Thor hesitated. Freyr stepped forward and accepted the apples.

  “My sister is a bit shy,” Freyr explained. “Nervous about the wedding.”

  Thiassen smiled and bobbed his head.

  “She appreciates your hospitality, but would prefer not to reveal her face.” Freyr frowned at his own pitiful lie.

  Thiassen took a few steps back. “Of course. It is natural that a bride would not want to lift her veil for any but her new husband. Please, take your time.” He turned away.

  Freyr rolled his eyes and handed the apple to Thor. They bit into the sacred fruit, consuming the apples whole.

  “I hadn’t known how weak I was,” Freyr whispered. “I can feel a trickle of strength returning already.”

  Thor mopped juice off his beard with the inside of the veil. The fabric felt itchier than ever against his skin. He made a conscious effort to unclench his fists, then he smiled. He was growing more irritated. That was a good sign.

  “My sister and I thank you for your patience and understanding,” Freyr called out to Thiassen.

  Thiassen turned around and took a few paces toward them. He paused to admire the bride.

  “My lady,” the giant bowed. “May I say what a true pleasure it is to be in your gracious presence? These past millennia have been very kind to you indeed.”

  Thor gritted his teeth, though he heard Freyr choke back a snort. He wondered if the Vanir sprite would be laughing if he was the one in the wedding dress.

  “Will you accompany me inside?” Thiassen gestured toward a shadowy path on the far side of the circle of torches, then disappeared into the dark, recessed area that lay beyond.

  Freyr followed, urging Thor along as they stepped into the shadows.

  “I can’t see a bloody thing beneath this stupid veil.” Thor kicked at the hem of his gown as his boots threatened to get tangled again in his train. “No wonder brides need their fathers to walk them down the aisle. They’d never find their way to the altar otherwise.”

  “Shh.” Freyr smiled and patted Thor’s hand as Thiassen glanced at them over his shoulder. “There, there,” Freyr murmured for effect.

  The giant turned back around, and Freyr and Thor froze.

  “Did you hear . . . ?” Freyr whispered.

  Thor turned his face upward as a trace of high-pitched cackling echoed down from the mountain’s peak.

  Thor shivered, his hulking form shaking the folds of his heavy gown and the weaponry stored beneath. “That doesn’t sound like any Frost Giant I ever heard.”

  “Maybe all that time in the ice . . . did something to them?” Freyr asked.

  Up ahead, Thiassen pushed open a heavy stone door that led directly into the mountain and motioned for them to approach.

  “This is your fortress?” Freyr called to Thiassen.

  The giant paused before answering. “Now that we are to be family . . . Yes, this is one entry to our mountain stronghold. I can give you a more comprehensive tour after the ceremony, if you would like?”

  Freyr offered a thin smile.

  “Built inside the bloody mountain.” Thor cursed under his breath. He paused at the entryway to study its construction. “I’m amazed Maggie got a call out.”

  “A full tour of this place? Knowing where all the entrances are? All the vulnerabilities?” Freyr whispered back. “That might be worth marrying a Frost Giant for.”

  They followed Thiassen down a dim corridor lit by angled mirrors reflecting sunlight around every bend.

  “This is quite a set-up. Nice use of sunlight,” Freyr said in open appreciation. He ran his fingers along the polished stone walls. “This isn’t something they did overnight.”

  “I don’t imagine it’s too comfortable in winter,” said Thor. “But if they put as much thought into airflow as they did with the lighting—”

  “How long has this place been in existence?” Freyr called to Thiassen.

  The giant stopped and turned toward him. “Our king built it for your sister here, before the war.” He nodded politely toward the bride. “It was to be a bridal gift, at their wedding.” He bowed again before continuing down the corridor.

  “I wonder what the square footage is,” Freyr mused aloud. “Colors are kind of dull, though.”

  Thor gripped Freyr’s arm. “If you’re quite finished playing Martha Stewart, I’d like to focus on surveilling the property for strategic weaknesses.”

  The passageway opened into a small chamber with a large skylight cut into the ceiling. Freyr glanced at the evening sun overhead.

  “It’s like a maze in here,” Freyr called again to Thiassen.

  The giant shrugged but kept moving forward. He led them down another corridor branching off from the close room. “You are not the first to say so. Goddess Maggie has made similar comments.”

  Thor nearly tripped. Goddess Maggie?

  “She’s here,” Freyr breathed.

  Thor squeezed Freyr’s arm and reminded him to keep playing his part.

  Freyr cleared his throat. “Yes, we have been wanting to inquire after our kinswoman. Is she well?”

  Thiassen turned a corner and waited for them to follow. “Quite well. She will be one of the honored guests at the ceremony this evening.”

  The corridor ended and they stepped into a large hall illuminated by sunlight pouring in through narrow windows cut into the high ceiling. A circle of thick candles burned on tall pillars at one end of the room.

  Thor elbowed Freyr in the ribs and nodded toward the other end of the chamber. A large table was piled high with meats, vegetables, tankards of ale—and mounds of Iduna’s apples, easily enough to fill their clan’s share of the harvest.

  Thiassen stopped in the middle of the room. Watching Freyr and the bride as they entered the hall, he followed their eyes to the feast table and smiled.

  “All has been arranged for a truly joyous celebration of the joining of our two clans.” Towering over his guests, Thiassen clasped his large hands together and cast a long shadow across the polished stone floor. “This day has been too long in coming. If only a similar arrangement had been agreed to prior to that fateful day, so many centuries ago, we could have joined forces against the Æsir.”

  “Enough!”

  Thrym, King of the Frost Giants, appeared in one of the doorways leading away from the candle-lit circle. Dressed in what would have passed for baroque finery in the Middle Ages, Thrym threw his shoulders back, puffed out his chest and strode into the room with an air of undeniable authority.

  Thor stiffened, trying not to choke at the sight of Thrym—taller than any NBA player—in a bolero-style, gold-embroidered jacket and ballooning breeches that gathered below the knees.

  Freyr elbowed the husky bride. “Now there’s somebody who needs Project Runway. Or maybe What Not to Wear.”

  Thor bit his tongue beneath this veil and tried hard not to laugh.

  Thiassen nodded to his king in apology and backed out of the way.

  Thrym approached his bride, looking her up and down with an approving eye. He threw an obligatory glance Freyr’s way, then stopped and bowed deeply. Unable to see past the lace veil, Thrym laughed and raised himself up to standing—more than a head taller than his bride.

  “My, my,” Thrym clucked appreciatively. “You have been keeping yourself well these past millennia. You have filled out nicely.”

  Freyr took an angry step forward and poked the giant in the belly. “How dare you address my sister with such a lecherous tone!”

  Thrym tilted his head and appeared to consider Freyr’s protest. After a long pause, he nodded. “Yes, you are quite correct.”

  Thrym knelt on the stone floor and lifted his hand to beseech his bride. “Dear lady, accept my apologies for my inappropriate remarks. I have dreamt of this moment for many cold years. My excitement and impatience have me acting the impudent fool.”

  Freyr leaned close to Thor and whispered, “I don’t remember the Frost Giants being quite so polite.”

  Thor leaned in closer. “Did you hear what Thiassen said? About teaming up with the Vanir against the Æsir?”

  “Maybe they don’t know our truce is effectively permanent,” Freyr replied.

  Thor glanced at Freyr through the thick lace, then looked down at Thrym still waiting on the floor. He extended a meaty hand—only then realizing he hadn’t taken care to hide his rough, hairy paws.

  “Such strength in these lovely fingers!” Thrym laughed and clasped his bride’s thick hand, then leaned forward and lightly kissed Thor’s calloused knuckles. Thor clenched his stomach to stave off a disgusted shiver.

  Gripping his bride’s hand tight, Thrym rose to his feet and patted his future wife’s fingers. “Well, then! Let us not delay.”

  He gestured toward the ring of candles where Thiassen stood waiting to perform the ceremony and led Thor across the floor.

  Freyr looked around the room and frowned. “Where are the others?”

  Thrym turned toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The others.” Freyr gestured about the empty room. “Are there to be no guests other than myself?”

  “Ah, of course, yes.” Thrym gestured to Thiassen, who ducked into a nearby corridor. He reappeared moments later, followed by Geirrod, Valthrudnir, Maggie, and Iduna.

  Freyr’s face melted at the sight of Maggie, and he crossed the floor quickly toward her. “Maggie! Are you all right?” He took her hands into his and studied her face for signs of abuse or trauma.

  Maggie nearly laughed with surprise. “Am I glad to see you!” She glanced past Freyr and frowned. “Where’s everyone else? Where’s Heimdall?”

  Thor broke away from Thrym and left the would-be groom standing amongst the candles. He stepped toward Maggie and Iduna. He still needed to let Freyr do the talking, so as not to blow his own cover, but he wanted to see the hostages and gauge their wellbeing for himself.

  “It’s just the two of us, for now.” Freyr nodded toward the bridal Thor. “I can’t really explain it all just this second.”

  “I’m also well, by the way,” Iduna cut in with a scowl. “In case you were wondering.”

  Freyr turned to her with an embarrassed nod. “Iduna, of course.” He let go of Maggie’s hands and stood in front of the Goddess of the Grove. “We were devastated by your capture.”

  “I’ll bet,” she replied.

  Thor bit back a reactive groan.

  “Iduna, this is no time . . .” Freyr shut his mouth when Geirrod stepped up beside Maggie with a protective air. Thor stood tall and bristled at the giant’s nearness to Heimdall’s girlfriend and the presumption of familiarity between them. Had Maggie been turned so easily?

  “Lady Maggie,” Geirrod leaned down and cooed to her. “We are to witness a great event this evening.” He gestured toward the bride. “The marriage of your kinswoman Freya to our king will bind us as one at last.”

  Maggie squinted at Thor and frowned. “That’s not Freya.”

  Freyr laughed with exaggerated volume, but Geirrod looked at the bride with suspicion.

  “You’ve simply never seen Freya in a proper bridal gown before,” Freyr announced loudly, then leaned close to Maggie. “Just sit tight. Things are going to get really weird for a few minutes.”

  Maggie sighed. “I doubt it could get any weirder than the past few days.”

  Iduna gripped Maggie’s arm and pulled her aside. “Welcome to the pantheon.”

  Freyr walked Thor back across the floor to deliver the bride to Thrym with a stern tone. “I’ll ask again what is keeping the other guests? Would you dishonor my sister—your bride—by not conducting a fitting ceremony in the presence of your full complement?”

  Thrym blinked. “I assure you, my almost-brother, every surviving member of my clan is present.”

  Thor inhaled sharply, and he nudged Freyr.

  Freyr rested his hands on his hips. “What do you mean, every surviving member?”

  “We four.” Thiassen stepped forward. “We are the only Frost Giants to come out of the ice.”

  Freyr stomped his foot on the stone floor. “This is a ruse! What cruel trick is this?” He grabbed Thor’s arm and played at pulling the bride away from her suitor. “You will not spout such lies to your intended kin on my sister’s wedding day.”

  Freyr tried to storm toward the doorway, but Thor didn’t understand at first that he was supposed to allow himself to be dragged along like a distraught maiden. Freyr gave him a hard look through the thick lace and tugged on his arm.

  Thor attempted what he thought sounded like a feminine sob and followed Freyr across the floor.

  “Wait!” Thrym hurried after them. “It is no lie. Please, do not go. Allow me to explain.”

  Freyr glanced sideways at Thor, then turned around with dark indignation. “For all we know, you have lured us here for a fake ceremony while your army attacks our kin.”

  “No.” Thrym lifted his hands as his shoulders drooped. “What Thiassen says is true.” He gestured toward his fellow giants. “We are the only survivors of our icy prison.”

  Thor tensed, ready to charge at Thrym. Freyr grabbed him by the wrist and squeezed, asking him to wait.

  “Odin sent nearly one hundred Frost Giants into the ice,” Freyr spat. “You expect us to believe only four of you remain?”

  “They died down there, Freyr.” Maggie stepped away from the wall. “Trapped in the glacier for thousands of years, without the magic apples you’re all so crazy for.” She gestured toward the feast table, then glanced at the four giants around her and shivered.

  The distaste on her face was the first positive sign Thor had seen all evening.

  “Listen, I’m not friends with these guys or anything. They’ve kept me locked up in here, with her.” Maggie nodded toward Iduna. “But from what I’ve seen, it really is just these four guys.”

  Freyr turned to Thor. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s possible.”

  “We could not have come to you for help. You defeated us! You imprisoned us!” Thrym stepped toward them. “This is why we stole the apples.”

  He gestured toward Maggie and Iduna. “We need your females. We must marry and produce offspring so we do not die out. The sacred apples were our only leverage. Without them, both our peoples wither away and die.”

  Thrym reached for his bride’s hand. “Please, let us join our clans through this union, and we may feast together as one family.”

  After a loud and decidedly unfeminine sigh, Thor hurled his bouquet down on the stone floor and threw back the lace veil. “Are you kidding me?!”

  13

  Thrym’s jaw dropped. Other than a truncated gasp from Geirrod—and a choked giggle from Maggie—the room fell silent.

  Loki appeared in one of the doorways. Face drawn and pale, he wobbled on his feet as he stepped into the room. He glanced about at the giants, nodded at Maggie, then lifted his eyebrows curiously as he caught sight of Thor the bride wearing flowers on his head.

  “So, I have to ask. What precisely is going on in here?”

  “Loki!” Maggie rushed across the floor to his side. She grabbed his arm and found herself shouldering half his weight as he leaned on her for support. “You’re awake! You’re walking!”

  “And talking, it would seem,” Thor grumbled. He pointed an accusing finger at Loki. “I should have known you would be involved in something like this!”

  “Now, just hold on.” Freyr stepped forward to try to gain control of the situation, but Thor ripped away the long folds of fabric disguising the weapons hanging from his tool belt and stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Gripping a hammer in one hand and a plumber’s wrench in the other, Thor stalked toward Loki.

  “You would turn against your own kin?!” Thor ignored the Frost Giants for the moment and brandished his weapons high over Loki’s head. Ordinarily, Loki would have sought cover or at least taken several steps back. Instead, he leaned heavily on Maggie.

  Maggie’s hand shot up within inches of Thor’s face. “You need to back off.”

  She grabbed Loki’s chin and turned his face from one side to the other. “How? I mean, when?”

  Loki shrugged. “I woke up. I heard voices and followed them here.”

  Recovering from the shock of learning his blushing bride was actually Thor in a dress, Thrym stormed forward. He grabbed Thor by the elbow and spun him around.

  “What is the meaning of this?!” Thrym bellowed, his face flushing a deeper red with every syllable. “Where is Freya? Why have you so thoroughly breached our agreement?”

  Thor tried to shrug out of Thrym’s grasp, but the giant held him firmly in place.

  “You’re challenging me?” Thor shouted back. “You lured us into this dungeon under false pretenses!”

  Thiassen raised a hand. “This is actually not a dungeon.”

  Thrym nodded toward the tattered remnants of Thor’s wedding gown. “You lecture me on treachery and deceit? We promised nothing more than the apples.” He gestured toward the feast table with his free hand. “And we intended to honor our side of that bargain.”

  “Apples for brides,” Loki murmured groggily into Maggie’s shoulder.

  “Sounds like a really desperate reality TV show,” she replied.

  Thor twisted out of Thrym’s grasp and shook his weapons angrily at his sides. “There are only FOUR of you?! I thought we were storming in here for a fight, to save the world from being overrun by Frost Giants, and to rescue Maggie.”

  Thor nodded sheepishly in Maggie’s direction. “Hey, Maggie.”

  “Heya,” she replied with little enthusiasm.

  A deep pout settled over Thor’s face. “I got all dressed up for nothing.”

  Iduna stepped forward. “And you’ve never looked lovelier.”

  “Oh, so, are you okay?” he gestured toward Iduna with the wrench. “Kind of forgot about you there.”

  Iduna crossed her arms over her chest. “Most everyone does.”

  Geirrod wandered into the center of the room with a confused frown. “So, there is to be no wedding? You disguised yourself thus to gain access to our stronghold and attack us?”