“Additionally, we are quite busy with the preparations, as you might imagine.” Geirrod reached again into the basket and produced a sizable mortar and pestle made from the same stone as the floors and walls. He set this on the floor beside the apples and water. “I trust that when you see the great banquet we are making ready, you will understand and even approve.”

  Maggie eyed him cautiously. Even on his knees, he was at eye-level with her. “What banquet?”

  A proud smile spread across Geirrod’s clumsy features. “Why, the wedding feast, of course!”

  Maggie felt a cold knot in her stomach and heard Iduna sink into her chair with a deflated sigh.

  “Whose wedding feast?” Maggie asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Geirrod’s cheeks pinked with excitement. “The wedding of your kinswoman Freya to our own King Thrym! Then our two clans shall finally be joined as one.” He dipped his head, his grin turning shy. “With more weddings between our peoples to come. As the season progresses, of course.”

  “Of course,” Iduna spat with a defeated wave of her hand.

  “Is there anything else you require, Lady Maggie?” Geirrod asked hopefully. “Any other service I might render?”

  Maggie looked away. “No. You may leave us now.”

  Geirrod bowed his head and got up to leave. He paused at the end of Loki’s bed and looked down on the sleeping god. The giant’s face brightened. “You are working your healing magick, yes?”

  Maggie wiped her tired eyes before looking up at him.

  “With the apples. You are working to restore him.” Geirrod gestured toward Loki. “I see some color returning to his cheeks.” Geirrod held a hand to his chest and bowed to her. “We had no doubt in your abilities. I will leave you now to continue your work.”

  Maggie watched his departure, then knelt on the floor next to the mortar and tossed a handful of apples into it. She splashed some water into the bowl and sat cross-legged on the cold floor. She groaned with the effort of pulling the heavy bowl into her lap, but she figured she didn’t have a moment to lose. She started grinding the apples.

  “Okay, Loki,” Maggie called to him as she worked. “Let’s see if we can get some more of this into you.”

  She added more apples to the bowl. Across the floor, she could hear Iduna quietly weeping.

  11

  “I don’t like it.” Heimdall tried to get up from the living room chair where Freya knelt beside him and tended his forehead. The swelling had largely subsided, leaving him with a purplish-red bruise to rival Mikhail Gorbachev’s birthmark.

  Freya grabbed Heimdall’s arm and pulled him down into the upholstered chair.

  “You don’t like it?” She brushed the thick hair out of his eyes and held a cool compress against his brow. “How do you think I feel? Your dear brother here has promised me in marriage to a freaking Frost Giant. This very night, no less.”

  Thor stood with his back to the rented house’s picture window and its perfect view of Higravstinden. Heimdall felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, and Thor adopted an artificially placating tone. “We didn’t find anything on the mountain, except for getting a bunch of rocks hurled at our heads.”

  “Your head,” Freyr corrected as he leaned against the wall.

  Thor shot his Vanir cousin a sharp look. “What I mean to say is, we could be seriously outnumbered. When we caught Thiassen following us through town on our way back from the mountain . . . This was the best arrangement I could work out on the spur of the moment.”

  Freyr sat next to Saga on the sofa and gestured toward the god of thunder. “Because Thor improvising always turns out so well.”

  Saga giggled.

  Thor tried to catch his eye. “Freyr . . .”

  The nature god turned away. “You promised my sister to a Frost Giant, buck-o.”

  “The king of the Frost Giants, actually,” Thor corrected, then seemed to realize he wasn’t making the situation any better.

  Freya pressed the compress to Heimdall’s head a little too forcefully and scowled at Thor. “And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, taken the Frost Giant hostage or something? That way we’d at least have a bargaining chip of our own.”

  Heimdall reached for Freya’s wrist to halt her ministrations. “The giants might have retaliated by harming Maggie or Iduna. You know Thor couldn’t take that risk.”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Freya bowed her head, and Heimdall could hear the tears in her voice. “I guess I’ll marry Thrym, if that’s what will get Maggie back.”

  “There’s no way I’m letting that happen.” Heimdall couldn’t remember seeing Freya so unglued. “I’ll find a way to get you out of it.”

  Thor stomped his foot and the furniture rattled on the hardwood floor. “Well, of course it’s not going to happen!” He sighed loudly and rested his fists on his hips. “What kind of an idiot do you think I am?”

  Everyone in the room paused and looked at him. Saga opened her mouth to reply, but Thor held up a hand. “Okay, don’t answer that.”

  “What’s going on?” Sally emerged from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Her hair stuck out at odd angles and the hem of her PSU Vikings sweatshirt was singed. “Did I just feel an earthquake?”

  Freya gestured toward Thor standing on the other side of the room.

  “Oh.” Sally took a few more steps into the room and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Freyr.

  Saga gave the Rune Witch a once-over. “What happened to you?”

  “The runes,” Sally sighed. “They’re just not cooperating right now.”

  “Not cooperating?” Freya asked, but Sally just shrugged in reply.

  Thor turned toward the window. He rested one hand on the heavy drapes and looked across the water at the mountain.

  “We needed some way of getting ourselves inside that stronghold.” Thor gestured toward Higravstinden. “And, we needed a way to secure ourselves at least some portion of the apples.”

  Freya turned back to Heimdall. She dipped the compress into a metal bowl of mixed herbs and purified water, then squeezed it out and held it again to her cousin’s head.

  Thor took a few steps toward her. “You’re the best bargaining chip we have. Thrym wanted you all those centuries ago, and it seems he still wants you now. This is a good thing.”

  Freya faced him and lifted her eyebrows.

  “It’s a good thing for our strategy.” Thor raised his hands in a futile gesture. “We need this.”

  Freya shrugged and went back to tending to Heimdall.

  “Except we don’t actually really need you,” Thor offered. “You’re not going anywhere near that place.”

  Freya cocked her head and looked up at him. “You don’t think Thrym will notice if his bride doesn’t show up for the wedding? The Frost Giants may be out of touch after spending thousands of years under ice, but they’re neither dimwitted nor oblivious.”

  “Oh, the bride will be there, don’t worry.” A wry smile spread across Thor’s broad face.

  Heimdall sighed and pushed Freya gently away. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to approve of this?”

  Sally and Freyr glanced at each other, and Sally tried not to laugh. Covering with a cough, she looked away, blushing.

  “They’ll only allow the bride and her brother to enter their stronghold for the ceremony, right?” Thor gestured toward Freyr on the sofa. “After that, we’d be kin, preventing us from taking any retaliatory action against them.”

  Heimdall’s jaw tightened. “Even after they kidnapped Maggie, and Iduna, and apparently have Loki as well? Even after they stole all of the apples out of the grove and forced us to our knees?”

  “Well, yeah.” Thor shrugged.

  “I’m afraid it’s the way of it.” Freya sat down on the sofa, placing herself between Sally and Freyr. “You remember the periods of uneasy peace, when there were marriages and other partnerships and unions, no matter how impermanent, between the giants and the gods.”

  “I remember.” Heimdall rested back into the upholstered cushions. “But I’m not wild about this plan.”

  “You haven’t heard it yet. So, anyway,” Thor continued, his tone upbeat and excited, “Freyr and I will show up for the wedding, right on time.”

  Freya frowned, then her eyes widened. “Oh, no. You are not going in there disguised as me!” She climbed to her feet and stomped across the floor toward him. “You don’t look anything like me. There’s no makeover reality show on the planet that could change that.”

  Thor smiled. “That’s what bridal veils are for, darling.”

  Her mouth hardening, Freya crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s been a few thousand years since Thrym last saw me, but I don’t think he’s forgotten what a woman looks like.” She looked Thor up and down with a cold eye. “And, I mean, really, how fat do you expect him to believe I’ve gotten?”

  Thor’s face darkened. “I am NOT fat.”

  Freya laughed. Tossing her long hair over her shoulder, she rested a hand on Thor’s protruding belly. “Whatever you want to call it. But I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I’m not some helpless damsel in distress.”

  “She’s got a point,” Sally offered. “Have you seen her at the dojo? She’s bad-ass.”

  Heimdall couldn’t help his chuckle. Sally had been begging for lessons at the dojo, but Freya kept turning her away. The Rune Witch needed to focus on developing her natural talents for magick, though he’d heard Freya offer a hinted promise of possible martial arts training at an undefined point in the future.

  Sally was a clever and capable witch, when she could concentrate and keep her emotions in check. And as helpless as she said she’d felt during the Battle of the White Oak as untrained and un-tested warriors engaged in hand-to-hand combat all around her, Heimdall had seen the teenager blast a hole straight through Managarm and command an entire Berserker army to stand down. He hoped the day that she finally accepted who and what she was, and the responsibilities that came with that, would dawn soon.

  “Even before the dojo, I was a formidable opponent,” Freya said. “And now, I’ve got karate, ju-jitsu, tae kwon do, judo, kendo, aikido, bokator, baranta, hanmudo, kung fu.” She poked Thor in the belly as she named each discipline. “Capoeira, muay thai, savate, wing shun, sikaran . . .”

  Sally raised her hand.

  “No, Sally,” Freya said. “I will not have you distracting yourself from your studies with krav maga here in the living room. Let your confidence come from your true power.” Freya glared up at Thor. “You think I’m no match for a crusty old Frost Giant?”

  “I like your spirit, cousin.” Thor clapped a strong hand on her shoulder and looked impressed when she didn’t flinch under the pressure. “I would never think to question your skill or ability. You and your brother have proven your mettle. But from a strategic standpoint, I cannot send you into the giants’ lair.”

  “It’s the same problem as having you head up the mountain earlier,” Heimdall offered. “If it’s our women they want . . .”

  “But I could do a working,” Sally interjected. “An invisibility spell that would allow more of you to enter at once.”

  “No.” Heimdall cut her off with a stern look. The last thing he needed was for Sally to go rushing into the Frost Giant fortress and get herself captured, too. He’d be in for a severe lecture from his mother for allowing the Rune Witch to fall into enemy hands, but he’d also grown fond of the girl. Despite her outbursts, she’d grown up a lot these last months and was no longer quite so whiny and in need of reassurance. He even admired the headstrong young woman that was emerging, when she didn’t get in his way.

  “We can’t deliver any females—butt-kicking warriors or not—into their hands.” Freya nodded, clearly disappointed. She glanced at Sally and Saga on the sofa. “So much for women’s lib.”

  Thor let go of her shoulder. “We’re dealing with ancient mindsets here.”

  “If you’re supposed to be me . . .” Freya held her chin in her hand as she studied her Thor’s body shape. “You’ll have to pass as the shy bride for only a few minutes, right? Still. We have to disguise your obvious, well, stocky maleness. Somehow.”

  Despite the inappropriate timing, Thor couldn’t help but blush at Freya’s appraisal.

  Freya looked at Heimdall. “I’m guessing there’s no budget for professional tailoring?”

  Heimdall chuckled, but he understood the problem. They didn’t have access to unlimited finances, and time was short.

  Freya turned and considered the heavy, tapestried curtains bordering the living room’s picture window. She glanced over her shoulder at Saga and tilted her head toward the drapes. “What do you think?”

  Saga rose to her feet and crossed the floor to stand next to Freya. “Hardly today’s traditional white, but we can probably make it work.”

  Thor looked from Saga to Freya and back again, trying to figure out what they were scheming. Sally fidgeted on the sofa. By the color rising in the girl’s cheeks and the smile she was trying desperately to hide, Heimdall was pretty sure she had an idea what Thor was in for.

  Thor turned to the window. “I don’t get it.”

  Saga grabbed a fistful of the curtain and held the fabric close to Thor’s face. The material—mostly dull gold with intricate patterns woven in kelly green and royal plum—glinted in the sunlight. “Not exactly your color.”

  It took a long, awkward moment for Thor to realize what she was hinting at.

  “You must be joking.” He pushed the material away from his face. “This fabric is hideously busy. It would never work.”

  “O-ho!” Freyr sang out. “Look who’s a fashion designer now! When’s your guest spot on Project Runway?”

  Thor glared at his cousin, then softened into a smirk as he turned to Sally. “This is all just a little too Gone with the Wind, isn’t it?”

  Freyr rolled his eyes. “First, the fashion advice, and then the chick flicks?” Freyr glanced at Heimdall. “No wonder he’s still single. Or is he?”

  Thor cast an uneasy glance at Saga.

  “I made him watch it,” Sally said softly. “Thor was teaching me about Berserkers, and I was supposed to be learning all about their history and everything, but then the movie was on and I really like it.”

  “The kid needed a break,” Thor added. “Now can we get back to the task at hand?” He reached for the curtains and gathered the material in his hands. “Do you think there’s enough here for a proper gown?”

  He spun on his heel and pointed a warning finger in Saga’s face. She closed her mouth before she could make another snide comment about his girth.

  “I’ll need to conceal weapons beneath the dress,” he clarified.

  Saga reached up high to grab hold of the curtains and the rod. “Could someone give me a hand with this?”

  Freyr crossed the floor and stood on his tiptoes to lift the curtain rod off of the wall brackets. He offered the polished wood pole to Saga, and she started to gather up the heavy fabric.

  Then Freyr’s body stiffened and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Freyr?” Saga dropped the rod and tried to untangle herself from the yards of fabric.

  Freyr reached instinctively for the wall but found the window instead and left long, streaking fingerprints on the glass as his body slid to the floor.

  “Freyr!” Freya was immediately on her knees at her brother’s side, cradling his head in her lap.

  Heimdall tried to react, but a wave of nausea had him bending over his knees.

  “Help him,” Heimdall grunted.

  “What’s happening?!” Sally practically shrieked. She leapt to her feet and hovered over the twins. “What’s wrong with him? What can I do?”

  “Just give him some room,” Freya squeaked in a voice that didn’t even sound like hers. She slapped Freyr’s face lightly, trying to bring him back into focus.

  Freyr’s eyelids flustered and he grabbed at Freya’s wrist to keep her from slapping him again. He blinked his eyes open. “I’m okay. Really.”

  “You most certainly are not.” Freya glanced up and looked around to find Saga. “Is this what happened to Odin? Isn’t this what Frigga described?”

  “It’s been happening to all of us, to one degree or another.” Saga gestured toward Heimdall. “You can’t blame all of Heimdall’s dizziness on his concussion.”

  “No, wait—” Heimdall started to get up in protest, but the pain in his head drove him back into his seat. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “It seems I’m in no position to disagree.”

  “Not me,” Thor proclaimed loudly from the center of the room. He rested his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest.

  Heimdall squinted up at him. “Seriously?”

  Thor glanced around at his kin regarding him with raised eyebrows. “So I’m more level-headed than usual. So what?”

  Freya looked down at her brother. “How long has this been going on?”

  Freyr pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I didn’t pay attention at first. But it hit me this afternoon, on the mountain.”

  Saga took a step toward Heimdall. “And you?”

  He shook his head as slowly as he could, trying to stave off another burst of blinding pain. “Must have hit me about the same time the Frost Giant did.”

  “Wish I could’ve seen that, brother.” Thor chuckled, and Heimdall gritted his teeth through the pain to glare at him.

  “And I’ve been forgetting things,” Saga said.

  “And I’m reactive and distracted.” Freya touched her brother’s face and then wiped tears out of her eyes.

  Freyr rose awkwardly to his feet. “So, then. Let’s get moving. No time to waste.”

  Saga started pulling the fabric off the curtain rod. “Freyr, I know you’re feeling woozy, but can you hunt through this place for a sewing machine of some kind.” She glanced at Sally, standing in the middle of the room with nothing to do. Saga smirked. “Or you can run into town to fetch sewing notions with Sally.”