“How did thenøkkenget inside?” he asked to cover up his indecisiveness.
“That’s what we’re trying to determine, thrall,” one of Njord’s warriors said. A weathered mountain giant with a steel-gray beard and equally gray eyes.
Thori ignored him, looking at Njord instead.
“Allow me, master?”
He gestured toward the floor next to Njord’s chair, offering to take the position at his feet like a good little thrall. It wouldn’t be comfortable to kneel on the cold stone floor, but attending the war council would be worth it.
Njord’s eyes widened.
“No,” he said. He pushed his chair back from the table, making room for Thori, and patted his thigh. “Here. But keep silent unless you have something useful to contribute.”
Heat rose to Thori’s cheeks, even though this was exactly what he’d wanted. No, it was even better than that. He would sit on Njord’s lap as if he were his favorite pleasure slave and give Njord exactly what he wanted.
So he strolled over to Njord as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and settled carefully on his lap. Njord’s arm slung around his waist, warm and possessive, and Thori allowed himself the comfort of leaning against his chest.
“As Eldur said, we need to figure out how thenøkkeninfiltrated the fortress,” Gylfa said. “I’ve already sent for myvalato figure out how they breached our protective runes. He’ll report back to me any moment.”
“He will.”
The double doors leading to the corridor swung open, and Skalmöld swept in, a tied-up middle-aged man thrown over her shoulder. Andora followed at her heels, clad in the clothes of a young warrior and a short sword girded around her hip. She looked formidable, Thori noted with pleasure.
Andora took in the assembled council, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, and her gaze zeroed in on Thori. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Thori could relate; he must look quite salacious, sparsely dressed as he was, collared and pressed close to Njord.
The room fell silent.
“Hrothgar!” Gylfa’s eyes met Thori’s, and the color drained from her face. “He’s myvala,” she said, the explanation clearly for Thori’s benefit.
Skalmöld threw the man roughly onto the table, scattering a few maps in the process.
“What is this, Skalmöld?” Njord asked.
Thori could feel his chest moving against his back, not at all unpleasant.
“I felt your protective runes giving out, and Andora and I went to investigate.”
“We found this man in a cave, singing a strange spell to the sea, my lord,” Andora said.
“I guess the creatures he summoned visited you,” Skalmöld added, as smug as usual. “Nøkkenmaybe?”
Thori shuddered. This betrayal ran deep, and it was targeting Njord. Also, an attack in the middle of the night, impossibly breaching the dwelling of a god. Were the same dark forces at work here that had taken his parents?
“How could you betray your home like this?” Gylfa asked, her voice breaking.
The capturedvalastruggled in his bonds, but Skalmöld stopped him with a wave of her hand and a hissed spell when he tried to break free.
“My home?” Hrothgar spat, spit flying from his parched lips and landing on the mountain giant’s arm, who wiped it away with an expression of disgust. “This place is a disgrace. TheVanirclaim to be old, but they’ve forsaken the old ways.”
“What do you mean by ‘old ways’, Hrothgar?” Njord asked coolly.
“Don’t you remember when sacrifices were let into the bog in your name?”
“These were the ways of those who came before us,” Njord said. “It’s not the way of theVanir. Wasn’t the drowning of the criminal who called himself Egil to your taste? My sea doesn’t thirst for further sacrifice. It’s dangerous enough as it is.”
Throwing his head back, Hrothgar laughed, and Thori got a glimpse of a pendant hidden underneath his robes.
His blood ran cold.
