Weaving Fate - Nora Ash Page 0,79

to Sleipner as a simple horse, but yes. Odin is more than happy to claim my spawn as a boon if it suits him. But if they’re trouble? I’m apparently behind it.”

“A horse? You fathered a horse?” I was still having a really hard time getting past the whole equine-son thing. “And a ginormous sea-serpent? I… I’m sorry, I know you’re a god and there’re different rules, but how do you even…? Never mind, I don’t think I want to know.”

“Ah. Mortal morals,” he said, a small smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. “I’m pleased they’re not a hindrance when it comes to who you yourself share your body with. From the sounds of it, having multiple mates comes very, hmm, natural to you. Not a lot of human women would be able to enjoy themselves with more than one alpha. I admit, I expected this arrangement I established with your ancestors to be more of a burden than it appears it is.”

A flush of embarrassment heated my face at the confirmation that he’d heard me with Modi and Bjarni.

“You know nothing about my mate bonds, and I’ll thank you to not speak another word of them,” I hissed. Angry that I’d let him get under my skin again, I stood and turned to leave.

“Annabel,” he called.

I stopped and looked at him over my shoulder. Bound on the ground and surrounded by snow as he was, he still looked every inch a dark god, charcoal hair framing his eerily glowing face.

“I am not behind Ragnarök. I swear it on my own life. There’s a traitor in Asgard.”

I stared at him. There was absolute sincerity in his dark eyes. But he was the trickster god—how could I ever hope to determine if he was just manipulating me again?

“This sounds like something you should tell Odin once we get to Asgard,” I said.

He chuffed a laugh through his nose. “If history has proven anything, it’s that Odin cares little for finding the truth if it means losing out on a chance to blame me for whatever threat is at Asgard’s gates this time around. I fear your mates might be similarly afflicted, blinded by hatred and skewed perception. But you. You hold no such preconceived notions, hmm, little omega?”

I blinked. “Are you telling me everyone hates you for no good reason? After you’ve just manipulated me into thinking I would lose my mates? After you killed Arni and Magga? Told your own son he and his brothers are on their own?”

Loki grimaced. “I know I’m no conventional hero. I’m the God of Mischief, after all. But I have no reason to want to bring forth Ragnarök, and if you don’t listen to me, all your efforts, all your sacrifice will be for naught. You might live—you might not. But your world will be gone. Your friends, your family. There is a traitor in Asgard. Left unchecked, they will succeed in their evil purpose.”

“And you just happen to know who this traitor is?” I asked, eyebrows raised in mock-surprise. “How very convenient.”

“I do not,” he said, somewhat to my surprise. “But I know how to reveal them.”

“Let me guess—for the low, low price of your freedom?” I folded my arms across my chest. “How come you haven’t revealed this traitor on your own a bit sooner? Say, before the Fimbulwinter hit and that serpent son of yours started paddling around the Atlantic?”

“I’ve been unable to access Valhalla for many years now. And to be frank, so long as I could secure my own lineage, I wasn’t too concerned. Obviously, that has changed now.”

He held out his bound hands, a sardonic slant to his lips. “My offer is simple: once you have displayed my successful capture to the god-king and as a result my sons are free from his retribution, you will free me. Once you have done that, I will tell you how to reveal the traitor.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “And what guarantee will I have that you won’t just take off without revealing a thing?”

Loki gazed over my shoulder toward the fire. When I twisted to follow his gaze, I saw Bjarni watching us like a hawk. A small bubble of warmth grew in my gut at the confirmation that he would always look out for me.

“I will tell you at a… more opportune time,” Loki said lightly, his focus returning to the wooden plate hosting his rapidly cooling breakfast. “You can think on my offer until then.

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