“Always.” The dwarf grinned. “There’s nothing like a good disemboweling to liven up tedious diplomatic talks. Especially if you get the opportunity to see gods fight.”
“The night is still young,” Thori said haughtily, reaching for his drink. “And my patience grows thinner with each passing hour.”
“Bold words for an untried warrior,” Njord spat.
“Untried? Have you forgotten how my spear found its mark when I saved my fleet from your magical monster?”
He regretted the words instantly as a look of hurt crossed Njord’s face, there and gone in a second.
“The sea forgets nothing. I forget nothing,” Njord growled, his voice low enough that only Thori could hear. “And whatever comes out of these peace negotiations, be assured that Iwillhave my revenge.”
“Isn’t the ale to your liking, Shipbreaker?” Lofarr asked from his seat, probably sensing that the negotiations in his hall were only one careless word away from turning bloody.
“I do not drink.”
If the king of theDvergarwas taken aback by the sea god’s blunt words, he didn’t show it. He grinned knowingly instead.
“What about other entertainment?” Lofarr boomed. “What a dismal affair this feast is. I thought theÆsirknew how to celebrate! I will not stand for this. Bring dancers, bring music!”
With a clap of the king’s hands, the hall was filled with the sound of drums and singing voices. Pretty dancers clad in flimsy silk caroused around the table, and the huge pillars of the hall, and Njord’s lip curled in an almost disgusted snarl.
Thori couldn’t take this disgraceful act anymore. Jumping up from his seat, he slipped away between the dancers. He wanted to slay something, summon his thunder, and roast a monster or a giant to smoldering ashes. At the very least, he wanted to escape Njord’s unsettling proximity.
He found one of the hall’s many balconies, overlooking the vast forges of Nidavellir, where molten rivers flowed like fiery blood through the mountain’s veins. The heat rising from below did little to temper his anger and humiliation. It also didn’t help that he knew his father’s disappointment would come later, in private, but no less cutting for his discretion.
“Look who’s hiding in the shadows.”
Thori whirled around to find Njord standing in the archway to the balcony, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. In the reddish glow of the forges below them, Njord looked dangerous,like a warrior king of old sprung from the legends his mother had always sung to him.
Couldn’t this bastard leave him alone for even a minute?
“What do you want, Shipbreaker?”
“To study my enemy so that I may know how to bring about your demise,” Njord replied levelly. “Though I don’t see much to worry about except ruthlessness and pride. The bane of theÆsir.”
“I see nothing wrong with that,” Thori hissed. “Unlike you cowardlyVanrsorcerers, we Asgardians have honor. And we prefer to speak with the sword.”
“Because this worked out so well for you when you attacked Nóatún.”
Njord’s taunting made him bristle. It made it hard to breathe through the anger.
“I’m not sure if I’d call Nóatún a mistake. I killed your monstrous serpent, did I not?”
Njord’s eyes flashed, his calm composure finally cracking.
“Is it true then? Did your father send you to lure out a dragon?”
“Can you call it a dragon in the first place? It seemed more like a beast from the Frostland realm to me,” Thori replied with his most scornful smirk.
But despite his flaunted boastfulness, Thori’s stomach turned. There was no love lost between the realms of Asgard and Vanaheim for sure, but his father’s justifications for the raid, his stories of the stolen treasures, had sounded off from the start. Mother hadn’t been thrilled, but Thori had thought, hadhoped, that he had been presented with the opportunity to prove himself.
Njord moved closer, and Thori found himself backed against the stone balustrade.
“Stop,” Thori warned, lightning dancing between his fingers.
But Njord didn’t stop, stepping so close their chests were almost touching. Thori hated that he had to look up at the other warrior. He seldom felt small, but next to Njord—
“Foolish little prince. I was there when the Norns announced your fate through the High Priestess. Part of a delegation to witness the birth of Odin’s heir. I saw how your father’s eye gleamed when she spoke of glory won through conflict. He’s been using you as a pawn to achieve his ambitions ever since, just as he uses everyone else to further his goals.”
