Excerpt

Odin's gallery in Valhalla was filled to overflowing with delegates from eight of the Nine Norse Worlds. Hel was there representing her realms of the dead and Niflheim. An outraged contingent of frost giants had also staked a claim to Niflheim as their domain. A predictable scuffle ensued that had shifted from curses to the ring of steel on steel. One of Hel's serpents was with her. Its forked tongue lashed in and out, spraying poison at the giants.

Odin crashed a fist down on the scarred wooden table that ran the length of the messy hall. The place had clearly seen better days, and it didn't appear anyone ever cleaned it.

"'Tis not why we are here," he thundered and skewered Hel and three frost giants with his single fog-colored eye. Dark hair spilled down his back in many small plaits tied off with colorful bits of leather.

I'd never seen frost giants before, but I understood why they'd been named. Icicles clung to their whiskers and dripped down their chests. They wore skins, carried clubs and flails in addition to swords, and looked rather like my idea of caveman warriors. Big ones, though. Humanity's predecessors had been tiny by Norse standards.

The remainder of the room's occupants were interesting as well. I'd never laid eyes on a living dwarf, either, but I had seen the occasional elf.

Hel bowed in Odin's direction. "I hear and obey, my liege." Her huge, black cobra-esque snake slithered to her side and wound around her ankles much like a cat would have.

"Better." Odin still sounded grumpy. "I'll bring the Hunt in to establish order if I have to."

"We doona want them here," an elf shouted. Raspberry hair fell to his feet, and his gossamer wings were decorated with glittery patterns.

"No one does," Hel told the elf, "which is precisely why Odin threatened us with their presence."

"Ye concede Niflheim to us?" one of the frost giants boomed.

"Nay, I doona." Hel's response was acid enough to curdle milk.

Both of Odin's ravens took to the air, cawing as they circled the giants. "I said this topic is closed." Odin's voice was level and even—for once. "If ye canna comply, ye must leave. If ye do, ye will still be bound by today's decisions even though ye had no say in them."

Amid grumbling, the frost giants sheathed their weapons and lumbered to the edges of the hall. Its ceiling was at least four meters tall and supported by rough-hewn beams and upright posts.

Odin took a slug from one of the twin drinking horns draped around his neck. Thor sat to his left, his fair hair spilling down his chest in two thick plaits. Unlike his father, his eyes were more blue than gray. In contrast to his hair, his beard was flame red. Other Norse gods were arrayed around the table. No one had bothered with introductions after learning my name, probably because I was the only one here who didn't know everyone.

Zelli, the copper-scaled dragon I'm bonded to—my right as a Dragon Heir—stood behind me. Dewi, the Celtic dragon god, was next to her, red scales shining like burnished fire. I felt the occasional flare of magic between them and was certain they were chatting up a storm about me and my unexpected turn of events.

I quashed a mental wince. Even within my thoughts, I was so conflicted I was having a hell of a hard time saying the word pregnant. I'd done what I usually do when I felt overwhelmed: pushed the whole mess aside with promises to think about it later.

Not that I didn't have some time. At least I figured I did. I'm part Celtic god and part dragon. Bjorn Nighthorse is sitting next to me. He's my mate. Delight and pride and determination have practically oozed from him since the dragons sensed a hatchling within me. Bjorn carries Norse and dragon blood. I have no flipping idea what this baby will be. I mean, it will look human—probably—but the little creature will be magic incarnate.

We'll probably have to ward the nursery to keep him contained.

I should be paying attention to the meeting, but Odin hadn't said much after censuring Hel and the frost giants. Or maybe he had. I wasn't exactly at the top of my game. How could I be? I had so many questions. How long would I be pregnant? Would it be the normal nine months? Or some other variable? Dragons laid eggs. If I remembered right, it took them something like two years to hatch.

Sooooo, splitting the difference meant I had roughly sixteen months before the birth. Or maybe I only had nine. Or perhaps even less. Magical children have their own timetables. I chewed on my lower lip. Less was unacceptable. I had so much to do even eating and sleeping felt like luxuries.

Speaking of dragons, Quade is bonded to Bjorn. I neglected to mention him, but he's huge and black and part of the dragon gabfest unfolding behind me. Probably, they didn't see any reason to focus on Odin, either. So far, all he'd done was act as a referee. After a couple more transits of the hall, the ravens returned to his shoulders.

Huginn and Muninn, Thought and Memory, were beautiful birds. Twice as large as normal ravens, their black feathers glistened, and their dark eyes shone with sharp intelligence. If legends were true, they flew the length and breadth of the Nine Worlds acting as Odin's spies and feeding him knowledge as they gleaned it.

"Why is no one from Midgard here?" one of the Norse women asked. Golden hair swept back from her high forehead and cascaded to the floor around her chair. Her eyes were the color of polished amethyst.

Thor shot her an annoyed look, but she faced off against him and turned her hands palms up. "Midgard is the focal point of the current attack. It's turned into a wasteland. I assumed mortals would care about their fate, but apparently not." An eloquent shrug held a "let them stew in their own shit" flavor.

It annoyed me enough, I spoke up. "Humans didn't believe in magic. Now they're scared shitless of it. Do you blame them? From where they sit—or cower in ruins, more accurately—magic broke their world. Nothing is left of their old way of life."

"Aye?" The unknown Norsewoman raised a golden brow. "Ye'd still think they might show the slightest interest in their destiny."

An idea flashed through me. "I can secure a representative from Midgard. Probably two or three. They're not mortals, but witches. Would that be good enough?"

Breath whistled through the woman's teeth. "I suppose 'tis better than naught."

I stood, preparing to leave, when Bjorn jumped to his feet. "You're not going alone," he said.

I twisted to stare at him. "Don't be silly. I'll return before you know it."

He stared back. "How were you planning to transport the witches?"

It was a decent question. One I should have an answer for, except I didn't. While I can teleport, witches can't. "Uh, Bifrost?"

"Which is why you need me. The rainbow bridge barely tolerates your presence."

I bristled. Granted, my first encounter with the bridge hadn't been pretty, but it had been resolved courtesy of Zelli's intervention.

"No one leaves," Odin bellowed. "Not until we have crafted first steps to deal with the dark magic flowing unimpeded into Midgard. I've taken care of the witch problem. 'Tis well in hand."

The back of the meeting hall grew indistinct, fluid, and shiny with reds and golds. When they cleared, Nidhogg stepped through a portal. The Norse dragon is pure gold with silvery green whirling eyes. A smaller blue dragon named Ysien followed him into Odin's halls.