“Justice?” Thori whirled around, his anger finally boiling over. “How can you speak of justice after you drowned a man like an unwanted dog?!”
Leveling him with a stern glare, Njord stepped closer, and Thori had to fight down the urge to retreat.
“I’m Njord of the sea, and if anyone breaks the laws of my realm, if anyone is as cruel and greedy as Egil had been, then I will send the sea to take them.”
The words shook Thori to the core.
Breaking the laws of theVanir? Being cruel and greedy? That’s surely how Njord saw theÆsir. Especially Thori. And that meant—
“Did you enjoy watching him die?” Thori spat.
“I take no pleasure in death.” Njord’s eyes flashed dangerously, but his voice remained level. “But I won’t hesitate to deliver it when justice demands it. When I pass judgment, I watch it carried out. That’s the burden of ruling.”
“Burden?” Thori laughed bitterly. “You looked comfortable enough watching him drown.”
“Is that so?” Njord’s expression was unreadable. “Tell me, little prince, how many executions have you witnessed? How many doomed men have you killed yourself?”
“Dozens,” Thori replied with fierce pride. “And I’d kill dozens more to uphold the rules of Asgard. But theÆsirkill with honor.”
“Egil wasn’t deserving of honor, though. He skinned a man alive for gold, practiced forbiddenseiðrthat could corrupt the very land. Would you have shown him mercy?”
“I would have executed him cleanly. A sword. A clean strike. Not drown him like a rat in a cage.”
“A sword is too good for such filth. Let him taste the terror his victim felt. Let the sea judge him as he judged others.”
“Pah! Everyone knows the useless cruelty of theVanir!”
“Careful, thrall.”
But Thori was past caring about consequences. The image of Egil’s desperate face pressed against the cage bars was still fresh in his mind, and all he could think about was Njord’s promise delivered after that disastrous raid.
Drowning isn’t a pleasant way to die.
“What’s next, then?” Thori snarled, stepping closer despite every instinct screaming at him to retreat. “Will you display me like a gilded prize? Make me serve mead to your warriors while they mock me?”
“If that’s what I choose. Yes.” Njord’s calm was infuriating. “You are mine to do with as I please.”
“I belong to no one! I’m a prince of Asgard, I’m the god of storm and thunder, and I will not—”
“You’ll do exactly as I command,” Njord said, still so very calm.
He closed the distance between them, backing Thori up against the damp stone wall and trapping him in place with a firm hand on his chest. Thori tried to control his breathing, but it was no use; his breath too quick to convey a calm he didn’t feel. Trapped between Njord’s solid body and the cold stone, he felt more vulnerable than he’d ever admit, and his thunder stirred restlessly beneath his skin, lightning begging to be released. But the cursed collar held it in check.
“This is your punishment. You’re mine, and the sooner you accept that, the easier all of this will be.”
“I will never accept it,” Thori growled, meeting Njord’s stormy eyes with all the defiance he could muster. “Never.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other; the wind whipping around them and the sound of waves far below filling the silence.
Then Njord stepped back.
“We’ll see about that. Come. It’s time we returned to my chambers.”
The walk back through the fortress passed in tense silence. Thori kept his head high, ignoring the curious stares of Njord’s people, but he had to hide the trembling of his hands by balling them into fists. The image of the drowning cage wouldn’t leave his mind; the man’s desperate scrabbling, the water rising, the terrible stillness at the end.
When they reached Njord’s chambers, the sea god gestured toward the comfortable chairs by the fireplace, where an inviting evening meal had been set up on the narrow tables.
“Sit.”
