House Of Gods 9 - Samantha Snow Page 0,9
warm and cozy against the cooling air outside. There was a storm coming, and the heaviness of approaching rain could be felt as Kemma stood in the entryway of the cottage and felt the breeze against her face. The clouds were darkening, and farther off in the sky, she could see the sparks of lightning beginning. It wouldn’t be long before the skies opened up with rain. She turned to go back inside and saw Baldur sitting down on one of the witch’s large red floor cushions with Tannin propped up against his knees facing him. It was funny to watch them look at each other. They both appeared so awkward and unsure. Not that she had all the answers, either; she had just recently watched her child kill two people in front of her, so she was every bit as unsure as Baldur was about the boy. But the look Baldur gave their son was a different kind of uncertainty, one that seemed to reflect more on himself than the baby. It almost made her smile.
“I’ll make us some tea,” she said as she went to the small stovetop and began to rummage through the witch’s cabinets.
“Be careful,” Baldur warned. “She’s a witch, remember? No telling what half of that shit could be.”
Kemma pulled a glass jar down and inspected its contents before holding it up to show Baldur with a smile. “I think we’ll be safe with chamomile.”
When the tea was ready, she carried the two steaming cups in her hands and sat down beside him. She poured a tiny amount of the tea into a small, shallow bowl and let it cool down for the baby.
“How do you know if that’s good for him?” Baldur asked as he eyed what she was doing skeptically.
“I dunno, I just do.”
Tannin was pleased with the drops of lukewarm tea she fed to him and then sleepy. As his tiny eyelids started to stay closed longer at each blink, Baldur set down the child on a nearby cushion to let him sleep. He bundled some blankets together on either side of Tannin so he wouldn’t roll off and onto the floor. As the two of them sat and drank their tea, the sound of rain began to tap against the top of the cottage. It was peaceful, the most peaceful it had been in days.
“What are we going to ask the witch when she gets here?” Kemma said.
“We’re going to ask her what kind of hex is on our child.” It was the first time she had heard Baldur use the word our when referring to Tannin.
“And we’re going to ask her about him, and what will happen if we break this oath of staying together that we swore to him.” Baldur looked over at the baby to make sure he was still asleep and not listening.
“Do you want to break the oath?” she asked.
“Me?” Baldur laughed quietly without answering her question. “Surely you can’t want to stay beside me for more time than you absolutely have to.” Then his demeanor became more serious. “I understand, though. I wasn’t exactly wonderful to you.”
“That’s over now,” she said.
“Nothing is ever truly over. Everything that has touched you, or broken you, or betrayed you, will stay with you in some form or another.”
Perhaps it was the flickering, dim light of the fire, or the shadows playing along the walls between the glass bottles of colorful potions, but Baldur looked differently to her now. He looked more sad than scary and more hurt than wicked. She thought about all the years he had spent exiled in Hel through no fault of his own, and then about how he had fallen in love with Helia and allowed himself to hope it would last forever. She thought about how he was just expected to “move on” and not cause trouble as his friends saw the jealousy and pain within him turn into something else and began to look at him like a monster. What he did had been wrong; of that, there was no doubt.
He should never have tried to steal Leif as a baby just to seek vengeance on Lopt. And he should never have tried to impregnate her just to seek vengeance on Helia. But the words he said to her now were not said as just a warning, they were said from the depth of his experiences. He could not get past the things that had hurt him; he didn’t know how, and