“So, you’ve seen through my disguise, huh?” Njord’s voice was soft and puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite believe Thori had managed to figure out his spell. “Very impressive for someone who isn’t even avala. How are you feeling?”
Thori leaned his head more comfortably against Njord’s shoulder, too exhausted to worry about the inappropriateness ofaccepting cuddles from an enemy, and smug about the fact that he was able to surprise Njord.
“—’m tired.”
Gently, Njord ran a cloth across Thori’s body, whispering incantations. Only now did Thori realize that the water was infused with herbs; the fresh smell calming to his frayed senses.
“You’re going to feel better soon.”
Washing away the last remnants of the oil Svanhild had used, Njord snapped the threads of herseiðrone by one. Thori could feel it; the relief making him lightheaded.
“I’ve seen her,” Thori mumbled, and Njord’s hand stilled where it was splayed against Thori’s abdomen. It was the exact place the festeringseiðrhad clung to him during the vision.
“Who?”
“Jökull, she—”
Njord’s hand shot up and closed around his throat in an instant.
“Donottalk about her. I forbid you to speak her name!”
“But—”
“No. If you want to live, then youwillobey me. You will call me Norrin—no, better, you will call memaster, and you won’t tell anyone who I really am.”
Gripping Njord’s wrist on instinct, angry sparks arose from Thori’s fingertips. They connected with Njord’s skin with a satisfying sizzling sound.
“Ouch!”
Njord let go of him, and Thori turned around, scrambling backward until his back touched the other end of the tub. His triumph was short-lived as a wave of dizziness hit him.Hel, he wouldn’t be able to procure another harmless spark like this without passing out in the process.
“Sorry,” Thori yelped. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“Didn’t you?”
Njord’s gaze was stormy, an angry sparkle shimmering in the depths of his gray eyes. And he had every reason to be angry with Thori, didn’t he?
“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry…master.”
Thori’s vision swam. He shouldn’t address Njord with such reverence, yet it felt natural to submit. It calmed him more than he’d like to admit, and he could practically feel Njord’s anger abating at his words. Overcome with an immense feeling of relief, Thori swayed forward. Njord caught him, easing him down against his chest.
“What am I supposed to do with you, Odinsson?”
Njord sounded in equal measure frustrated and astonished, and Thori didn’t have an answer for him. Breathing in Njord’s scent, he felt his eyes starting to droop.
“We won’t speak of the past for now, yes?”
“Yes, master.”
He was deceiving Njord, Thori told himself. He would lull him into a false sense of safety by playing the docile thrall, so that once his time came, he could crush his enemy. Yes, that was exactly what a son of Odin would do. Relaxing some more in Njord’s embrace, Thori relished the feeling of warmth surrounding him.
After a few seconds, Njord resumed pouring water over his back, gently removing what was left of Svanhild’s oily concoction. Njord hummed under his breath.
“So, you can be good if you want to.”
His words were honeyed, almost like praise. Thori liked it.
“Am I allowed to talk about the future?”
