It’s okay, Lucy. You did the right thing, Jamie told me, catching my eye to give the terrified voices in my head reason to flee. She almost killed Foss.
I nodded, gulping as I tried to fade into the background. Foss pulled out my stool for me and lowered me down. I didn’t notice I was trembling until he held tight to my hand and rubbed my back, leaning my head to his thigh. He stood around with the chief, Tomas of the Hills and Jamie, discussing the penalties for such things while I tried not to fall to pieces.
The chief noticed Foss’s fingers winding themselves through my hair. The powerful man sat down on my other side, motioning for Foss and the others to take their seats.
I guessed the fiddlers were doing their best to lighten the moods, because everyone was remarkably upbeat, despite the horror that had just occurred.
“I guess I don’t have to worry about your new wife being able to run your household,” the chief commented, downing a shot of Gar and slamming the glass on the table. “I admit, I was concerned she would not be a good right hand, but after seeing the way she ran to you when she saw you were in danger, I guess I can stop worrying you’ve been bewitched. Were it not our people putting the sirens out, I would’ve thought you one of them, Guldy.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I simply nodded and kept my head down.
The chief took another shot of Gar. His reaction to the taste was that of drinking because it was there and not because it tasted particularly delicious. “Foss has never taken a wife. I recall you mentioning something about women making men weak.”
“This one always keeps me guessing,” Foss replied, raising his hand in acknowledgement to a servant who toasted him. Foss leaned back in his chair and pulled me closer to him, as if we kicked back and watched TV together while we snuggled all the time.
Just then, a young girl came to the table and kissed the chief’s cheek. “Papa, you said you’d introduce me to the Guldy,” she complained.
“I did,” he grinned. “I was just waiting to see what she was made of first. Guldy, this is my daughter, Aren.”
I managed a weak smile, and wondered how the poor preteen was handling the scene I could barely stomach.
“You have lovely hair,” she commented, eyes wide. “Master Foss must brush it all day long.”
That’d be the day.
I’m not sure why I did it. Perhaps I was a little tired of people reducing my value to a flip of the genetic pool. I combed my fingers through my locks and yanked out a few strands. I twisted them up and placed them in her hand.
Boy, was that worth the reaction. Aren let her gasp fly out in audible astonishment, marveling at the strands that I always got irritated with for clogging up my bathroom drain.
“Papa, look! So pale. So pretty.” She looked up at me with rock star worship in her eyes and squealed. “Thank you, Guldy! Thank you, Master Foss!” She bowed to Foss, who acknowledged her curtsy with a polite bob of his head as he waved her away. She ran to her gaggle of friends and showed them the treasure.
Foss whispered in my ear, “Thank you.” Then he brushed his lips to mine again. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if we were a married couple who did things like that all the time.
He did it because the chief was watching. That had to be the reason. The reason for the involuntary swoon on my behalf? No idea.
Brenda brought out more Gar, and more, adding to the liveliness of the night. Jamie drank steadily through the meal, asking for more Gar as soon as he emptied his cup. Even now that dinner was over, he continued his debasement. A few of the women started dancing on the lower tables, much to the enjoyment of the men. My eyelids drooped as I rested against Foss. His heavy arm wrapped around my shoulders and palmed my stomach as I laid back against his chest. His body was hard and strong. It held none of the warmth Jens’s body did, but in this grim place, it provided a small amount of comfort. His thumb dragged up and down across my navel as he conversed with the chief.
The chief was cool once you got past the terrifying Viking-esque aspect of him. He and Foss shot the breeze while I sat in between them like a little mute doll whose hair Foss loved to stroke. The chief watched us with contentment plain on his face. “It does me good to see you like this,” he said to Foss. “I confess, I never thought the day would come I’d get to give you your wedding present.”
Foss raised an eyebrow, but maintained his laid back position on the chair. “A wedding present? Surely a good bride is gift enough, Dom.”
Barf. The words were so insincere.
The chief traced the lip of his shot glass as he spoke. “What would you say to taking the Tillbaka district off my hands?”
Foss’s hand in my hair stilled. His words came out of him slowly, as if pulled by a cautious string. “Off your hands? Tillbaka? Are you certain?”
The chief nodded, still focused on the shot glass. “I am. You’ve more than earned it. It’s high time your territory expanded.”
Kirstie brought a round of shots to the table, shooting me a murderous glare. I made for double sure not to touch my glass. Not that I would’ve anyway. I mean, it’s straight vinegar. Gag.
Foss was flabbergasted. “Thank you! Yes, I can handle the extra responsibility. You won’t be sorry to’ve put your faith in me.”
“Oh, faith in you’s an easy bet,” the chief complimented Foss kindly. “You’ve always been like a… Well, anyways, congratulations on your new bride. When she gives you an heir, you’ll take over the Sötlands for me.” He toasted me, cracking a smile at my wide eyes. “And you, Guldy, you can ask me for whatever you wish. One favor from the chief, so think on it wisely.”
I touched my heart to let him know his gift was appreciated. I tried to push out thoughts of pink ponies and a white picket fence. Now was the time for strategy.
“That’s… I don’t know what to say.” Foss ran his hand over his face. “Thank you.”
I pressed my gold sandal down atop his foot under the table before he promised the chief something he couldn’t deliver.
“A son,” he crooned softly. Foss palmed my stomach again, tracing my navel and just begging for a punch in the face. It started out as a game of chicken, but now it was shifting to something unspeakably dangerous.
“You’ve proved yourself worthy.” The chief didn’t drink his shot, but kept touching the glass as if he meant to.
I leaned up and spoke softly, just loud enough for the chief to overhear through the lively fiddle music. “Darling husband, surely you have a better bottle of Gar for the chief. You don’t want him drinking the stuff the servants drink.”
Foss narrowed one eye at me, but conceded. “Why um, yes. I think I do have a few bottles I was saving for a special occasion.” He motioned to the nearest servant to grab him what he wished.
“A good wife, indeed.” The chief was happy at being tended to as the king he was, and even happier when a bottle of hundred-year aged Gar from the Darklands was poured out for him. After three shots, I knew I could talk to him without fear of beheading.
“Are you enjoying your night?” I asked him. Both men took notice when I spoke, since it happened so infrequently.
“I am,” the chief replied. “You? How do you like Fossegrim?”
I disregarded his question and went straight for the gut. “I think I know what I want for my favor now.”
His eyebrows raised in amusement. “Shall I ready my stock of gold?”
“Wait, what are the rules?” I asked the two men warily. “Like, what am I allowed to ask for?”
“Anything,” they replied in unison. Foss’s hand stilled on my stomach, and I could feel his nerves building.
“I won’t get in trouble? I want your word as one of the four great powers I won’t get in trouble if I ask you for something big.”
The chief was serious now, and I could tell his alert was going up. “On my honor. Whatever you wish. Though I would caution you to think on this. Ask wisely. It’s one favor for your lifetime, so I owe you nothing after this.”
“You owe me nothing now,” I corrected him. “A favor is a gift. I just don’t want you to chop off my head and string up my body if I ask you for something you don’t want to give me.”
The chief nodded, his jaw tense. “Then ask wisely.”
“Will you walk with me?” I asked, noting the number of people dancing around the fire who could easily eavesdrop if they meandered close enough.
“Foss, your wife’s beauty is beginning to fade,” the chief warned, standing and offering his arm to me.
My hand shook as I took his arm, letting him lead me off the raised platform for the super cool people and down toward the vineyard.
“I confess, I can’t imagine what this favor might cost me,” he said as we walked. We were on a slow pace through two rows of orange trees, just far enough away to keep our conversation private, but not too far to divorce him from the enchanted fiddle music that only played in my favor.
I stopped, and making sure we were alone, I grabbed an orange off the tree and sat down on the ground, motioning for him to do the same in the space opposite me. “Take a seat. I gotta think for a second.” The chief looked around, hoping for invisibility so no one would see him sitting on the grass like a commoner. I rolled the orange toward him, and then held my hands out so he knew to roll it back.
“Guldy, you can ask whatever you wish,” he reminded me, confused as to why we were sitting on the grass in the orchard, rolling an orange back and forth like children. He had to have been at least mid-forties.
“My name’s Lucy. I’m not from around here. I’m not from Undraland. I’m actually from the Other Side.”
He held the orange for a moment, considering my appearance. “That explains a lot. Go on.”
“Don’t throw the orange at me. Be cool until I finish, or you’ll lose your temper, and I don’t want that.”
He squinted at me, admiring my gall. “I can be patient.”
I gulped. “Have you heard of Hilda the Powerful?” I watched the chief nod. “Well, I’m her daughter.” Then I held up my hands before he could freak out. “But I’m not a practicing Huldra. I don’t have any magic in me at all. I’m totally human, nothing more.”
“I saw no tail on you,” he confirmed through tight lips. He gripped the orange with his glitter-spattered fingers, but then relaxed with a wave of his hand. “Go on.”
“Now, be cool,” I cautioned him, treading lightly. “My mother stole Pesta’s rake long before I was born. Pesta’s been tracking my family and trying to take us out ever since. She killed my parents, but didn’t get the rake.” I could feel nerves churning in the form of vomit in my gut. It was a reckless game I was playing, but I didn’t see another way. “I got the rake, and now Pesta’s Mouthpiece is after me.”
He snarled, his thick lips showing his disgust. “Pesta. Why we weren’t allowed to kill her is beyond me. And then they give her a Mouthpiece?”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I won’t ask you for protection. Foss and my uncle can handle that. Do you know Alrik? Well, he’s got the rake.”
“Then he needs protection,” the chief ruled. “You needn’t worry about the Mouthpiece on the Isle of Fossegrim. Our ports are closed to him. Using a Grimen as her vessel was a marked mistake. There’s no forgiveness for that.”
I caught the orange and tossed it back. “Thanks for that, but that’s not my wish.” I took a breath. “Foss doesn’t know I’m asking you for this, so don’t be pissed at him.”
“Pissed? I’m sure I won’t be mad at Foss. Marrying the heir of Hilda the Powerful? Risky, but so far it seems like he made a wise decision. I’ve learned not to question Foss. He always delivers.”
“Thanks.” I caught the ball and weighed it in my hands. “I don’t want money. I don’t want protection.” I took a deep breath. “I want the Fossegrimen portal to the Land of Be torn down. Foss can do it using my rake, but I want your word you’ll help him and that there won’t be any retaliation.”
There was a bug that wafted between us. Sort of a firefly mixed with a butterfly. Gorgeous enough to arrest my attention in the midst of the tense moment. “That’s an eld fjräril. Lights up when a fire’s near.”
I watched the bug respond to the nearby bonfire. “You’re probably wishing you got me a toaster or something instead of an open-ended wish for a wedding gift.”
“I’m a man of my word, Guldy. I’ve been looking for a way to get rid of Pesta since the beginning. If you have the rake, I can grant you your wish.”
“My very own Santa Claus,” I marveled. “Thanks, Chief.”
“Olaf won’t be happy.”
My expression of accomplishment fell into disrepair. “Olaf put his hands on me, so I don’t much care what makes him happy. If tearing down the portal ruins his life, so much the better.”
The chief raised his eyebrow at my accusation. “He had his way with a wife of one of the four powers? And yet he breathes. How has Foss not retaliated?”
“Foss doesn’t know. I’ve seen enough violence. I don’t want Foss to fight anymore. Plus, it happened a day or two before we got married, so I’m not sure it would matter to him.”
The chief grumbled under his breath. “Well, as you wish it, it shall be done. Let me know when Alrik comes with your rake, and I’ll escort Foss personally to the portal. He has my full support. Pesta’s seen her last soul from us.”
I tossed him the orange. “You’re cooler than I expected. Some of the other rulers? Not so much. Thanks.” I stood and offered my hand to the chief. “Let’s get back before you miss out on the good Gar.” He stood and tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow. We walked almost like old friends back to Foss, who was vacillating between angry and afraid.
I kissed Foss’s forehead, reminding him to calm down. “The chief’s going to help you tear down the portal,” I told him in a quiet voice. “No big deal, so you can relax now.”
Foss’s hackles rose. “What?”
The chief explained our conversation quietly to Foss and Tomas of the Hills, and after the litany of questions from both of them, a grave but hopeful understanding was reached. The men drank like friends and chatted about territories and animal predators sneaking food off the land, all the while thinking about the change of fate their land would undergo in the near future.