Page 79 of Storm of Fury
“It’s a failing of mine when I’ve got something in my sights.”
“What do you want?” Hot green eyes flashed to his. “Do you want me to beg for forgiveness? Because if so, then you shall be left wanting. I don’t beg, Tormund.”
“No. I have a proposition for you.” He reached up to his neck, undoing the leather thong he wore tied around his throat. A ring dangled from it, made of solid gold and carved with ancient runes. He placed it on the table between them. “I need to find a way to see King Harald, but the security at his court is tighter than Haakon’s leather trousers. You get me in to the king and I’ll give you the ring.”
Bryn stared at it as though he’d thrown a snake onto the table between them.
“This is—”
“Yes,” he said bluntly. “It’s a ring that once graced the hand of the ljósálfar king’s finger, according to adrekiprince I met in Iceland. Andri claims it was the spoils of a long ago war, when thedrekiturned back the ljósálfar invasion and closed the portals that led to their home world of Álfheimr. I bet Andri for it, and I won. He’s bad at cards.”
“The king of the light elves’ ring,” she breathed. “And you believe him?”
“Drekican’t lie—and Andri is not the sort ofdrekiwho twists his words. I believe him.”
“This is worth a… a king’s ransom. Everydrekiin the world would kill to get their hands on it. If any of the ljósálfar remain here on the mortal plane, they would die to get it back. And you willgiveit to me for a chance to see King Harald?”
“That’s how you like it, don’t you? Payment.”
She trembled. “Yes. I do. But this is worth more than a mere boon. You could buy a castle with this. You could buy a dozen castles. You’re a fool to give it away.”
“So some have called me in the past. But this mere boon is worth more tomethan a simple ring. Or a thousand castles.” It was a chance to see if there was more between them than he dared hope. He rolled it between his fingers so the runes carved into the gold caught the light. “Yes or no, Bryn?”
“You’re asking me to betray the war marshal. I was named a Friend to theSaduClan, Tormund. Throwing that away is akin to cutting my throat.”
“But are you a Friend to the war marshal? Or to the king?” he countered. “I find it interesting that Solveig has Marduk locked far away from the court of her people. Isn’t that a little odd? If this entire endeavor is sanctioned by her father, then I will eat my trousers.”
Bryn’s fingers stilled on the scarred tabletop.
“Besides, she asked you to find him, didn’t she? Well, you did as asked. Now I’m asking you to help me help the king.” He forced a smile. “If Solveig kills Marduk, then King Harald will find himself with a war rather than an alliance.”
Bryn turned the ring on its end and spun it across the table before snatching it up. He felt as though a door just slammed in his face.
“As you wish,” she said. “Payment taken for services rendered. I’ll take you to see Harald, but be warned: he’s adrekiking. He’s not the kind of man to bow to mere mortals, and Solveig gets her temper from somewhere.”
Marduk had said he was an honorable creature. “I’ll take my chances.”
She pushed away from the table. “And then we are done, big man.”
Tormund drained his ale, before slamming the tankard down. Done was far too final a word for what he had in mind, but she wasn’t ready to hear that yet. “And then you owe me no further debt.”
* * *
The entranceto theSaduclan court lay at the top of a mountain.
For once, Tormund didn’t complain about the hike. Bryn felt his silence like an unspoken censure.
At the top of the mountain, a weathered timber door led into a house-shaped mound that was covered with grass. A wizened old man sat at the door, smoking a pipe and watching them stride toward him.
“I thoughtdrekicourts lay in the hearts of volcanoes,” Tormund murmured.
“This is merely the entrance. The portal to the actual court lies within,” she replied.
It could have been any other underground homestead across Norway. And the guard could have been a shepherd, if not for the alert golden glint in his eyes and the sheer size of him as he stood. “Are you lost?”
“Not lost, no.” Bryn cleared her throat, drawing a second cord from around her throat and revealing the small golden claw that hung there. “I am here to seek audience with your king.”
The guard glanced toward Tormund, but the claw pronounced her a Friend of the clan. He finally nodded her through. “No weapons.”
