“But as a mortal I belonged to another,” she began and Wolf frowned.
“Haven´t you learned that pushing me isn´t a good idea?”
“I´m not trying to do that, I´m just trying to make you understand.”
“Understand what.”
Freya smoothed her hair, braiding it which was something she always did when nervous and Wolf´s eyes grew fervent as if he wanted to touch her hair.
“Do you know how god´s are made?”
“Yes, they begin as foolish girls who commit a crime and then they take their own lives in the river.”
“That´s only one way,” Freya said. “But there is another one and that´s how it was for me.”
“Tell me then,” he said between furrowed eyebrows. “What happened to you?”
“It was 1815 in early summer,” Freya said in a low voice because it always pained her to bring up the memory. “Phi…my fiancée had previously joined The British Army during the Napoleonic wars despite me telling him not to. I begged him in fact but he didn´t listen.” Freya pushed back her tears. “And then he died in the battle of Waterloo.”
“You still mourn his death?” Wolf said unsurely.
“Why wouldn´t I,” Freya asked and she was getting angry. “We were to marry, start a family together.”
“I don´t need the details,” Wolf interrupted her, his voice sounding sharp. “What happened later?”
“I was so stricken with grief that I went to the river and drowned myself.” Freya lowered her eyes, thinking about that early, rainy night in June. How she had felt as if she hadn´t had a choice and that the only choice was to reunite with Philip.
“You took your own life over a human?” Wolf asked in doubt and Freya nodded, biting her lip. “Are you lying to me?”
Freya gasped, staring at him in shock. How could he have known that she wasn´t telling him the full truth? She hadn´t told him that as she was about to get into the river, she had changed her mind. Thinking that this wasn´t what Philip would have wanted but when she turned around to go back home, she had seen a strange man standing by one of the maple trees.
Watching her.
“Why do you cry, fair mortal female?” he had asked, coming closer. Freya had been confused by his words but she had been too distracted by his peculiar appearance, to realize the danger. He was much taller than the men Freya had ever seen, but his shoulders and waist were narrow making him look almost womanly. The hair was a bright red but the brightness muted by his tanned skin. His eyes were an extraordinary auburn.
“My fiancé has died,” she whispered and to her surprise the strange man laughed. A cruel and content laughter that cut like knives.
“Forget about him,” the man said. “Swarog is here now. I will make it all better.”
Freya took a hesitant step back because she didn´t quite understand what he was saying. She had never heard another gentlemen be so direct. Freya was used to men who asked for her parents permission if they wished to speak with her on her own. But this one seemed to care little about such rules, standing almost unsuitably close to her.
“Who are you?” she asked, her knees shaking and her palms sweating and she scolded herself for having gone here in the first place. This was exactly why you didn´t leave the house without a chaperone!
“Swarog the Warden of Fire,” he said. It was such a peculiar name, sounding like something out of the opera or a strange book. Was this man playing some kind of game?
“What…what are you doing?” she asked when he stalked even closer and it felt as if she was standing next to a fireplace and her pulse quickened, her body trying to warn her.
“Fear not, I only wish to comfort you with my warmth.” The man was saying such odd, inappropriate things and he smiled at her uneasiness. And it was the most horrifying smile, Freya had ever seen. A corpse´s smile belonging to someone who knew torturous death well and savored it.
“I´d better go,” she had whispered, trying to run away when he grabbed her and she screamed in pain. His hands were burning her, leaving burns all over her skin.
“How I love it when they scream,” he murmured in delirium, trying to kiss her but she fought with teeth and nails which made him angry. He demanded her to stop but she refused, even when he threatened that he was going to drown her. His hands that brought pain held her head below the surface as Freya fought for her life…All up until her eyes suddenly shot open and strange women were peering down on her curiously.
“The river has brought us a new one,” one of them had said in a singing voice that made Freya feel like she had gotten drunk on wine. “The more the merrier, isn´t that so?” Her delicate hands curled around a poor man´s shoulder who was screaming his lungs off and Freya had wondered if she was in hell. “Welcome…”
“I asked you a question,” Wolf said, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“Ex…excuse me,” she stuttered. “How can you say something like that when I just poured out my heart to you?”
Wolf stared at her with cold eyes that made her want to hide.
“The frost is whispering that you´re keeping something from me.”
Damn that frost, Freya thought flustered. Such a know it all. If that frost ruined her plans…
“Like what?” She was getting nervous again, her hands pulling at her hair. If Wolf understood what was happening… She glanced at the door that was half open. Maybe she should just try to escape but then again how far would she manage to go before Wolf caught up with her? Probably no further than the hallway.
“They don´t know but they´re telling me you´re hiding something. Is that true?”
“No, the frost is wrong,” Freya said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “You
