Chapter 73
Gerrie awoke with a start, sweat trickling down her back as the flash of a serpent’s tongue lingered on the fringes of her memory.
Just a dream, she tried to reassure herself. But she couldn’t shake the warning. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of alarm wash through her, searching for any hidden meaning.
As Solveig’s shieldmaiden and sworn protector, she’d made an oath. That oath connected her to Solveig through the magic of their blood—the dream had been more than her scared imaginings.
Solveig was in trouble, and Gerrie could do nothing to help her at this moment.
It would soon be time to fulfill the final request of the queens. If Solveig was under attack, that meant they were almost to Hel and Gerrie would have to leave Vanaheim soon. She rolled over, turning away from Viggo’s vast naked body beside her.
Hearing Noren’s vigorous lovemaking had inspired her to take Viggo to bed again, and she was glad she did—she needed the distraction, and he was quite a large one.
Gerrie slinked out from under the covers, trying not to disturb the male, who was beginning to stir.
By the look of things, his dream was not nearly as horrifying as Gerrie’s, and while her pussy throbbed at the thought of getting his thick cock inside her again, she couldn’t give in. She had shit to do.
The stairs were frozen with the chill of night. The pub that had been full of life and warmth last night was now cold and empty—eerily quiet. Gerrie slipped out, cloaked under the dark sky, her bare feet sinking into the soft dewy ground.
When her feet met the soil, connecting her directly to Yggdrasil, the part of her that lay dormant for so long awoke with awareness.
She found a quiet spot, close enough to the pub that she could get back in a flash but far enough away that she wouldn’t be disrupted.
It was brief, but there was a moment when her soul recoiled from what she must do. But when her knees hit the ground, it was gone.
This was what she’d been working towards her entire existence.
Gerrie took the humming stone out of her pocket and absorbed the last of the power from within.
Setting out four wooden bowls in front of her, she prepared the ritual.
In the first, she placed a bit of soil. The next, she left empty.
In the third, she poured water from her skein, filling the bowl exactly to the brim.
And for the last, she concentrated hard as a small ball of fire ignited between her fingertips.
She smiled, sending the flame to hover over the fourth bowl.
Placing her hands at her heart centre, palms facing each other but not touching, she chanted the spell that had been passed to her long ago, too many years to count. The air shifted around her as the veil between earth and sky grew thin.
When her eyes opened, a figure stood before her, veiled in gold and light. Gerrie’s own eyes were shrouded by the same radiance as she spoke to the female before her.
“I need your help,” Gerrie whispered.
“How can I be of service?” the ethereal voice answered.
“I have received my final order.”
She listened to Gerrie’s plight, showing no signs of emotion or alarm, as Gerrie had expected.
“Very well,” the being said. “In two days, you will take this tonic.” She placed a vial with golden liquid in front of Gerrie. “And the second you are ready, and not a moment before, take this elixir,” she warned, placing a second vial, this one filled with red liquid, beside the first.
Gerrie nodded, pocketing the vials with care, heart heavy.
“Thank you,” Gerrie said reverently, nodding her head.
When she looked up, the bowls were gone and so was the goddess. Gerrie slumped in her kneeling position. It was almost finished.
That was the last time she would be able to summon her. Weariness clung to her bones, the ache of her spent magic lingering.
Gerrie steeled her spine, reprimanding herself for getting too emotional, and made her way back to the pub.
The barmaid from last night was bustling around, her movements agitated enough that Gerrie became suspicious. She snuck past her, heading towards her room when she heard the barmaid speak in a low voice.
“You called for me?” the barmaid asked.
“When will they be here?” a male voice whispered.
“Soon, but I fear they will wake and be gone before they arrive,” she whispered back.
“What are you doing down here then? Go distract that male. They can’t leave if his cock is buried inside you.”
“What a hardship this post has been,” she said with a pleasant sigh.
Gerrie drifted into the shadows as the barmaid hurried past her. She rolled her eyes when the wench entered Noren’s room again.
They were going to be captured because of Noren’s lack of sense. At least she could have a bit of fun with this escape. Driving Noren mad was one her new favourite pastimes—he made it too easy.
She slunk into her room and woke Viggo, holding a finger to his lips.
He misinterpreted the gesture and playfully bit her, his hand reaching for her.
But before she could also be foolishly distracted, she shook her head, eyes silencing him with a warning.
Viggo followed her lead as she dressed in more durable garb, his silent questions lingering in the air. There was no time to explain.
They gathered their belongings and slipped out of their rooms.
Gerrie put a hand up, signalling for Viggo to wait for her, which he did. He was such an obedient male, and she was hoping to be able to reward him later. But first, she had to get Noren out.
She strained to hear through the door and waited for the right moment, ignoring Viggo’s impatience. Gerrie heard the sounds of creaking increase from inside the room, moaning and gasps of pleasure leaking out into the silence of the morning.
Without warning, Gerrie busted the door open, stunning the pair on the bed. She took only a second to admire the sight.
The barmaid’s plump breasts were in Noren’s skillful hands as she sat on him facing the door, his cock buried deep in her pussy, balls in her careful grip.
“Come to join?” the maid said eagerly, resuming her movement, bouncing up and down on Noren’s cock. He let his head fall back, eyes closing, unfazed by Gerrie’s interruption. She watched as the maid clenched around him, enjoying the sight of his thick length moving in and out of her.
“Sadly, no. I’m here to steal him away from you.”
“Fuck off, Gerrie,” Noren muttered as he accelerated his pace, thrusting his hips up hard, not bothering to stop.
“I wish I could, Nor, I really do. This looks like fun, but sadly, it’s a trap, and this witch is enjoying herself as your sex shackles.”
The maid made an over-the-top gasp of offence. Not believable in the slightest.
Noren’s eyes flashed open and his movements slowed. “What?”
“She’s using you beautifully, but it’s time to go,” Gerrie insisted.
Her earnest tone seemed to catch his attention, and he took one look at the maid’s flushed cheeks, her eyes cast down.
She slammed herself back down on his cock a few more times before Noren gripped her waist and tossed her off him.
He scampered to get dressed, almost falling over in his haste, his cock still straining against his pants.
“You couldn’t have waited until I was finished?” he asked as the trio ran down the stairs, the pub beginning to teeter to life. They snuck out the back door and made for their horses. It was no surprise when Gerrie found the stables empty.
“I’m sure Viggo won’t mind finishing you off later, but even one more minute meant we were done for,” Gerrie said, gesturing to the horizon as a line of guards raced on horseback towards the pub.
“You said this place was safe,” Noren muttered under his breath as they trudged through the forest as quickly as possible.
“I said we would find out, and we did. Not safe.”
“Stop bickering. You’ve had sex, you can’t act like siblings. That would be weird,” Viggo whispered.
“They’re going to find out really quickly that we’re not in that pub. We have to find a place to hide,” Gerrie insisted, ignoring Viggo.
“We should go to the Southern Wilds. I doubt they’d look for us there,” Noren suggested.
She didn’t want to admit that was a good idea and was irritated she hadn’t thought of it first. They changed course, Gerrie leading the way back to the familiar grounds.
Though when they got there, all she saw was the decomposing bodies and ashy remains of what she’d once called home.
They kept to the shadows, sneaking into the half-burnt dining hall. Gerrie fought the swell of emotions as she remembered happier days gone by. Now the whole world was burning.
She hoped it would be reborn and not left forgotten like the Southern Wilds.
Noren showed Viggo where the kitchens were, and they began scrounging for tins of food and provisions. There wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“So now what?” Viggo asked as they sat around a table, eating cold beans.
“We still have our mission from Solveig—we have to get to the Vanaheim castle,” Gerrie said.
“And how do you suppose we get there? We have no horses and we still have to cross the chasm,” Noren countered.
Gerrie leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. “There is one option we could consider.”
“And what’s that?” Noren asked, his face guarded with skepticism.
“I don’t like that look in your eye,” Viggo added.
“We need to get to the palace, right? We need an audience with the king and queen. And we need to do it sooner rather than later. So, let’s go back to the pub,” Gerrie said simply.
Noren and Viggo stared at her. Suspicion doused the modicum of comradery she’d cultivated with Noren, and Viggo looked like he was concerned for her mental state.
“I don’t think that’s the best plan, Ger,” Viggo started slowly.
“It’s a suicide mission,” Noren added.
“And it’s our only option,” Gerrie finished for them.
Viggo slumped against the table in defeat. But Noren didn’t relent.
“And what’s your plan for getting us out of there?”
“I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of female. I’ll figure it out,” Gerrie said. She knew she wasn’t instilling much confidence, but she couldn’t care less.
“There’s one problem—actually, there’s more than one, but something glaringly obvious that we need to deal with,” Noren said, scowling.
Gerrie didn’t respond, only quirked a brow, waiting for him to get it off his chest.
At her silence, Noren continued. “We can’t trust you, we most certainly cannot trust whatever hair-brained plan you come up with. And, if memory serves, the last time we were all tied up, you did not free us. How do we know this would be any different?”
His points were valid—she’d given them no reason to trust her, which meant she only had one card to play.
“Because of Solveig,” she said simply. Gerrie leaned forward, earnest now as the sands of time shifted around them. “Solveig sent me on this mission with you. She trusts me, and since she’s your prince’s mate, you trust her.”
Viggo glanced at Noren before turning back to her. “I’d trust Solveig even if she wasn’t West’s mate,” he said without further explanation. By the look on Noren’s face, he agreed. He sighed in defeat.
“Alright then. Let’s get pretend-captured.”