Chuckling, Svanhild stepped away from them. Finally. She brushed more blood from her hands onto her already-stained dress.
“As you wish. He’s yours now. Enjoy your prize.”
She swept out of the tent, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. Njord turned his attention back to Thori. His trembling had subsided, but he was still breathing unevenly.
Njord sighed deeply. He was glad to finally be rid of Svanhild. But as he took in Thori’s pitiful state, his irritation warred with an odd sense of responsibility.
“You’re useless like this,” Njord muttered.
He really was. It was the sensible thing to let Thori recover for a bit before he put him to work. He guided his thrall to the bed, and Thori leaned heavily on him for support. With a muttered curse, Njord eased him down onto the furs.
Collapsing onto the soft surface, Thori went limp with exhaustion, his hands coming up to tear furtively at the collar again. He hissed, his face contorting in pain.
Was Svanhild trying to steal some of Thori’s power for herself? Njord didn’t like the idea one bit.
“What’s thatseiðr? Let me have a look.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what she did.”
Thori was frantic, a warrior fighting down his panic in the face of battle. Only Njord had seen him confront a dragon without so much as flinching. So, what did that say about Svanhild’sseiðr?
“Hold still,” Njord commanded.
Perched on the edge of the bed, he swatted Thori’s hands away to examine the collar. The snake moved under his fingertips as soon as he extended hisseiðrto inspect Svanhild’s work, coiling tighter around Thori’s neck.
Thori froze, amber eyes full of panic.
This wouldn’t do at all.
Grabbing the golden snake with both hands, Njord let hisseiðrroll over Svanhild’s wretchedblótmagic like a wave.
Thori gasped, clutching Njord’s forearms as if he were drowning and Njord the only thing keeping him afloat.
Cutting through Svanhild’s foulseiðrfelt like hacking at the rotten flesh of adraugrwith a blunt sword. He could sense the dread of the unfortunate thrall she’d butchered to forge the collar, and underneath it all, Thori’s untamed power, trying to break free. It felt like a thunderstorm on the high seas, deadly and glorious, and it surged at Njord as soon as he opened the doors of its prison.
He’d expected Thori to try to fight as soon as he was free, but he offered no resistance at all as Njord guided him away from Svanhild’s prison only to trap him again. Still, Njord was careful to coil hisseiðrgently around Thori’s power rather than violently subduing him as Svanhild had done. He could only imagine how awful it must have felt to be entangled in her rottenseiðr. No wonder Thori had been so frantic when he spotted the collar.Blót seiðrwas a nasty thing at the best of times, but when Svanhild wielded it, it was truly awful.
Njord blinked.
His mind focused. He was back in the tent, Thori wrapped in his arms, clinging to him in return.
“She’s gone now,” Njord said. “I’ve shut her out.”
It was true. He’d driven Svanhild away. He could feel it, her raging anger. It amused him.
Thori took a shuddering breath.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
Why, Njord hadn’t expected courtesy from Odinsson.
He should push him away now; he really should. But the way Thori clung to him, his powerful thunder nestling against his own power…it felt almost trusting.
And Thori must be tired. First the whipping, then Svanhild’sblòtmagic, and if the bruises dotting his skin were anything to go by, Sveinn’s men hadn’t treated him kindly either. Njord’s gaze followed the nasty bruising starting high on Thori’s cheekbone and running down his neck to his shoulder. The collar still sat snugly against Thori’s throat and—
Njord froze.
The collar!
