“That’s my understanding. And I can always send Annwyl a breeding pair.”
“That’s one option.”
Dagmar scratched a spot on Nannulf that had the whole wolf-god’s body happily wiggling.
“Do I have other options?”
Eir placed a disturbingly large hand on Dagmar’s shoulder. “Knowledge always allows for other options.”
“Weren’t you missing that finger?” Dagmar asked, staring at Eir’s hand.
She raised her arm, wiggled her fingers. “They grow back … for me anyway.”
“It must be nice to be a god.”
“It has its moments. And stop trying to get me off the subject. You know what I’m trying to tell you.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to stay with Gwenvael.”
Eir clapped her hands together, her grin wide. “But he likes you so much!”
“I find it horrifying that the most feared and deadly god of war is a romantic at heart.”
“Don’t you think the two of you are so adorable together?”
Dagmar eagerly clapped her hands together and said, “No!” before she let her face return to its natural state of disdain.
“It’s not easy finding someone who not only accepts you for who you are but tolerates you as well.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re the type of woman only bloodthirsty battle dogs could love.”
“Thank you,” Dagmar replied flatly.
“Before you get insulted … I am too! And yet Rhy loves me anyway.”
“Rhy?”
“Don’t start.” She gazed off, sighing. “Rhy loves me in spite of the—”
“Occasionally missing body parts?”
“Well—”
“The bits of blood and gore still caught in your hair?”
“That’s—”
“The corpses piled high in your name?”
“Yes!” She let out a frustrated growl. “In spite of all that he loves me.”
“And yet you brought Annwyl back. Against his wishes.”
“She was already dead. His”—she shrugged—“proprietary rights, shall we say, over her were no longer in effect. Her corpse was mine to do with as I wish. The twins were a little more complicated. I couldn’t simply take them since he’d sent them there. And I couldn’t rescue you.”
“Why not?”
She huffed indignantly. “I can’t reward bad behavior.”
“What bad behavior?”
“You don’t worship me. Or any of us.”
“How is that bad—”
“So I had to find another way and that’s when I decided to bring Annwyl back.” She pursed her lips. “It was a risk, though. She’d already been to the other side; she’d been swimming, laying out in the sun, had a little something to eat. Dragging her back here can sometimes cause problems, especially with humans. There was every chance she would have killed you and those babes as she did those Minotaurs.”
“What an excellent plan then.”
“It worked, didn’t it, Lady Sarcasm? And so we understand each other, all I do is set the plan in motion. The rest is up to you.”
“Yes, but I don’t understand all these rules you have in place. Who you can help, who you can’t, when, how … it’s endless. They’re all so complicated.”
“But they have their reasons. I and the other gods of war built these rules for gods and the creatures we gods create for one simple reason.”
“So that when the rules are broken, there’s war?”
The goddess stilled for a moment and then giggled. Giggled like a child. “Yes.” She bent over at the waist, her arms around her middle, the laughter becoming louder. “That is why! And it works every bloody time!”
For the life of her, Dagmar didn’t understand what she liked about this goddess, but she did. She did like her. “I’m glad you’re so amused by all this.”
Wiping away tears, the goddess stood tall. She was a little smaller now. Dagmar wondered how big she could actually get. Or how small. Could she change into a hat?
“One gets her joy where she can,” Eir added. “And that’s all I want for you.”
“Are we back at Gwenvael again?”
“He’s perfect for you. And you love him. Don’t you?”
Dagmar petted the large wolf-god standing beside her. She didn’t have to crouch to reach his back. On all fours he neared her shoulder. “If I were to love anyone, it would be him. But I don’t love anyone.”
“Of course you—”
“I do care. For many things, many people. But I just don’t think it’s in me to love anyone.”
“That very well could be true. But I think if gods can love, then I can hold out hope for you.”
She patted Dagmar’s shoulder. “Good-bye, my friend.” Eir headed deeper into the glen. “It was good seeing you again.”
“And you.” Dagmar smiled at Nannulf. “And you as well.”
After a moment of hesitation she whispered in the wolf-god’s ear, “And watch out for Canute and the others. I don’t think they worship the gods either, but … I think they deserve the protection just the same.”
Dagmar stroked her hand down his head and across his fur. He leaned in, nuzzling her cheek, and, without warning, dragged his tongue across her collarbone.