"Fine." She rolls her eyes. "But only because saying no would probably cause some sort of diplomatic incident."
"Excellent!" Baldr's tone suggests we should be honored by his approval. Smug bastard. "Perhaps you could portal us? The journey is half a day's ride otherwise."
Oh fuck. Gullfax is going to throw a whole royal equine tantrum about this. That stallion's got more attitude than a longhouse full of drunk Vikings.
"Only if Gullfax comes with us," Dani cuts in, her tone brooking no argument. Clever girl—better to face the horse's attitude now than deal with his sulking later.
"As you wish." Baldr sighs like he's indulging a particularly annoying request.
"Wait—where are Erik and Bryn?" Dani's brow furrows as she scans the courtyard like she's just now realizing they're suspiciously absent. Her eyes widen, a slow grin spreading across her face as realization dawns. "Do you think...?" She presses her hands to her mouth, trying and failing to muffle a giggle.
I can't help but smirk. About damn time; my brother pulled his head out of his ass and did something about that tension. If the way Bryn tore after him last night is any indication, they're either still going at it or passed out cold somewhere.
"I'll find him." And hopefully, not walk in on anything that'll scar me for the next century. I reach out with my senses, searching for my brother's signature.
I zero in on Erik coming from the fucking stables of all places. Well, can't say I expected that location for their first time, but then again, I once took Dani at a Masquerade Ball.
The frozen ground crunches under my boots as I cross the courtyard. Each exhale creates clouds in the frigid morning air. The stable doors creak open at my touch, but Erik is nowhere in sight.
A familiar snort draws my attention. Gullfax's big-ass head appears over his stall door, and the smug bastard is snickering—bobbing his head like he's got the world's best secret.
"Hey, buddy." I reach for his velvety nose. "Have you seen—"
The words die in my throat as I see what's behind Gullfax. There's my brother, sprawled in the hay like he's been hit by Thor's hammer, clutching a bladder of mead like it's his last friend in the world. The devastation across his face tells me everything I need to know about how last night went down.
Fuck.
"Hey, brother." The words scrape past the sudden tightness in my throat. "That bad, huh?"
Erik's laugh is a broken thing, sharp enough to cut. He lifts the bladder to his lips, missing half his mouth as mead streams down his chin. His silver eyes are glazed, unfocused—he's been at this a while. "Your powers of observation remain unmatched, brother." The words drip with that familiar dry sarcasm, but there's something darker underneath.
Gullfax shifts aside with a gentle pat to his chest, letting me into the stall. The hay crunches under my weight as I sink beside Erik, the scent of alcohol and despair thick in the air. "What happened? I thought—"
"Your optimism was misplaced." Erik's precise, measured tone cracks at the edges. His fingers tighten around the bladder until his knuckles turn white. "The logical conclusion I predicted has come to pass. She wants nothing of the mate bond." Another long pull from the bladder. "Nothing of me."
My jaw locks sohard I taste blood. Fuck. This is worse than bad—this is catastrophic. I've heard the stories, the aftermath when a vampire's mate rejects them. The darkness creeps in, eating away at their sanity until there's nothing left but a feral beast. The thought of Erik—my brother, my right hand—losing himself to that kind of madness makes my beast howl in rage.
"Hey." I grip his shoulder, feeling the tension coiled beneath my fingers. "This isn't over. I know what I saw—"
"You saw what you wanted to see." Erik's words slur slightly, his usual precise diction fraying at the edges. He waves the bladder in a mockery of his typical controlled gestures. "Your powers of observation are... questionable at best when it comes to matters of the heart, dear brother." He misses his mouth again as he takes another drink, mead spilling down his chin.
His silver eyes, usually sharp as steel, are clouded with something more than just alcohol. "Our fierce Valkyrie"—his voice catches on the word—"has clarified her position. Duty to Ásgard comes first. Can't have a mate mucking up her grand destiny." A bitter laugh escapes him. "After the whole prophesied mate disaster with you, she's determined not to repeat history's mistakes."
The false lightness in his tone pisses me off. He's trying so hard to maintain his usual analytical facade, but the cracks are showing—in his voice, his hands shake, and the despair rolling off him in waves. "And did sheactuallysay any of this?" I arch an eyebrow at him. "Or are you just sitting here making assumptions like the overthinking bastard you are?"
"Oh, yes." Erik fumbles for another drink, mead sloshing. "She made her feelings quite clear." His speech slurs into something bitter and raw. "Right to my face. Quite... efficient about it."
Fuck this. I snatch the bladder from his grip, ignoring his protest as I haul him to his feet. My palm connects with his cheek—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to focus those glazed silver eyes. "Enough of this pathetic bullshit. You think I got my mate by sitting in the fucking stables drowning in mead?"
Erik sways like a tree in a storm, trying and failing to fix me with his usual stern glare. "Brother—"
"No. You're going to listen." My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding him steady. "You think Dani just fell into my arms? That she didn't fight this every step of the way? I had to chase, convince, and show her what we could be. And I didn't give up." My voicedrops lower, rougher. "If you roll over and accept this, we'll lose you. All of us. Even Dani. And I won't fucking let that happen."
Erik's finger wobbles as he points it at my chest, his usual dignity entirely undermined by how he can barely stand straight. "Brother…." He draws the word out like he's giving a lecture, though his hiccup somewhat ruins the effect. "I am not you. I don't... I won't be some barbaric caveman, taking what isn't freely wanted."
"For fuck's sake." My fingers rake through my hair as I stare at my brother's pathetic drunk ass. Playing matchmaker isn't exactly my forte, and this shit's wearing thin. "I'm not telling you to drag her off by the hair, you dramatic bastard. Just..." The words stick in my throat. Maybe Dani should handle this—she's better at the emotional crap. "Don't give up, Erik. And for the love of Odin, stop this pitiful shit. We need you functioning. Starting with getting you sobered up."
The water trough looms outside the stable doors—a behemoth of carved stone big enough to water a dozen war horses at once. The morning frost has left a thin sheet of ice across its surface, and the water beneath promises to be balls-freezing cold.
