Siren Slave (26 page)

“Evil things.” Siegfried added a shudder for good measure. “My entire ship is filled with the dead. I don’t know how it came to be here, but there it was, the decks blood-soaked. The bodies weren’t identifiable, annihilated by something that couldn’t have been human. For once, I was glad to see Merrick.”

“His slave was found aboard, unconscious,” Merrick said.

“I was so certain she’d drowned. She’d jumped…like a woman possessed, chained and clothed into the Rhine.” The woman’s voice was eerily familiar, husky, lilting. She faced away from Siegfried, but the red enamel on this woman’s long nails, the black curls piled atop her head with feathered combs…all so familiar.

“Julia?” The name was a whisper. Could it really be? Here she was, like a ghost, only she was very much alive.

A long pause ensued. “Yes, Siegfried.”

“How are you still alive? Everyone told me you were dead. I searched for you myself. Did you come here to find me?”

“This…isn’t the time to discuss this,” Julia said, looking fearfully around the campfire. “But I will give you the truth. I do not want to be with you, Siegfried.”

He expected great pain at her words, but there wasn’t. After he thought she’d been dead, he’d felt some measure of guilt for not giving up piracy. But then he thought of each life he’d saved, reread one of the letters from Swan. How could Julia have asked it of him? Even when he thought she was dead, he’d been furious. “Was it because of the Romans? Did they leave you for dead?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” Julia said, unable to look at him. What he could see of her face was cold. “They took what some men pay for, yes. But I was mostly unharmed. They didn’t do the things you…” She closed her mouth, disgust twisting those red lips. “I came here. Rome wasn’t safe.”

“Could’ve left out what you and the Romans did,” Freya snarled. Some of her energy was returning. Good. “I think he already knows how you feel about what he likes. If you like something, your toes curl, not your lip.”

Julia gave her a glare, lip curling more. She seemed to forget her fear in her anger. “And does Siegfried make your toes curl, slave?”

“Not so much curl as clench and tighten,” Freya said. “My toes aren’t freakishly long enough to curl. But that’s not what you’re asking. I like what he does to my body.”

Siegfried didn’t know if she was lying, was doing what was expected of her. If she meant it, why wouldn’t she look at him? He touched her emotions again. She was angry, but she was also hurting.

He didn’t want to be here with Julia any longer. She made him feel like there was something wrong with him again, how she always made him feel.

“Master, I still feel a little ill.” Freya swallowed hard. “My wounds are making me…nauseous.”

“Vercingetorix, do you mind if I see to her?” Siegfried asked. “She’s exhausted herself. We’re only going to our tent. I may need to put you out for a few days until she is well enough to travel again.” Let Vercingetorix think he had no intention of leaving, wasn’t afraid to stay.

“Go ahead,” the war leader said with a nod. “But best you remain in camp if dark things lurk in the night.”

Siegfried tossed Freya over his shoulder and carried her toward the tent they were to share. The Druids were already beginning some sort of cleansing ritual. Each step made him tenser. What was Julia doing here? Was he so awful that she’d fake her own death to get away from him?

“How long did you know Merrick was here?” Siegfried asked. “Did he give you any of these wounds?”

“I knew he was here since I saw him with his nasty mouth on Julia. He said he wanted to pay his old friend a visit, and I don’t think he meant the nice kind of visit where people share booze and reminisce. I don’t know if you want to leave here without Julia. How do you—”

“Julia isn’t important.” He waited for her reaction. Her head jerked up, her gaze confused, so he explained. “They’re all with Merrick now.”

“You didn’t trust Vercingetorix anyways. I saw the way you smelled your wine before you drank it.”

“I especially distrust those in power, and poisons are Merrick’s weapon of choice. That leaves many openings.”

“I don’t think he’ll poison us, because they’re planning on turning us both over to Rome,” she said. “It seemed as if they’d prefer us alive. I know Pompey wanted to use his enhanced torture techniques the day of the wedding, so that’s probably the plan. At least if the Romans get us. Merrick wants to give Vercingetorix part of the reward that’s on our heads. So, I think Vercingetorix knew what happened before you got here, since they had time to plan this out.” She turned away from him and drank his wine, even though it usually made her grimace. “I just need a little bit of time to sit so I can get my powers back, Master.”

There was nothing he could do until she had her powers again, no way they could escape. “You’re suddenly on my side?”

“I know you don’t trust anyone, least of all me.”

Was she attempting to win his trust? Was she trying to manipulate him? “You speak so casually of trust. What would you say if I told you your friends were helping Swan?” He waited to see her reaction to that.

She shrugged—not what he had expected. “I already knew that. What? Do you think I’m going to rat on my friends? It’s you who has the shitty friends.”

“Freya?”

“Yes?”

“I have no idea what to make of you.” His head swam. Was she lying again? He’d wanted to make her angry so she’d let some part of her plan slip.

“I know all about Swan going into the dungeons and freeing the prisoners. I know about that Volos character and his offer to Swan, too. I was glad she showed up. You know Odilia was insulting me by scheduling those executions for my wedding day, don’t you? She knows I hate torture and blood. If you’re going to kill someone, at least do it quick. Give them some dignity. You’re ending a life, after all. Kind of weird, if you think about it, what you’re actually ending. I’m trying to remember that now. But until I do… Even those Druids I killed, they were children once, played chase with their friends in the wood, drank with friends. The latter was probably done while plotting to kill me.”

She gave the wineskin a shake, as if pretending it was someone’s neck. “But someone…someone was probably waiting for them to come home. That power, the Blood Call, isn’t so quick. I don’t like it. I still don’t want to use it unless it means our lives.” She shook her head. “I don’t have my trident any longer. That’s at least quick. Messy, but quick.” She sighed sadly, still not looking at him.

He draped a fur over her shoulders when she shivered. “Why won’t you even look at me? What did Julia tell you?”

“I’m upset because I feel like I don’t know what’s happening. There are layers upon layers of intrigue. You think I’m plotting something, I know it. How could I be plotting anything? You’d know if I were lying, Master. I am bound by a pledge to you. It’s everyone else who’s plotting, and it’s getting worse.”

How had Siegfried missed that? “I don’t see why Merrick would have anything to do with what’s been happening, but all the same, we are going to be very careful getting out of here, Freya.”

“How did he get away with your boat so fast? How did he know what happened in Folkvang so quickly. Not everyone has an Enbarr.”

How had he missed those details? He was getting sloppy. “So this…this is all part of some fey’s plot. We need to get out of here soon.”

“I don’t know if Enbarr can or will carry three of us. Or agree to carry Julia. We might need—”

“We are not taking Julia.” She was jealous? Over him? No plot, just jealousy. He considered what she’d said about fulfilling her pledge and what she’d just done for him. She had saved his damned ship and his crew. Right now, he needed to ease her feelings, even if it meant being honest. Was this why she was hurt? Of course it was.

“I’d thought about her, Julia, when we were together. When I thought of her, it was her…rejection.” He choked on the word. That had hurt his pride, too. Now, he prepared himself for Freya’s.

“Ooh. Well, if you’re thinking of her and it’s favorable toward me, I can live with that. But you had best tell me the truth. Personally, I didn’t see how you could find the lip curling attractive at all.” She tested out curling her lip, then stuck out her tongue.

He moved to sit in front of her, feeling her emotions. Uncertainty, shame. “I am still sorry about the Druids Marking you. The scorn I gave you. An apology is not much, but—”

“Words mean a lot. They can hurt more than blades,” Freya said. “Sometimes things don’t go the way we planned. But if it’ll make you feel better, you can repay me for the boat.”

“Agreed. And it is a ship. Now, tell me what you want.” He was prepared for a request of jewels or some degree of freedom, perhaps to be released from the sexual part of their pledge.

“I want soup.”

He blinked. “Soup?”

“Yes, soup. Hot and with vegetables. No meat. There are Romans here, and it’s hard to see what’s in the meat if it’s in soup. But that’s not all. I’d like a little help with my feet. Wounds and all…”

“What happened to your feet?”

“The shoes Hedwig gave me broke when Idunn yanked me around—the sandals, not the armor boots—so I pulled them off and the rocks cut my feet.”

So Idunn hadn’t been very kind to his Freya. He sighed, more guilt hitting him. “How in the hell are you so forgiving?”

“Hoping you’ll forgive me next time I do something stupid, like when I kept speaking around Vercingetorix.”

“You didn’t lose control tonight, did you?”

“No,” she said. “It was freeing. It’s that other part of me. That’s how I’d describe it. There’s this angry part of me that wants to hurt, rip, tear…” She bit her bottom lip. “I should be afraid of it, but tonight, it was fun.”

He mulled over her words a few breaths before tipping her chin up to meet his gaze. “Expect to be in touch with that part of yourself often, then. I’m here. There is no reason you should be afraid of your powers. Enjoy them, Freya.”

Her response was a crooked smile that tugged at his heart. “That’s nice, Master.” She lowered her voice, doing what he suspected was an impression of him. “‘Have fun sating your bloodlust, Freya. I’ll just make sure you don’t get too carried away.’”

“Something like that, aye.” He chuckled and bent to examine her feet, lifting them onto his lap. The parts that weren’t cut were soft. No callouses, just like the wealthy Roman women. He should not be surprised. She also had a few blisters on her toes and cuts on the top. “Don’t you wear shoes that fit?”

“Odilia oversaw the palace’s wardrobe,” Freya said. “For me, that meant no purple and uncomfortable shoes. I’d told her numerous times the shoes didn’t fit, and she blamed my feet. Do you really think the Romans are going to give us good sandals?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your feet. You’ll have your soup and shoes that fit. You’re going to eat and regain some of your energy.”

“That’s nice,” she said, smiling. She was as changeable as…the weather. That made sense, didn’t it? “I think shoes are one of the nicest gifts you can give a person.” Was she mocking him? Or did she want expensive footwear, the kind that could not be found here? No, she looked pensive. “People’s burdens always rest on their feet. When your shoulders are weighed down with worry, all that weight inevitably goes to your soles. The ground here is so rocky. Without comfortable shoes, it’s hard to keep pressing forward. So, giving someone shoes is like helping them with whatever’s weighing on their soul and encouraging them to keep going with your support.”

There was that silly grin again, as if what she said made perfect sense. It sort of did.

She brought her face close to his, squinting one eye, the tip of her pink tongue poking from one side of her mouth. “What are you thinking about?”

“I expect people to disappoint me, to betray me by doing something like this, what Merrick did, not you. What Vercingetorix did by contracting with Merrick. I expected this more from you than anyone. I was wrong. This betrayal has happened so many times before.” Why was he telling her this? He’d continue, at least a little, expose some of himself, because he’d exposed her enough. “I always hope that people won’t disappoint me, and such a thing is asinine. Even though I expect it, it never ceases to bother me.”

“You just haven’t found the right friends you can trust. Maybe you have some already and don’t know it. But I could be wrong. None of my friends came to save me from the assassins, except for the fey that I just met. And you.”

He shook his head. It was time they left. If Freya’s expressions were any indication, she was feeling calmer. “Come on. Let’s get you your food and shoes.” He’d thought Balder would have met up with them by now, but it was just as well he didn’t have to worry about the bard.

“If something goes wrong, I’ll pretend to be sick again,” she said.

“You pretended to be sick when we left the campfire?” How had he missed that, too?

“Yes. Being able to convincingly pretend you’re going to vomit is one of the most necessary life skills.” She said this as if it were one of the most normal things in the world.

Why, even in the worst situations, did she manage to make him at least chuckle? She made it easier for him to think though, because it relaxed him. If he were ever going to be surrounded by enemies, he had to admit, Freya made the experience almost pleasant.

But how long until she betrayed him, as much as she was capable of betraying him with the bond they now shared? He did not have time to speculate on that, because a certain pale-haired temptress leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. She leveled a brazen smirk at him, swinging her leg.

He growled low and leaned forward, raising a brow. She raised one right, as if to say, “What are you going to do about it?”

She made an “eep” sound when his hands circled her waist and gently lifted her onto his lap. He adjusted her so she faced away from him, so her little ass could feel just how much she tempted him. He whispered against her temple, “Damn you, wench. Teasing me when you should be recovering.”

“I’m recovered enough to tease.”

“I wasn’t going to punish you for neglecting rules while you rest, but since that seems to be what you want—” He stopped right there on that revelation. She had, with her actions, just asked for his discipline. Was he ruining her? He brushed that thought aside and obliged the wench…and himself.