Wrought of Iron and Silk, Book One [2014 Watty Award Winner]

Chapter 15 - Secrets

Chapter 15 – Secrets

The next day, leaves dripped from the trees and the chill breath of winter was immanent in the smoky mist of morning. Loki said the great festival was approaching, one that was far older than the nameless god Cecilia had known in childhood. "On the first day, there's to be the nuptial ceremony and the feast," he'd said to her the previous evening. "The people of this realm put out saucers of blood and wine to summon the goddess Vár. Tomorrow night, they will build a bonfire on the green, and dance in a circle to keep the spirits at bay. The Vanir are of the forest, these are their old customs."

As the sun set over the horizon, Cecilia lit the candles in her chamber one by one, and remembered, to her dismay, she had nothing to wear to the feast other than her cloak and armor from Nidavellir. She examined her worn, muddy undergarments. Threadbare in some spots, it resembled a dingy rag. In spite of that, she started to don it when something caught her eye.

A lovely satin gown with a plunging décolleté hung over her wardrobe door. She ran her hand down it; the texture felt soft and luxuriant to her rough skin. She fingered the delicate trimmed neckline and the two dainty strips down the bodice to the waist, defining her bust line. Rich and subtle and absolutely perfect.

Cecilia took the lovely garment down, held it against herself and glanced into the looking glass. She'd never worn a garment so fine in her life, could never have imagined such a sumptuous color, a dark, dark red like blood.

Where had it come from? And why was it hanging there?

Suddenly, she understood. Loki.

When she was ready, Cecilia slipped on a pair of red gloves and went downstairs and strode along an avenue of rhododendron leading to the gardens of Freyr. Her dark hair hung in loose waves around both shoulders, reaching down past her waist; her smile was engaging, yet her eyes were insouciant and her expression enigmatic. The effect was one of mystery and experience, a woman of the realms. Swirling around her, Elves and Vanir inspected her with the round-eyed wonder of children watching a sword swallower. She thought her performance was rather finely drawn, playacting at its most convincing and perfectly suited to the occasion. There was a sense of artifice about the ball, pomp and circumstance staged by brightly painted gods whose dance step seemed reminiscent of the parade ground.

For a time, Cecilia followed closely behind a group of attendees until they reached a strange part of the forest that Loki called the hinterland. Although she could see nothing, Cecilia was very much aware of the burgeoning life around her, not in the hunched trees particularly, but in the shadows between them: rustlings, crackings; the sound of breath. The ground mist was thicker there, and the presence of wood smoke strong enough to make her eyes water. Presently, Cecilia saw an amber glow through the trees ahead, and could hear a strangely hollow drumming sound.

The hand suddenly covering her mouth from behind and the arm sliding around her waist startled her so that her heart seemed to skip a beat. At once, she recognized the laughter from behind her and wiggled from his grasp. She turned, slapping Loki on the arm in reprimand.

"You're very lucky I'm unarmed," she scolded.

Loki's smirk grew, but he said nothing. The look in his eyes, however, was all too familiar. Cecilia actually stepped back from him. "What are you up to now?" she asked. He was up to no good; she knew from his expression.

"Unfinished business," he muttered as he reached out, letting his arm go around her waist once more, lifted her off the ground and carried her behind a nearby tree and into complete seclusion.

Keeping his other hand over her mouth, he tilted her head to one side, and she nearly fainted from the euphoria of his kiss on her neck. "You look ravishing," he mumbled against her neck. Her flesh tingled from the delightful sensation. He reached out a forefinger and touched a small wave at her temple. "So prim and proper. I like it."