Weaving Fate - Nora Ash Page 0,64

a little longer,” the redhead said quietly when my hold on the rope slipped. He steadied me with his grip around my body as well as his presence within my magic.

His sparking power tightened around mine, pulling it into place rather than guiding it now. Not that I minded—with every second that passed, it became harder and harder to think of anything that wasn’t sleep.

Blasted magical drawbacks. It seemed a real inconvenience that any use of it resulted in bone-deep exhaustion. If it weren’t for Modi and Bjarni, I’d be well and truly fucked.

Well, I’d be fucked regardless, because of course sex was the only way to replenish my strength.

God, being an omega sucked.

“Why are you laughing?” Bjarni asked over his shoulder. It came out as a grunt, the only indication that he was expending any strength in holding down his father.

Was I? It took me a moment to realize that the jarring sound pounding in my ears wasn’t my blood—it was the sound of my own deranged chuckling.

I swallowed, killing the inappropriate laugh to refocus on the rope. “Sorry, I’m… really tired.”

Finally Modi managed to wrangle the dying embers of the golden light within me. The rope lit up, then faded, looking like any old measure of twine, but I could sense the dull throb of my powers radiating from it, even if what was left inside me was barely a flicker.

“There we are,” Modi said, his magic sliding from mine and leaving me hollow. “That should keep you from attempting to slither away again before you have faced judgement for your ill-doings.”

He handed the rope to Bjarni with one hand, keeping his other arm wrapped tightly around me—a gesture I was grateful for, because I was pretty sure I’d have faceplanted in the snow without his support.

“Foolish children,” Loki growled as Bjarni tied his wrists behind his back. “You don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not responsible for this mess! I’m just the scapegoat—as usual.”

“Yes, the true mark of a falsely accused man,” Modi drawled. “Running away to hide until it is all over, all the while ensuring you and yours will survive the calamity. Well, I guess you get to be grateful that we are bringing you back so you can prove your innocence to the gods of Asgard.”

“Frankly, Father, I no longer care much if you’re innocent or not,” Bjarni said, his voice rougher than Modi’s as he sat up, yanking the dark-haired god to his knees. “You were going to leave my brothers to their fate after all your talk of the importance of our blood. You can hang, for all I care. Or burn. Or sit in a cage with ravens picking at your flesh—whatever Odin’s got planned for you. You’re already dead to me.”

“Boys, boys.” This time Loki’s voice was gentler—smoother. “You’re taking these unfortunate events much too personally. You wouldn’t truly expect someone with my, ah, history with Asgard to willingly offer my neck, hmm? But clearly things have changed… I am willing to cooperate with you, if you vow to help me escape before Odin shortens me by a head.”

“I think you forget that that was an offer we gave you before you were defeated and bound,” I said, my voice raspier than I’d have liked. Even flanked by two powerful alphas, Loki clearly wasn’t the type of being you wanted to display any sort of weakness to. “We don’t need anything from you now that we can’t take.”

As if on cue, Loki turned to me, his dark eyes shrewd even as he molded his features into one of concern. “Is that true? You look so frail, my daughter. Your magic is all but gone. How are you going to stop Ragnarök from taking everyone you love if capturing me has nearly drained your life essence?”

“That’s not for you to worry about,” I gritted. I would stop it somehow, even though I knew he was right. I’d seen the World Serpent—only one of the heralds of Ragnarök—and deep down I knew I wasn’t nearly powerful enough to take it on. Not even with my mates by my side.

Perhaps it’d been hubris all along. If the gods themselves weren’t strong enough to stop Ragnarök, then what chance did I have, Norn-blessed or not?

The thought that had niggled at me since Verdandi’s cave rose like a mountain in my chest, crushing what little strength I had. Was this all for naught? Were we doomed?

“I can help you,” Loki said softly. “Thor’s son can’t