ignorant of it.” Dainn felt her smile. “It’s most fortunate that I sensed what was happening before he harmed her.”

Dainn shivered. He had taken precautions to make sure that the Lady could not read more than his surface thoughts, but even that could be dangerous. It was far better for him to give her as much information as was necessary to allay any concerns on her part. He could not afford to have her angry with him.

“I could not reach you,” he said. “I am grateful your wisdom is so much greater than my own.”

She was much too vain to grasp his sarcasm. “How did she respond after I left?”

“Your daughter believes it was her own magic that drove Loki away.”

The Lady’s sigh was the caress of a butterfly’s wing against his cheek. “You did right to tell her who she is and make her believe she alone won the skirmish. If she becomes suspicious, this will be much more difficult.”

“You overcame her will, Lady,” he said.

“At some risk,” she chided. “I knew she would possess natural talent, but I underestimated the extent of it.”

“As did I,” Dainn said.

“Which is why you must discover the scope of her abilities and make certain she has the necessary instruction to accept me. I cannot waste my magic on fighting my daughter’s mind and spirit when the time comes.”

“I will do my best.”

Her response was almost playful. “Such humility,” she said. “You were not always so.” The lightness left her voice. “I took a great chance in helping you now. I will need all my resources to send my allies to Midgard. I rely on you to see that Mist is not put in jeopardy again.”

Dainn envisioned his mind contracting until there was no possibility that Freya would feel his true emotions. Lie upon lie he had told Freya’s daughter, like many seasons’ worth of autumn leaves piled one layer upon another, awaiting a spark to set them aflame.

“Forgive me, Lady,” he said, bowing his head lower still.

“It is forgotten,” Freya said, so gently that Dainn’s empty stomach heaved with the knowledge of what lay behind that gentleness. “I will not be so generous with my enemy.” She sighed, sending delicate zephyrs wafting around Dainn’s head. “Loki must always have known that Mist was my daughter, even in Asgard. It is unfortunate that he has discovered the strength of the connection between us, but at least he now realizes that he underestimated me, and so long as he believes I can appear in my daughter’s stead whenever I choose, he will not so brazenly attack her again.”

“Even that belief will not stop him forever.”

“He is and has always been a coward. He attempted to escape Midgard with Gungnir, did he not?”

“And found the bridge inaccessible,” Dainn said. “Mist and I also discovered that the one Hrimgrimir used has vanished as well. Did you find a way to close them?”

“Why would I do so when I intend to use them myself?” she asked, the faint scent of primroses turning sour.

“Yet now they are being uncreated,” Dainn said. “Coward or not, Loki still has all the advantages. The plans we made may no longer be effective.”

“Do you still fear him so much, my Dainn?”

Such a tender punishment, Freya’s mockery. She knew what he most feared.

“You have no concern that the bridges may no longer function?” he asked.