twenty-one
Market Day
Njord
He woke to the whispering of the waves and the pale light of dawn filtering through the gaps in the curtains, painting silvery stripes onto the hewn floor. Thori’s head was resting on his shoulder, his breath softly tickling against Njord’s beard. His thrall was finally relaxed. Fast asleep. He fit perfectly against Njord’s side, as if he were made to curl up in his arms. For a moment, Njord allowed himself to simply savor the delicious feeling of naked, warm skin against his body, wistfully watching a ray of morning sunlight catch in Thori’s golden hair.
After the execution, Njord had known something was wrong. Thori had been shaken, but he’d covered his fear with derision. And his ostentatious bravado had fooled Njord. It was only when Thori had cried out desperately in his sleep that Njord began to understand what was going on.
The darkest hour before dawn. Thori’s raw fear. It had been only because of the strange spell of that night that Njord had promised to keep his little thunder god safe. Again. He’d meantit too, even if it went against every instinct for revenge he’d nursed for years.
You’re getting soft, he told himself, but couldn’t quite bring himself to care when Thori stirred against him, lashes fluttering open to reveal confused amber eyes.
“Morning,” Njord grumbled, not moving away despite the voice in his head warning him he was playing a dangerous game.
Thori’s cheeks flushed pink as awareness returned, and he hastily retreated to the other side of the bed. Njord let him go, though his body mourned the loss of warmth. He sat up straighter and stretched, his joints cracking. He was getting old. Old and soft. Just great.
“How did you sleep?” Njord asked, not quite able to quench his curiosity.
“Better,” Thori mumbled, as if it cost him something to admit that simple fact. “No more, you know—” He gestured vaguely between them, clearly uncomfortable talking about the nightmare that had plagued him.
“Good,” Njord said, gentler than intended. “I’ll make sure it stays that way.”
Why? Why did he keep promising such things to Thori? Why couldn’t he keep his foolish mouth shut?
Irritated by his own thoughts, Njord rose and moved to the window, looking out over his domain. With the fishing boats back with their morning catch and the merchants ready, the harbor was already busy. It was going to be a beautiful summer day, as far as Nóatún was concerned. The air was fresh and already warming in the first rays of sunshine. A good day for showing Thori more of his new home. Yes! He’d show Thori the market, make sure he’d get some of the sumptuous food on display at every corner. He didn’t have any desire to offer his enemy nice things. No, it was the rational thing to do. He wouldbe seen with Thori at the harbor, and soon everyone in the Nine Realms would know that he had made Odinsson his thrall.
“Get dressed,” Njord ordered, turning back to find Thori watching him with an unreadable expression. “I want to show you something.”
Thori’s eyes widened, and Njord remembered belatedly that he must have said something similar yesterday before dragging Thori along to the drowning.
Hel!
“The market,” he hurried to clarify. “I need to…inspect the market, and you’re supposed to come along.”
“So everyone can see me wearing your collar?” Thori snarled.
The words had excitement rushing through Njord’s veins. Something about Thori’s anger was intoxicating, making him want to—
“Exactly,” Njord said, cutting his inappropriate thoughts short. “My people will want to watch your defeat in daylight.”
Thori glared at him for another second, then he jumped up to gather the clothes he’d worn to court.
“No,” Njord said without thinking. “I’ve got something else for you to wear.”
What was he doing?
But he’d already taken this game too far to back down now. He walked over to the chest containing his clothes as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Rummaging through his ceremonial attire, he found a deep blue tunic embroidered with his coat of arms. He had worn the garment at the wedding of Ahti and Vellamo. Perfect.
“Put this on.”
Tossing the tunic at Thori, Njord searched for a matching pair of comfortable leather breeches. Thori caught those too, and Njord couldn’t help watching him wash up and change out of the corner of his eye while he got ready himself.
If he had previously thought that his colors suited Thori, the effect now was breathtaking. Thori looked radiant, and Njord couldn’t help but notice that he seemed almost like a consort if it weren’t for the collar. Utterly gorgeous.
Focus, he told himself sternly. You’re supposed to be humiliating him, not wanting him.
“Ready?”
