“My Lord Njord. What can I bring you?”
“My usual. For two, please.”
“You’re lucky. My cook just finished the preparations for the day. I’ll bring you the best catch fresh from the baking pit.”
“Thank you.”
During their brief conversation, Thori had stared at the polished wooden table, fiddling absentmindedly with the bracelet. He seemed…lost, and Njord had to fight down the urge to touch him, to comfort him somehow.
As promised, Solrun didn’t take long to bring them their meal: fresh-caught salmon glazed with honey, flatbread still warm from the fire, bowls of creamy soup rich with shellfish, and tankards filled to the brim with mead.
The smell was delicious, and Thori’s stomach grumbled again.
“Eat,” Njord said.
Still, Thori hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?”
Pushing the dishes closer to Thori, Njord made an inviting gesture.
“Eat,” he repeated, more gently this time, and he could practically see Thori’s defiance crumbling.
Delicately, he picked up a piece of salmon and brought it to his mouth. He ate slowly, making an effort to hide how hungry he really was, and probably having no idea that the way he sensually licked the honey glaze from his fingers made Njord’s stomach swoop.
To distract himself, Njord picked up his spoon and tried the soup. It was delicious, but Njord couldn’t stop watching Thori eat. It was surprisingly satisfying, and against his better judgment, he kept offering his thrall the best pieces of Solrun’s excellent food.
“Is the salmon to your taste?”
“It’s edible. You catch it at sea?”
“Yes. Or at the mouths of the rivers. It’s the best quality you can get.”
“The fishers in Asgard catch the salmon further up the streams. It’ll still be a few weeks before the salmon season starts in my homeland,” Thori said, a haughty undertone in his voice.
Why did he have to turn everything into a competition?
“And do you think that your parents have noticed your absence until then?” Njord asked.
Usually, he had no problem just ignoring a simple barb, but with Thori, every fiber of Njord’s being wanted to react, wanted to get under his skin and peel away the carefully crafted layers of the fabulous Prince of Asgard until only his true self remained.
Also, it was true, Njord justified himself. He expected an emissary from Asgard any day now to negotiate Thori’s release. Of course, Njord had no intention of giving him back, no matter what theÆsirwere willing to pay as ransom for their prince. Butit surprised him that Odin hadn’t located his son already, that he hadn’t found a way to contact him. From the god of war and wisdom, Njord would have guessed a quicker response.
“Are you hoping for ransom?” Thori snarled.
“You know I won’t give you back.”
The statement filled Njord with calm. Yes, he’d keep Thori, and not even Odin could do anything about it. Maybe this way, theÆsirwould finally learn their lesson about raiding Vanaheim.
“Then why do you care?”
“Because it strikes me as odd. Wouldn’t Odin and Frigga do everything in their power to get their firstborn back?”
Indeed, the more they talked about it, the weirder it sounded. Svanhild may have sailed fast after she captured Thori; she may have been able to disguise his whereabouts for some time. But Njord had made no such effort. Still, he’d felt neither Odin nor Frigga’s presence in his domain. Could the rumors about her absence be true?
But that would mean that Asgard was exposed. Vulnerable without their rulers. And now Thori was gone, too. TheÆsircouldn’t keep such an immense weakness a secret, could they?
“Maybe—” Thori’s breath hitched. “Maybe the Allfather doesn’t deem me important enough for saving.”
