Someone had lifted us out of the cold mud and put us into the warm heap of hay currently feeding not just the lamb, but at least thirty other sheep.
“Good morning, my sweet princeling.”
I startled and rolled back toward Ellie.
Titania leaned over her daughter as she peered at my face. “Why, aren’t you the problem solver!” She winked.
She’d changed out of the stolen dryad armor into a tightfitting white snow-bunny ski jacket and matching pants, complete with white gloves and a pair of goggles sitting on Ellie’s bright yellow pompom hat.
“Titania,” I said.
“You remember my name. Good. Do you remember your own, young man?” She nodded toward the tree as if to insinuate that it had drained a lot more than energy.
“Frank Victorsson,” I said.
“And who’s your daddy?” She grinned like a trickster.
“I am the adopted son of the King and Queen of Alfheim, Arne Odinsson and Dagrun Tyrsdottir.”
She nodded sagely. “Good answer.”
I snorted.
Titania bopped her daughter’s nose. Ellie sighed again. Her fingers wiggled next to her face, but she didn’t wake up.
“She does the sleeping princess thing so well.” Titania grinned. “Your little plan worked exactly as it was supposed to.”
Why was I surprised the Queen of the Fae had known exactly what would happen? Then again, maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she just wanted me to think she had. “I don’t think the cottage will move again, even if you try to force it,” I said.
She shrugged. “Not my problem anymore.”
All the hell she’d caused, and she shrugged it off? “What about your husband?” I asked.
Titania stood up straight and pressed her fists into her waist in a very Akeyla-like move. “The handsome elf gave me half his sheep and several hives of his finest honeybees in exchange for… things.”
I carefully pulled my arm out from under Ellie and sat up. “What things, Titania?” A deal had been struck, but with what consequences? There were always consequences.
She grinned and shrugged again.
But that grin vanished into her awe-invoking Dread Queen stare. “Neither your King, his Second, nor I wish to face the next Ragnarok unarmed.” She looked up at the top of the ash tree. “I am afraid that such deals, while they ease the tension of the monarchs, make the lives of our paladins much, much more difficult.”
The ease granted by the magical sleep evaporated into tightening neck and back muscles. Those consequences would come calling, and probably soon. “And what precisely do you mean by that, Queen Titania?”
She touched the tip of her nose, then pointed at me. “The thing is, my dear big ball of exhilarating handsomeness, that you’re not really the Odin elves’ paladin, now are you?” She nodded sagely once more.
I wasn’t anyone’s paladin. Except, perhaps, the woman sleeping next to me. I’d fight to the death to protect her.
The sweetness of the smile lighting up Titania’s face surprised me, and when she leaned in and stroked my cheek, I was just as surprised by the tenderness of the touch. “What did my daughter call that expression? Your lack-of-poker face?” She kissed my lips. “I will bet on you any day, my dear young man.”
I think my mother-in-law likes me, danced through my head as uncalled and random as any of my more problematic thoughts.
Titania pulled the goggles down around her neck and laid the hat gently next to Ellie’s head. “I will give you a boon for your defense of my daughter.”
Don’t do it, I thought. Never ever make deals with the fae. Except this fae liked me. And I was already one hundred percent in. “… Okay,” I said.
Her fingers danced. She shifted her feet, wound up her arm, and pitched a ball of magic at my face.
I took it head on. It’d hit me no matter what, so why not let the fae magic do what the fae magic was going to do?
It hit with a twinkle and a tingle, and burst into a bright cloud of magical dust.
She’d given me back my mate magic.
“Thank you,” I said.
Titania looked out over her new flock of healthy, happy, prime New Zealand sheep. “Nice to see that Odinsson raised you with good manners,” she said. “Kids these days don’t know their pleases and thank-yous from a hole in their brain-sucking machines.” She mimicked dancing her thumbs over a phone screen.
I chuckled.
The Queen of the Fae laughed. “You fought well for my daughter,” she said. “You and that jealous axe of yours.” She pointed at the ground next to our pile of hay.
Sal and her new scabbard rested on her own dry pile just out of reach.
The scabbard looked different. The bag was the same, but small tendrils of green and red magic danced with the blue and purple elven enchantments.
Titania touched her lips and shook her head as if to tell me not to speak of what I saw. I nodded to indicate that I understood.
“Ragnarok is a cycle.” She stared out at the sky. “But I suspect you understand that already.”
I didn’t want to think about Ragnarok right now. I just wanted a day of touches with Ellie.
Titania looked me right in the eye, as if to say listen. “The new one’s been in the making for two-hundred-plus years.” And then the Queen of the Fae, and all her sheep, vanished.
Two-hundred-plus years. The length of time since my rebirth. And Brother’s.
I looked down at Salvation. She’d been forged in the fires of a Ragnarok.
A small, weird little thought poked at the back of my mind: Had I been, as well?
Ellie stirred. She stretched and yawned, and wiggled like an exquisite cat. “Is this…” She picked up a handful of hay. “Straw?”
My mate magic welled up around my hands. It wanted to touch. I wanted to touch—but I was morning cold, even with the magical hay. “I think your mom wanted to make sure we didn’t freeze during the
