Fingers tightening on the rail, he fought down a sudden wave of nausea.
“Regretting past decisions?” Njord asked, ever perceptive.
“Why should I?” Thori snarled, all too well aware that all his failures and miscalculations had led him exactly where he was now. Collared and at the mercy of his worst enemy.
Njord’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at his challenging tone.
“Watch your tongue, thrall. This is neither the place nor the time for your insolence.”
Gritting his teeth, Thori fought down his anger. How he’d like to haul a fist into Njord’s smug face.
“Nervous about our arrival?”
“Should I be?”
“That depends entirely on how well you can behave yourself.”
“I’ve been the very picture of obedience, haven’t I,master?” Thori asked, his tone laced with just a hint of rebellion.
Njord chuckled as if truly amused.
“You’ve been the very picture of a spoiled prince playing at being a thrall.”
“I’mnot.”
“No? Then I’m sure you’ll settle effortlessly into your new home.”
Thori’s jaw clenched. How dare Njord call his imprisonment home?
“Thisrockwill never be my home, and I’m not yours.”
“And yet you wear my collar so beautifully.”
Incensed, he whirled to face Njord, ready to spit back some cutting retort, but the sea god had already lost interest in him, calling orders to his crew as they prepared to dock.
Bastard.
Thori’s fingers went to the collar, tracing the warm metal. It made him feel strange, vulnerable, like some pretty trinket to be admired rather than a warrior to be feared. He hated the feeling. Yet the way Njord looked at him wearing it—
Made Thori hate him even more.
Before he could do something stupid, like tackle Njord to the deck, shouts rang out from the fortress walls. Horns echoed across the water, and the massive sea gates began to groan open. Thori’s throat tightened, his anger unexpectedly shifting toward his father. How had Odin thought they’d conquer this monstrosity? Had he even cared? Or would it have been all the same to him if Thori had drowned with the rest of hiseinherjar?
As their longship glided through the gates, the sheer scale of the sea fortress struck Thori. What had always seemed like nothing more than a fortified rock to him revealed itself to be an entire city carved into the black stone. Harbors on multiple levels accommodated vessels of every description, from fishing boats to massive longships made for war. Markets and workshops lined the lower levels, while residential areas climbed the cliff sides in terraced rows.
“Welcome to Nóatún,” Njord said quietly, almost as if talking to himself, and the words sent another chill through Thori.
The docking was fast and efficient. Njord’s warriors certainly knew their trade, and soon the longship was secured in the serene waters of the harbor. After Njord had given orders to his warriors and had talked in hushed tones to hisvala, he turned to Thori.
“Come,” Njord said, finally stepping down from the helm. “Time to show you some things.”
“What things?” Thori snapped.
Could he possibly sound any more ominous? Thori hated being kept in the dark, hated being in a position where he couldn’t justdemandNjord tell him what was going on.
But it was no good dwelling on his anger. Following Njord, Thori was acutely aware of the stares they drew as they made their way through the crowds, some curious, some suspicious, and more than a few openly hostile when they recognized Thori’s distinctive blond hair and amber eyes.
They climbed winding stone steps carved directly into the cliff face, passing through several levels of the fortress city. The architecture was unlike anything in Asgard, and Thori could only marvel at the organic curves that seemed to flow like water, with arched doorways and spiral towers that caught and channeled the sea winds. Everything was built from the same black stone, but colored glass and hanging gardens softened the harsh lines.
