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

Chapter 25 - Recompense

Chapter 25 – Recompense

Loki watched as Cecilia shifted yet again, rolling to her side and grimacing as though in the grip of a nightmare. Her thick dark hair was spread over the ground and her long lashes were feathered down against her cheeks. A whirlpool of thoughts stirred within his mind and soon had swept away any cobwebs of sleep. Guilt pricked him. The sound of her nightmares echoed through the chambers of his mind; watching Asher die, watching him endure the pain as she stood by helpless; unable to move and unable to do anything but watch the elf succumb to his demise.

Conflict gnawed a hole in his stomach as he lay awake staring into the darkness, listening to the warm waters slapping against the rocks that carved their way deep into the earth, he thought of his position and tried to understand the betrayal of his heart. He'd been so thoughtless. Careless. And because of his blindness, he could only see her anger now. Her heartbreak.

And his every thought was of trying to ease both, but he couldn't. Doing either now could not change the past, nor would it change the future those fateful words would bring upon them:

Asher died in battle.

Any alliance with House Lios-Alf was, indeed, fragile at the commencement, much like an eggshell. The elf-prince's death would be considered an act of treachery, though it would remain unclear exactly whose treachery it was. One would need a mind as devious as his own to know where the truth lay. Loki had given his word to Rilien, hoping they would both benefit from their arrangement and would tolerate the uneasy truce they had established for the sake of exacting revenge and gaining power. But with the Asher dead, Loki's armistice with the Alfheim would be broken.

If not today, then the war might start anew tomorrow, and anything could happen in war. The fury of the Light Elves would wage a path of destruction through the forests, leaving all those loyal to Asgard in ruin. And those loyal dwarves – those spiteful Halflings – would no longer talk of peace and reconciliation then. Loki could see Hreidmar marching across the Barren Plains with the intent of burning Asgard to the ground. Nidavellir would deal with the Æsir with their hands and the elves would black out the sun with a myriad of arrows, just as they had promised.

The God of Mischief had made war, thinking to gain, but now he was more likely to lose everything. Cecilia's arm slowly snaked around his waist and she let out a sigh, slipping deeper into sleep – a small smile hovering around the corner of her lips.

He stared at the hint of a smile that played there and then his gaze followed her jaw and throat, noting the steady rhythmic pulse, before moving to her shoulder and following her arm as it wrapped around and ended in the small hand that lay on his chest. His body stirred at her closeness and smell as he took in a deep breath, enjoying that moment before disaster descended on them.

Immersed in thought, it only took a few moments for him to carefully lift her fingers and place light kisses on them, before slowly turning her hand to expose the soft skin of her wrist, placing yet another kiss there. He did not know why that spot fascinated him so.

Then, she endeavored to wriggle her wrist away. "And where do you think you are going, minx?" he laughed softly and then spoke in feigned anger. "Do you think you can leave me wanting?" He placed another kiss there before his gaze traveled upwards to her lips that seemed to beckon for his. Finally giving into temptation, he slowly bent his head, placing a soft kiss on the mouth that had him so captivated. He felt the softness of her lips under his and he let out a sigh of satisfaction as he felt her respond.

Cecilia slowly came to consciousness, becoming aware of the cool body pressed against her; a chill seeping all the way to her bones as his mouth drew warmth from her body. She did not know how long they lay there and explored each other, but when Loki finally released her to take in a much needed breath, she was light-headed from his kisses and her body was shivering from his. She stared up at the dark mist that was her king and wanted to speak, but did not have the voice to tell him that she wanted him to continue.