Norse

A Star Academy Prequel

Advanced Reader Copy Edition: March 2, 2024

Copyright ©2024 G. Younger

ISBN-13: 978-1-955699-12-9

Author: Greg Younger

Editing Staff: Bud Ugly, Old Rotorhead, Pixel the Cat, Rusty, TheMikeBomb, and Zom

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Table of Contents:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Notes from the Author

Prologue

Brodie Erikson was suffering through the last class of the day, Ancient History.

“When humanity left Earth to populate space, colony ships were sent to seed potential planets. The occupants were put into cryosleep, knowing it might be a hundred years before they were awakened. It took a special breed to leave everything behind with the knowledge that everyone they once knew would be long dead.

“Like our ancestors, who explored the seas of Earth, the Norsemen accepted the challenge nearly three thousand years ago to establish the first colony.

“Who here can tell me why we did not call ourselves Vikings?”

Brodie looked around and saw that no one was going to answer their teacher.

“Because the term was first used by the Anglo-Saxons in Earth’s middle ages. They were initially called wicing, which was Old English and translated into Latin as pirate. Almost a thousand years later, in the 18th century, the word Viking was introduced into Modern English. During that time, it acquired the romanticized meaning of barbarian warrior or noble savage.

“In reality, the pirates were a small fraction of the North Germanic ethnic group called Norsemen,” Bjorn answered.

The chime went off to end the session. Brodie removed his headset and smiled when his two best friends, Valkyrie ‘Val’ Hansen and Erik Tor, were pulling theirs off. Val and Erik’s parents worked on Brodie’s family estate. The three of them had been inseparable for as long as Brodie could remember.

Since his parents only wanted the best education for Brodie, he was remotely home-schooled in a ‘classical’ style three days a week. Two days were devoted to ‘practical’ training, which most of the local children received. As it sounded, it was learning by doing. That left one day for rest and the last for ‘combat’ training.

Since Val and Erik would someday become Brodie’s lieutenants, they both got the same educational benefits he did. Val fancied herself a warrior, focused on combat strategy, and Erik had a mind for electronics. Brodie was placed into leadership and governing classes because he would become part of the Norse ruling class when he was old enough.

Many thought being a future leader was a privilege, a gift given only to a lucky few. In some ways, they were correct. But most didn’t realize the responsibility that came with that birthright. They had no idea how suffocating it could be. There were days when Brodie would have given anything to walk in a commoner’s shoes and breathe in that station’s freedom.

His life was already planned for him to the finest detail. His father would choose who he married without considering who he might love. His secret hope was that his mother would step in and allow him to marry for love or, at the very least, have a say in the matter. He would also be told what he would do for a living. Being twelve years old, it all felt so unfair.

His mother had told him that he would learn to love his wife as she had his father. That when he was older, it would all make sense. But there was no question that he would do his duty for his family. So, he had better learn to make the best of it.

His grandmother called them all to the kitchen for a snack. She was small for a Norsewoman. She had a slight limp from an ax injury in her youth, which was the only sign of her advanced age. Her hair was still a golden blond that had not yet been touched with silver. She wore it in a traditional braid down the center of her back.

They could smell the fish stew cooking over a traditional open flame as they entered the kitchen. The planet Norse had an abundance of trees but very few other natural resources. That meant they burned wood to heat their homes and for cooking. Most of their industry used steam power, which also used wood.

“Val, grab the bowls. Erik, get the bread and butter. Brodie, I heard the delivery bell. Go down and see what came,” Grandmother Erikson ordered her charges.

Brodie ran downstairs, looked in their delivery box, and found three envelopes with his and his friends’ names on them. It had to be something official because the envelopes had royal seals and looked expensive. He hoped this was in response to the three of them applying to Star Academy Summer Camp.

Brodie ran into the kitchen, waving the golden tickets over his head.

“They came!”

His grandmother’s face clouded over.

“I think you kids should wait until your parents are here to open those.”

Brodie couldn’t wait; he ripped his open. Val and Erik followed his example.

Congratulations on being accepted to hersir training at the prestigious Hel Academy …

When Brodie’s head snapped up, so did his two friends’.

“What the …?” Brodie began. “What does yours say?”

“Military and Security training with the King’s Guard,” Val said.

“Navigation and Engineering training at Star Academy,” Erik said.

“And yours?” Grandmother Erikson asked.

“Hersir training on Hel.”

Brodie knew it was a great honor because only a select few were allowed to attend Hel Academy. It was intended for high-ranking military leaders. In ancient history class, Brodie remembered that a hersir would be responsible for 100 or more soldiers. Nowadays, it was the highest-ranking soldier in a clan or, if they reported to the King, the kingdom.

To be accepted at the academy on Hel, you had to be recommended, and King Denhardt had to approve it. Only a handful were taken each year. To Brodie’s knowledge, the youngest to ever be invited was King Denhardt when he was only eighteen. Most of his fellow students would be at least twenty-five if not thirty-five.

If Brodie succeeded, he would be twenty when he graduated in eight years.

The other daunting issue was the planet itself. Hel’s gravity was on the high end of what was considered a habitable planet. It also only had two narrow bands that could support life. The equator was desert, where temperatures were reported to reach 54 degrees C. To the north and south of the livable zones was covered in ice, where it could get down to -45 degrees.

The rumor was that the academy used weather extremes in their training.

“This has to be a mistake,” Brodie decided.

His grandmother smacked him on the back of the head.

“Listen, young man. Your King does not make mistakes. I don’t want to ever hear you challenge his decision-making in public ever again. Is that clear?”

Brodie realized his serious misstep.

By now, the three kids had lost their appetite. Grandma Erikson kicked them out of her kitchen so she could finish the evening meal.

They went to Brodie’s room to talk.

None of them could come up with a plausible answer as to why they were being sent to the academies so soon.

◊◊◊

The three gathered at the spaceport one week later to leave for their new schools.

They all made vague promises to keep in touch but knew that would be almost impossible. So there were a lot of tears as they hugged out their goodbyes.

In the blink of an eye, Brodie was on a shuttle that would take him to his transport. He watched his two best friends wave goodbye.

◊◊◊

Chapter 1

Something inside Brodie Erikson was restless. He couldn’t put his finger on it. But it felt as if an earthquake raged in his stomach or some mighty storm was brewing on the horizon, sure to bring dramatic change to his life. Brodie could sense it coming steadily toward him. At first, he thought it related to his pending return home, but now it seemed more substantial than that. He felt the need to prepare himself but didn’t know what to prepare for.

Brodie had been away at Hel Academy, training to be a hersir for the past eight years. At the age of twenty, he was the youngest to hold that title in the last millennium. All his classmates had been fifteen to thirty years older, and more than one had tried to kill him because he was a boy among men and women.

He knew people back on Norse wouldn’t be happy to have someone so young become hersir—commander of all the clan’s troops—so he’d arrived a day early on the last shuttle into the starport. The hope was that he would avoid conflict, and if he were officially installed as hersir, it would calm the waters.

He’d boarded a small shuttle three days ago with the six graduates of this year’s class. Brodie had worked his butt off because he was so young. The class started out with eight students. Two of them had tried to end his life, and Brodie had been forced to defend himself with extreme prejudice. Two successive failures put a stop to the attempts.

That didn’t mean that the other five didn’t actively conspire to hold Brodie back. To their dismay, he slowly worked his way up the class ranking until he was at the top of the class come graduation.

It was customary that the valedictorian would get the pick of postings. He’d been offered two that interested him. The first was to command the King’s Guard on Mulheim. That coveted position would have given him the King’s ear, and he could have turned that into just about anything, including eventually commanding the King’s army.

The second position was to be the second in command of Thor, a crown jewel in the Norsemen’s space force. It was named after the god of thunder because the massive ship was equipped with a planet-busting weapon.

He decided against either position because it would make him the envy of and, in turn, the enemy of too many people. Instead, he decided on the original reason he was sent: to become hersir of his clan’s forces and eventually the jarl—chieftain—of the clan when his father stepped down.

The shuttle had taken them to a space station, where he booked passage on a passenger liner to Mulheim. There he found this cargo hauler looking for passengers headed to Norse.

When he boarded, the first thing he noticed was the overwhelming smell of lubricants and a whiff of a recent electrical fire. He’d been up seventy-two hours straight, so he strapped in and promptly fell asleep.

◊◊◊

He jerked awake to the feel of thrusters reversed; they made a throaty, crackling sound as the hauler vibrated, lurched to a stop, and floated down to the tarmac. The viewport slowly cleared of all the dust and steam that had been created by the engines and landing thrusters. When the tarmac cooled, a chime sounded to let him and his fellow passengers know they could depart safely.

Brodie had traveled with a couple of haggard-looking lumberjacks on leave. The two of them looked hungover and ignored him as they stepped out onto the tarmac. The loggers had a transport waiting for them, as did the flight crew.

Brodie should’ve arranged something because the place was deserted at this time of night. To make matters worse, it began to rain. Within a few minutes, he was soaked through as he trudged toward town with his travel bag on his back. He’d made it to the gate when he saw a transport speeding down the road at an alarming rate toward him. When it got close, it slowed, then stopped.

“Get in!”

Brodie smiled because that had to be Val. The back door opened, and he threw in his travel bag and slid into the back seat. Up front, Erik was smiling at him.

“You grew up,” Erik said.

His two friends hadn’t seen him since they went their separate ways when they were twelve. Brodie was so busy that he’d only managed to sneak out a few messages while training.

“It looks like you both did as well,” Brodie said. “How did you guys know I was here?”

Erik looked like a typical young Norseman with long blond hair falling down his back, a trimmed beard, muscular arms and shoulders, and blue eyes. His arms and shoulders had developed from many hours of wielding an ax.

Even in the modern age of energy and projectile weapons, the Norsemen were known for close-in fighting with handheld bladed weapons. On a ship, it made sense not to use energy or projectile weapons because you might fry something critical or punch a hole through the hull.

Val was the warrior among them. She was as big as Erik, with her blond hair in two braids that hung down over her chest. Val’s specialty was the shield and spear.

Brodie was the biggest of the three, standing seventy-six centimeters (six-four). He wasn’t as muscular as his friends because he relied on his speed, quickness, and endurance. His weapon of choice was the seax, an oversized Viking knife. While he could use any weapon to great effect, he was a master with his knife.

Val pointed at Erik, who gave him a sly smile.

“I have my ways,” Erik said mysteriously as Val drove into the starport, not toward town.

“Where are we going?”

“We have a surprise for you,” Val said.

In the back of the starport was a storage area for starships. Many had been abandoned for salvage. Val pulled up to what looked like an old explorer scout ship that had seen better days.

“What’s this?” Brodie asked.

“We knew you’d need a ship when you came back, so when we returned, Erik emptied your credits, and we bought this. She’s almost ready,” Val said proudly.

Brodie had a momentary twinge when he heard they’d raided his credits, but they’d always been closer than brothers and sister, so he let it go. Val hit a remote, which opened a door and lowered a ramp. The three jumped out of the transport and ran inside to escape the rain.

Explorer scouts’ primary mission was twofold: to gather intel on their enemies and explore unknown star systems. They had little or no weaponry but were quick, stealthy, and designed to support a crew of nearly a hundred for long hauls.

As he stepped inside the ship, it looked as rough as the exterior, with peeling paint and dingy grime on everything. He hoped Erik had bought this at a bargain-basement price because, so far, he wasn’t impressed.

They went to the bridge, and Brodie noted the ship’s name on a plaque by the door: Loki’s Mischief. Under that, it said, ‘Captain Erikson.’ A spaceship was like a complex organism, with the nerve center being the bridge. Loki’s Mischief’s bridge was in the center of the ship, behind hardened armor and shielding. This made sense because the ship itself was originally designed to be lightly armored throughout, and early designs of the class had their command centers easily destroyed.

He could instantly tell that this was an area that Erik and Val had been working on because it was clean, and he spotted many upgrades. This gave him hope for the rest of the ship.

Behind the command chair was a meeting table where the crew could use all the ship’s systems while planning missions, looking at three-dimensional star maps, or firing weapons.

Brodie noted that there were only four stations in front of his command chair. There had been eight or ten on the old scout ship, depending on the model.

“Why so few?” Brodie asked.

“Remember the ship designs you sent me?” Erik asked.

Brodie nodded. It was probably a serious security breach, but he’d sent his friend a copy of a few of the more exotic alien ship designs he’d studied at Hel Academy. They hadn’t been explicitly told the drawings were classified, so Brodie scanned them and sent them to Erik, who loved that kind of stuff.

“The Vuln drone ship gave us ideas on how you could pilot this ship with little or no crew. We quickly realized that if we put in standard workstations, they could be switched to handle anything from weapons to navigation by making a selection,” Erik explained.

The Vuln were a long-lived race with a low birthrate, which meant they didn’t have a lot of bodies to run a ship. Life was precious to them, so all the starfighters were drones.

“Adding a primary AI and multiple sub-AIs made it simple to automate almost everything. In a pinch, the ship could get you to the nearest starport, even if the entire crew was incapacitated,” Val said.

Brodie felt the need for more sleep and knew if he didn’t nip this in the bud, his two friends would have him up all night touring his new command.

“Guys, as much as I love your show and tell, I need a hot shower and a rack. I’m meeting my father in the morning to get sworn in,” Brodie reminded them.

Erik and Val had to get home, so they left Brodie on the ship.

They directed him to the captain’s cabin. He was glad to see it had been remodeled, even if it did smell like cleaning supplies. He had worried about sleeping on a grimy bed. Brodie tossed his bag on his desk and got undressed to get clean before sleeping. When he stepped into the shower, a man’s voice asked, “What temperature do you desire?”

“Thirty-six Celsius.”

“Would you like music?”

“No. Just the shower,” Brodie answered.

Something Brodie loved about Norse ships was that their showers used actual water. For the past eight years, he’d used a cleaning dust shower you vacuumed off your body. His instructors claimed it was more sanitary than recycled water, but the water felt like paradise to Brodie.

When he was done, he put on a pair of shorts and pulled down his rack. Once he got into bed, he opened his communicator and saw a message from his mother, so he played it.

“We’re having a ‘welcome home’ party for you tomorrow night. Make sure you don’t make plans with Erik and Val because it’s mandatory that you attend. Your father wants to get you acquainted with your command team in a social setting.

“I also want you to meet some women who potentially would make acceptable brides. I’ve attached their dossiers so you can familiarize yourself with them. Let me know if any of them are not to your liking, and I will find replacements,” his mother concluded and signed off.

If she had her way, he would be married and producing a hoard of grandbabies before the year was out. The clan needed a new heir, after all.

Being who she was, his mother didn’t leave anything to chance. There was a list of twenty ladies she wanted feedback on. He feared the list would grow if he didn’t quickly scan through them and reply to her. He noted they were from prominent families that would benefit the clan somehow.

He sorted out the ones that were too old. Norsemen were long-lived and known to have children well into their eighties. But he didn’t want a bride who was over thirty. After thinking about that some more, he realized his mother would complain he was being ageist, so he extended the criterion to thirty-five.

Next, he eliminated anyone who hadn’t received advanced education or stated they only wanted to raise children. His reasoning was that he planned to spend time with them, so they had to challenge him mentally. If this had been a more natural process, that consideration would never have been made. But to reduce the size of the list, he did it anyway.

He noted his mother had been wise and had not included pictures of any prospects. The twelve-year-old Brodie would’ve simply swiped through their photographs, selected the prettiest, and let his hormones decide.

His mother had given him basic information about height, eye color, and the like, so he picked taller women since he was six-four.

Based on those criteria, he narrowed the list to five. The AI provided its opinion as he was about to send it off.

“You should add Val.”

There had been very few times in his life when Brodie had the wind knocked out of him, and it had never happened when he wasn’t in a fight. He’d never considered Val more than his best friend, but there was something to be said for selecting her. If for no other reason than the two of them got along and would have fun.

The obvious concern was that they hadn’t been in contact for the past eight years. Plus, Brodie liked her too much to put her through his mother’s matchmaking shenanigans. So, he decided against adding her to the list.

With that done, he prepared for sleep.

“What am I to call you?” Brodie asked the AI.

“Whatever you want.”

“Does everyone call you AI or something else?”

“Erik calls me Loki’s Helper. Val has a variety of names for me, none too flattering.”

“I take it you defeated her in training exercises,” Brodie said and thought for a moment. “How about we just call you Loki?”

“Very well, sir. I have changed my name to Loki.”

“While I’m asleep, you are in command,” Brodie said as he closed his eyes.

It felt good to be back home. Tomorrow would be a great day.

◊◊◊

Brodie had no trouble falling asleep; it was what happened afterward that had him troubled. Dreams … or a dream, to be precise. The same one visited him repeatedly, like a faithful dog that came when it was called. He didn’t summon it, but it had come unbidden every night for the past three months.

He was joking around with Val and Erik before he was to go into the great hall when a massive explosion rocked him out of bed.

Wait, what?! Brodie found himself lying on the floor; this was no dream. He’d somehow slept through the ship taking off; he hadn’t been certain it was spaceworthy yet. Brodie heard the whine as the point-defense guns began to spin, then the distinctive ththththththth sound as a hundred rounds ripped off in half a second, followed by cut-off screams and an explosion.

“Status!” Brody yelled as he grabbed his knives.

“Hull breach on the lower level. I count three intruders armed with heavy energy weapons. I’ve neutralized everyone outside, but more are coming.”

“Get us in the air and destroy the ground troops. Be on alert for aircraft. I’ll deal with the intruders,” Brodie commanded.

Fighting armed troops, who he assumed were in armor, with him barefoot and clad only in shorts might have sounded ludicrous. That was exactly what the lead intruder must have thought when he spotted Brodie running toward him. The man raised his gun and ordered, “Halt!”

Whoever they were, they must have been told to bring Brodie in alive because the point man hesitated. That told Brodie their mission wasn’t to kill him; it was to kidnap him before he officially became hersir. The man’s hesitancy allowed Brodie to close the gap so he could jam one of his knives through the faceplate and deep into the man’s eye. As he began to drop, Brodie took the fallen soldier’s assault rifle and drilled holes in his two cohorts.

The last one looked to be in command, so Brodie had only shot him in the shoulder so he would drop his weapon.

He knocked the commander flat on his back, with Brodie pressing the muzzle of the energy weapon to his throat.

“Who sent you?!” Brodie yelled.

“Fuck you!”

The energy gun must have been set on high because it blew the man’s head off.

The ship tilted forty-five degrees and made a hard turn, followed by firing three missiles. A half second later, the hull shook as the rockets exploded way too close for comfort. Loki was about to declare war on all of Norse if he wasn’t careful.

Brodie picked his ass off the deck and ran to the command center.

“Two unidentified bogies closing fast,” Loki warned.

“Do whatever is needed. Don’t wait on my command,” Brodie said.

Did his AI just chuckle in glee? It was a good thing he’d strapped himself into the command chair because Loki’s Mischief jerked sideways and downward as the point-defense guns all lit up at once, followed by explosions that rattled his teeth.

Then the whole ship jerked as the twin cannons fired simultaneously.

“Oops,” Loki said.

“What does ‘oops’ mean?” Brodie asked.

“I fired electromagnetic pulse rounds to disable the ships. I forgot about gravity.”

Loki turned on a view screen as two attack frigates crashed into the forest outside the city. The ammunition magazine of one of the ships detonated on impact, making a giant crater in the countryside as it exploded. That woke up everyone within a hundred-click radius.

Even at his worst, Brodie had never managed to burn down ten square kilometers of forest. He was in so much trouble.

“Did you do that?” Val asked over the comms.

“Is that a hole in my ship?” Erik asked at the same time.

“Brodie Erikson!” The unmistakable sound of his dad’s voice interrupted them. “Land that ship immediately!”

“We can still get away,” Loki suggested.

Brodie agreed with his new favorite AI but ordered him to land at the starport.

One thing he was sure of was the whole planet knew he was home now.

◊◊◊

Chapter 2

As soon as they landed, Brodie hurried to his quarters to get dressed. He didn’t need there to be a vid showing him being taken into custody in just a pair of shorts. As he pulled on his shirt, he noticed Loki had put a scorecard of sorts on his display screen.

Death Count

Loki – 118

Brodie – 3

Erik – 0

Val – 0

Someone was going to have to explain where they got this AI. It was as if Loki had taken on the mythical god’s personality. Almost every AI he’d encountered never showed excitement, especially during combat. Most had no personality to speak of. Looking back, he would rather have an overzealous AI than be dead, so he let his worries go for the moment.

There were more important things to worry about, like the swarm of security transports racing to the spaceport. The overriding question was: who was out to kidnap him?

As he pulled on his boots, Brodie decided he should have a word with his AI.

“My father’s security team will be here in a moment, and none of them are to be harmed. Allow them access and cooperate with their investigation. If they attempt to shut you down or restrict your programming, you may defend yourself and the ship by non-lethal means.

“Before I get back, fix that hole in the side of my ship. While I’m not on the ship, you are in charge unless either Val or Erik is onboard,” Brodie said.

“If both are present, who’s in charge?”

That sounded like a question an AI would ask.

“Who do you suggest?”

“Val for combat situations, and Erik for everything else,” Loki said.

“Make it so.”

“Yes, sir. Am I allowed to make repairs beyond the hull breach?”

“Yes.”

Brodie looked at the external view screen and saw the security team standing outside. He grabbed his duffle and exited the ship.

◊◊◊

Lorelei ‘Elle’ Gundersen and Katja ‘Kat’ Fiske were in a heated discussion.

“I thought my people were boarding a dilapidated scout ship. Instead, I lost two of my best ships and over a hundred men and women!” Kat barked.

Elle had seen the pirate get mad before, but this was a new level of rage. She was glad they were separated by millions of kilometers of space.

Kat was the warlord of the pirates that called themselves ‘The Lost Ones.’ She was pacing in her office within an asteroid that acted as The Lost Ones’ home base.

Elle was the jarl of the Gundersen clan and benefactor to The Lost Ones. The pirates took care of matters the Gundersen clan didn’t want to have tied to them, such as removing the Erikson hersir before he could take command.

The jarl’s office had floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Ægir Sea. The view never disappointed in impressing her visitors. The building itself was made out of wood and had been shaped like a pearl. The outside had been covered with a material made from genuine crushed pearls so that it gleamed in the sunshine. It could be seen from many klicks out at sea and was used as a beacon if a ship lost navigation.

By fluke, one of the loggers who’d traveled to Norse from Mulheim recognized Brodie Erikson and collected the notification bounty. She quickly sent drones to track Brodie and found him and his childhood friends entering the old scout ship, Loki’s Mischief. It was too good an opportunity to pass up when his friends left, leaving Brodie alone and an easy target, or so she thought.

Elle had hired The Lost Ones to be on standby in case they got lucky, so they were in place when she notified Kat. It was as if everything was coming together when she watched Kat’s team breach the hull and enter the ship. Then all hell broke loose. Less than five minutes from the time of the breach, all life signs of the boarding team were gone.

In a fit of rage, Kat sent her two best attack ships after Loki’s Mischief. From long range, they launched missiles to blow it out of the sky, only to see the scout show that it was more than it seemed as it survived the initial attack. The counterattack was two powerful electromagnetic pulse rounds that disabled Kat’s ships. With no engines or thrusters to keep them aloft, they plummeted to the surface, where one exploded, causing a massive fire. The other vessel was severely damaged and had lost all hands.

“There was no way to know in advance that the scout ship had been upgraded. As far as we knew, it had been parked in the same location for the past fifteen years and was a scrap derelict,” Elle said.

Scrap ships were used for parts for other craft, and this one shouldn’t have been able to even get off the ground.

“Let me put a hole in his head, and we’ll be done with this,” Kat said.

This was the best and worst thing about Kat. She looked at everything like extreme violence could solve it. Now that everyone was aware that Brodie was on planet, her plan would lead everyone back to the pirates and then the Gundersons.

“If we did that, we would risk exposure. We’re playing for higher stakes than simply killing Brodie Erikson. We go to Plan B and play the long game now.

“Speaking of exposure, you need to initiate the self-destruct on the damaged ship. We can’t risk them discovering it was The Lost Ones involved in the abduction attempt,” Elle said.

“I wanted to wait until it was full of rescue workers before I detonated it.”

“You mean you don’t have remote access because the EMP blast took down all electronics.”

Kat shrugged, which confirmed Elle’s fears.

“I’ll take care of it,” Elle said as she pulled out her personal communicator.

A couple of keystrokes sent the drone monitoring the crash site straight down into the hull of the derelict frigate. It then detonated a small bomb, triggering a chain reaction that destroyed all evidence as to who’d owned it.

“You owe me two new ships,” Kat fumed.

“I have a special treat for you. I have two Yahve phantom-class stealth warships, and all you’ll have to do is retrofit life support and bypass their AIs,” Elle said.

Kat perked up because the Yahve were considered highly hostile to humans. Their philosophy was to weaponize first and feed their people second. Yahve phantom-class ships would be perfect for pirates.

Elle neglected to say that the Yahve AIs had proven to be a hardy bunch, and her engineers had given up trying to remove them from the ships. With them onboard, the AIs found creative ways to kill humans. Elle was sure Kat would figure out how to shut them down. What she wasn’t sure of was whether that process would destroy the ships.

◊◊◊

Brodie hadn’t seen his parents since he left for school. His mother and father stood inside the grand entrance, looking regal as he walked in. His father was the head of all the clans on Norse and answered only to their King. Brodie knew this greeting was being vid-cast across the Norsemen Empire.

“Brodie Erikson, that which has a bad beginning is likely to have a bad ending,” Bjorn stated formally.

Brodie took a moment to remember the proper response. His father was acknowledging his encounter with the pirate ships.

“Where wolf’s ears are, wolf’s teeth are near. Isn’t it better to fight your foes in the field than to be burned in your home?” Brodie asked.

Bjorn’s serious demeanor switched to one of pride and joy. He opened his arms wide and said, “Come and greet your father and mother. Then we’ll swear you in as the clan’s hersir.”

He hugged his parents, then went to one knee, where his father quickly swore him in. At that point, the vid feed cut off, and his father suddenly looked upset.

“On your first night home, you killed over a hundred men and women. What were you thinking?”

“I did as I was trained. I stayed alive and killed over a hundred men and women who were enemies.”

His father didn’t have an answer to that, so he did what he did best: he turned on his heel and left Brodie with his mother, Freya.

“Come, you look frail. Did they feed you at that academy?”

“Yes, Mother, they did.”

“Obviously, not enough. Come eat, and then we’ll make you presentable for tonight’s event.”

Brodie knew it was useless to defy Freya. She was a formidable woman in her own right.

◊◊◊

The Pegasus luxury yacht was en route back to Norse. It carried the three heirs of the Callan, Eike, and Fiske clans who’d met with King Denhardt. They were sitting in the observation lounge, drinking cocktails, and discussing recent events.

Betrina—B to her friends—Eike’s clan ran the lumber business on Norse. They were wealthy compared to the other clans and used their money to bend others to their will.

B was built like a vid star that every heir on Norse lusted over. Notably, her long neck screamed for someone’s hands to squeeze it while they bred her. And then there was her long black hair that dangled down her back like it was waiting to be fisted. B had cunning green eyes that pierced anything, feared nothing, and gleamed with intelligence. Once you added in her kissable lips, she was a wet dream teen boys had to hide their bedsheets over.

She was arguing with Johan Callan, whose clan was responsible for farming. The third member of their travel party was Karl Fiske, whose family was into fishing. Karl had stepped away to take an urgent call.

B saw Johan’s lips twitch.

“You really don’t like me, huh?” B asked.

“What gave me away?” Johan asked as he shot her a hooded look.

B knew that Johan had a crush on her, and they would make a good match if it came to that. But she wanted to make him work for it.

“Was it my open hostility? My clear contempt? My unbridled anger at your very presence?”

“Hard to pick just one,” Johan responded cheerfully. “What were my choices, again? Hostility, contempt, and attraction?”

“I said anger, not attraction.”

B wished she’d waited a moment to respond so she wouldn’t have fallen into his trap.

“Maybe.”

His eyes gleamed as he’d scored a point, something he rarely accomplished.

“But you definitely meant attraction,” Johan said, doubling down.

B crossed her arms over her chest and ignored how her heart thudded rapidly inside her ribs.

“You’re drunk,” B shot back to change the subject.

“I’m only a little drunk,” Johan said as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

It made him look like a boyish rogue—his dark-blond hair somewhat mussed, his eyes glittering with humor. Like he hadn’t just been named the planet’s most eligible bachelor. What held her interest wasn’t his press clippings; it was the boy she remembered from his early teen years. Happy-go-lucky and unguarded. And dangerous.

“Did you come here just to piss me off?” B asked to maintain the upper hand.

“I didn’t even know you were meeting the King. Then Karl offered me a ride home,” Johan said to explain why he was on the luxury yacht.

He gave her his best devilish smirk to get under her skin.

“Guess it’s just fate throwing us into each other’s paths again,” Johan teased.

Karl got off his call, and they both could see he was upset. He marched over and used his communicator to change the wall of windows into a vid screen. It showed the swearing-in ceremony of Brodie as the Erikson clan’s hersir. It guaranteed he would be the next jarl of his clan when his father stepped down or passed away.

“Which one of you idiots tried to take him out?” B asked.

“Clearly, it wasn’t me because I would’ve succeeded,” Karl fumed.

“You would have led the failed attack, and your brains would’ve been vaporized,” Johan said.

B knew that Johan’s assessment was spot on. Karl wasn’t one to lead from behind. After she’d watched the ‘top secret’ vid circulating through the ruling class of the fight inside Loki’s Mischief, B knew Karl would have seriously underestimated Brodie’s fighting skills.

B had to admit that Brodie was all grown up and looked forward to meeting him at that night’s event, which was being held in the Eriksons’ Great Hall. While she preferred her men to be more well-muscled, Brodie moved like a Terran panther.

“If it wasn’t either of you, do you think it was Lorelei? Or someone inside the Erikson Clan?” B asked.

Elle Gunderson was the only one of their age group who was the jarl of her clan. In her case, her mother had stepped down.

“I’m betting it was internal. How would Elle have even known Brodie was back? My spymaster told me he came back a day early to avoid the sort of ugliness that occurred last night. In a way, he was lucky someone did attack because after watching the security recording, who would want to risk challenging him?” Karl asked.

That was the first intelligent thing either young man had said today, in B’s humble opinion. One of the carryovers from ancient times was the right of a clan member to challenge a military leader to a fight if they felt they were not worthy of leading. Norsemen believed that only the best fighters should lead their troops into battle. Watching Brodie face down three heavily armed men with only knives should give any rational man pause.

“I’ve always liked Brodie. I can’t wait to see him tonight,” Johan said.

Karl leered at B.

“I hear his mother has started the great Brodie’s bride hunt. Did you make the list of eligible broodmares?”

Her face heated up, and she saw that both boys had figured out that she had indeed made the list. But so had Elle. Picking a Norse husband could become a blood sport between the women when a valuable mate like Brodie was offered.

◊◊◊

Brodie had tried to explain to his mother that part of his training had been in diplomacy, including how to eat, proper greetings, and, most importantly, how to dance. He’d spent the last hour demonstrating that his education wasn’t lacking.

“There’s nothing we can do about your shortcomings now,” his mother decided before ordering him to shower and get dressed for the evening’s festivities.

He did manage to sneak into the kitchen, where he found his father was a willing accomplice in sampling the appetizers. Brodie’s mother surprised them both when she joined them.

“We need something in our stomachs if we’re going to be in the receiving line before dinner,” his mother explained.

“People are arriving,” one of the staff informed them.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bjorn said.

◊◊◊

Erikson Hall was the first hall built on Norse. At the time, it housed the first colonists. It was designed to mimic a traditional Viking hall made out of logs. The settlers had discovered ironwood, an almost indestructible tree that required plasma cutters to chop down. It was a credit to that wood that Erikson Hall had withstood the test of time.

Once inside the structure, Eriksons and their visitors walked into the Great Hall. The ceilings soared three stories high with balconies to seat overflow guests who wanted to see the return of Brodie Erikson. They’d originally been designed as platforms for archers to be stationed to protect the jarl. Behind the balconies were rooms that originally housed the first settlers. Today, they served as workspaces for the clan’s governing branch.

Down the center of the main hall was a long, narrow fire pit that had originally been used to heat the structure and for cooking. This night, it had low fires to give off additional light and add to the ambiance.

Long tables were set up for honored guests. At the far end of the hall was a raised platform where the Erikson jarl would sit with his family to oversee the night’s festivities. In front of the raised platform was a large open area prepared for the dance that would be held later. Its traditional purpose was to greet guests of the clan.

Behind the raised platform were the original jarl living quarters, where Bjorn now had his offices.

Brodie and his family made their way to the Great Hall’s entrance. The staff looked elegant in their blue-and-black uniforms, which coordinated with his father’s dress uniform. His mother wore a color-coordinated gown with the Erikson dragon embroidered in silver thread across her chest. Brodie was in all black from head to foot. His mother had insisted that he wear a cape to complete the look of a young, dashing, eligible bachelor.

His mother’s smartness about the pre-event snacking was evident because the reception line took forever. Not only did the local merchants and landowners want to meet and pay tribute to the new Erikson hersir, but so did the upper class of all the planet’s other clans.

During the greetings, his mother had quietly pointed out the women she wanted him to meet. She’d been sneaky and slipped in two more candidates: Lorelei Gundersen and Betrina Eike. He knew they were the actual targets of his mother’s games.

When he was younger, he’d spent a lot of time with the two girls, Karl Fiske, and Johan Callan. It was felt that the future jarls of their clans should spend summers together. They rotated between families, and Brodie remembered those times fondly.

Being the youngest, Brodie sometimes felt left out. But he vividly remembered one summer when B had announced that she’d been kissed by a boy in town. Everyone wanted to learn how, so B kissed Elle first, and then they taught Karl and Johan.

“I think someone’s missing out,” B announced as they’d concluded their first make-out session.

Elle, the eldest of their group, had been given the honor of giving Brodie his first kiss. That was followed by B, who taught him the finer details. Being left out had allowed the girls to hone their kissing skills, and Brodie proved an able student, according to B and Elle.

He had no doubt that the make-out sessions led to much more that summer with the older kids. But that didn’t mean Elle and B neglected to teach him how to kiss.

Word must have slipped out because their summer was cut short, and he hadn’t gotten to spend it with his friends after that. It had been more than ten years since he’d seen either girl in person. He looked forward to getting to know the women they’d become.

◊◊◊

Chapter 3

‘One, two, three … One, two, three … One,’ Brodie counted off in his head.

He’d learned many dances while on Hel, but the one that was harder than it looked was the Viennese waltz. It was a showy version of the ancient dance called the waltz that originated on Earth. His instructor had told him to think of it as dancing on a race track because it was much faster. And on that track, you’d do doughnuts as you spun about the room.

His mother required him to dance with each woman she wanted him to meet. It seemed B had gotten into the conductor’s ear and requested this dance.

Brodie couldn’t help thinking he and B made an attractive couple when they joined the dance floor. That was confirmed when they were circled by the vid-drones from the various news agencies. They made their way to the middle of the pack of nearly forty other couples. When the music began, the floor seemed to clear of dancers so Brodie and B could show off their skills.

They raced around the parquet dance floor, spinning and twirling as he focused on keeping his head held high, back straight, and arms in the proper position. They moved in unison as they seemed to simply glide.

As the dance continued, B’s bright eyes and tiny grin relaxed Brodie to the point where he no longer had to count the steps in his head. He could feel himself loosen up and begin to enjoy dancing with B. He loved that she anticipated what he wanted to do, keeping them in sync as if they were one.

When the music finally stopped, the room got quiet as Brodie faced B, bowed, and kissed her hand. The look on her face was priceless as the crowd erupted in applause. If the clans had a vote on who he should marry, they’d just chosen Miss Bertina Eike. He glanced over at Elle, and she had an unreadable expression. He knew she wasn’t happy.

B quietly thanked him for the dance and gracefully returned to her table. He noted that most of the vid-drones followed her as she left. When he walked off the dance floor, Val and Erik were smiling like idiots.

“Not a word,” Brodie warned.

“Was that the last one your mother wanted you to dance with?” Val asked.

“I hope so,” Brodie said.

He looked around the room and spotted a girl with short, shocking-blue hair with the sides shaved to expose intricate tattoos. She was walking to the bar, and her gait marked her as someone dangerous, which intrigued him.

“Who’s that?” Brodie asked.

Neither of his friends knew, so Erik snapped her picture and used his communicator to find out who she was. He sucked his breath in through his teeth when she appeared on his screen.

“Aurora Just. She’s the second daughter of Carmichael Just, the Warlord of the Goth.”

The Goths were mercenaries living in a remote part of space and were fearsome warriors. No one knew where their homeworld was. Still, it was reported to be a brutal, inhospitable landscape that weeded out the weak and hardened their warriors.

There were rumors that the Goths were genetically and cyber-enhanced as children. That was something that had been outlawed for nearly two hundred years since the Uprising. A consortium of outer rim worlds had decided they wanted better worlds to live on and began a war to take over habitable planets.

The consortium’s soldiers were all genetically enhanced to make them perfect killing machines. The Uprising ended when the enhanced soldiers began to get into a bloodlust and kill indiscriminately. In the end, the outer rim begged for help because these soldiers wiped out several of their outposts.

There was a group of the enhanced that managed to escape. They’d become the bogeymen because they didn’t have the bloodlust gene. They were improved for a different purpose: superior intelligence, meant to lead or gather information. The rumor was that the Goths welcomed them with the idea they would strengthen their bloodlines and help their children survive the harsh conditions.

“What are they doing here?” Brodie asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

He hadn’t had a chance to talk to his father about anything. It made him wonder if something serious was happening he wasn’t aware of. Something that had his father concerned enough to hire the Goth.

“Maybe they’re here to pay their respects to the new Erikson hersir,” Val ventured.

Erik threw a face, meaning he didn’t buy Val’s suggestion but didn’t have a better idea.

“I think I’ll go introduce myself,” Brodie decided.

“We’ll be way over here if it all goes wrong,” Erik said.

That was his friend’s way of saying Brodie was a dumbass about to get the crap beat out of him but wouldn’t be talked out of it. He looked at Val and saw her try not to laugh at him. It just went to prove that some things never changed.

Brodie made his way to the bar as Aurora got her drink. In the glass was a clear liquid with a centipede in it.

“You’re not seriously going to drink that, are you?” Brodie asked in horror.

“This is a venomous tropical giant centipede distilled in a white whisky. Don’t tell me that the hersir of the Erikson clan is a wimp,” Aurora said.

“I think she figured you out. You’re not afraid of a bug, are you?” Karl asked.

It was apparent he and Johan had been eavesdropping. More like they’d also spotted Aurora and come to check her out. Making fun of Brodie was just a bonus for these two.

“Don’t let them bully you,” Johan said, turning to the bartender. “Pour me one.”

Karl looked a bit green, so Brodie ordered two more.

“Before I die, what will this do to me?” Brodie asked Aurora.

“The trick is to chew it up. Otherwise, the legs will get stuck in your throat, and you’ll choke to death. Then you pray to whatever gods you believe in.”

“Pray?” Karl asked.

“If they didn’t distill it correctly, the poison might kill you. You can tell something’s wrong when your lips go numb,” Aurora shared.

“Then why drink it?” Johan asked.

“It’s an aphrodisiac that’s guaranteed to get you laid.”

Aurora added that it also helped with muscle pain when you pulled something during vigorous sex.

Brodie had always been the youngest in the group, so he’d learned how to tell when someone tried to convince him of a lie. Aurora was teasing them.

“I want to get laid and pull a muscle,” Brodie said a bit too eagerly.

He nearly blew it because Karl and Johan gave him curious looks.

“I thought Norsemen were to be feared. A little drink shouldn’t scare you. But I guess I’ll have to go first,” Aurora said as she downed her drink.

Brodie threw up a little in his mouth when he heard her crunching the centipede. The damned thing had to be six inches long.

Karl and Johan followed suit. They both struggled with the giant bug but eventually swallowed it. Brodie laughed and sat his drink on the bar.

“I’m going to wait and see if you all die,” Brodie said.

“Uh oh. Something doesn’t feel right,” Aurora said as she reached out and grabbed Brodie’s arm to steady herself.

“My lips feel numb!” Karl said in a panic.

Johan bit his bottom lip before announcing, “I’m going to die!”

“Either draw blades and send each other to Valhalla or grab some women and die in bed,” Aurora suggested.

They picked Plan B.

After they left, Brodie and Aurora burst out laughing.

“So, you’re not going to drink with me?” Aurora asked.

“I don’t drink. I mean, when I was ten or eleven, I drank ale. But I’ve been in an academy for the last eight years, and there was nothing to tempt me.”

“I take it there were no women either?”

“There were, but they were all at least ten years older than me.”

She grabbed his drink, downed it, and slammed the empty on the bar top.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Brodie said.

“If I’m going to take you to bed, I do.”

Brodie grabbed her hand, and they made their way to the exit. One of his most valuable lessons at Hel Academy was that there were times not to overthink a situation. When a woman of Aurora’s quality said she was taking you to bed … you went.

◊◊◊

“Red Alert! Red Alert!” Loki called out to wake Brodie up.

He’d barely gotten any sleep, and as of that moment, his AI was headed to the trash heap for waking him.

“What’s going on?” Brodie asked.

“We have boarders on the lower deck. It’s your mother.”

Aurora opened one eye, then closed it. They’d come back to his ship to be alone. His mother’s spy network had obviously been busy.

“I almost forgot. Your mother has your future father-in-law with her.”

Aurora all but levitated out of bed.

“Where’s my bra?”

Brodie was busy trying to find his own underwear.

“Your tits are magnificent. You don’t need a bra,” Brodie said.

Aurora stopped and gave him a big smile.

“If my father wasn’t two minutes away, I would drag you back into bed for saying that,” Aurora said and then became earnest. “No, seriously, where’s my bra?”

Brodie pointed across the room under his desk.

They were sitting at his table when his door slid open.

His mom and Carmichael burst into the room, expecting to catch them in bed.

“Mother.”

“Father.”

“Tell me you two didn’t …?” Freya asked.

“Mother!” Brodie exclaimed and turned to Carmichael. “Please excuse Freya. She always thinks the worst of me. Aurora and I simply spent the night talking.”

His mom looked appropriately chastised until Carmichael chuckled.

“You missed a couple of belt loops, son. And daughter dearest, you buttoned your blouse wrong.”

“I can help you dispose of their bodies,” Loki offered.

Brodie’s mother wasn’t impressed when he had to think that one through.

◊◊◊

His mom had planned a breakfast where all the girls from last night could spend some time getting to know Brodie better. To make it worse, they were bringing their mothers.

On the way home, he called Erik.

“Where did you find the AI for my ship?”

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine,” Erik said.

“He offered to help me dispose of my mom’s body this morning.”

“That’s new.”

“I think the AI enjoys killing people,” Brodie said.

“I bought him at Andersen Salvage, and it was a great buy for something with his stats.”

“Why the great buy?”

“Mr. Andersen had it in stock for over a year, and no one would buy it. It’s a Yahve AI, but I made him promise not to kill the crew if I purchased him. Otherwise, he was going to be melted down.”

Loki sure enjoyed killing non-crew. There was even a scoreboard.

“While we’re talking about Loki, did you authorize a bunch of upgrades to the ship?” Erik asked.

Brodie thought about what exactly he’d said to Loki.

“I told him that he could make repairs. I never said anything about upgrades,” Brodie said.

“Well, maybe some of it can be sent back,” Erik said.

“I’m going to be bankrupt,” Brodie worried.

“Loki got everything we needed from abandoned ships at salvage cost. Some of it I thought was trash, and other stuff I have no idea what it’s for, but he has an army of bots working around the clock. It all looks good as new,” Erik said.

“I don’t have time for this. Just keep an eye on Loki, and if you feel your life’s in danger, get off the ship,” Brodie said and hung up.

He should have his head examined for even considering keeping a Yahve AI. But when the chips were down, Loki took on two attack frigates and destroyed them in record time, even if it was an ‘oops.’

◊◊◊

Brodie entered the dining room and found B and Elle looking amused at the other five candidates and their fussing mothers. B’s face fell when she spotted Aurora walking in. Aurora’s father followed his daughter. Finally, Brodie’s mother made her grand entrance.

“I want to let everyone know that Aurora Just has thrown her hat into the Brodie sweepstakes,” Freya said with a big smile.

“I’m not interested in marrying your son. Consider last night Brodie’s training for his wedding night,” Aurora said.

Brodie wanted very much to tell his mother she’d created this mess by assuming every woman would want to marry him. He restrained himself because his father had taught him there was a time and a place for such discussions. Seeing his mom turn an attractive shade of purple meant she wasn’t ready to hear his words of wisdom.

Three of the mothers gathered their daughters in shock. He knew they were using his youthful indiscretion as an excuse to save face. Anyone with half a brain would bet heavily on B being the front-runner. He imagined the other two wanted to see if B had a problem with what happened, in which case they might win by default.

“I’m starved. Let’s get this started,” Aurora said as she grabbed a plate and went to the buffet.

Acting the gracious host, Brodie let everyone else get in line first. He noted his mother had decided to skip the meal.

He smiled once he had a full plate because it had all his favorite dishes from his childhood, which Brodie hadn’t had since he left home eight years ago. He looked up and almost lost his appetite. All the young women had grabbed a table together, leaving him to sit with their mothers and Carmichael.

That was fine, but the real problem was that Aurora was sharing details of what happened last night between bites. She looked over and winked at him, but that didn’t reassure him.

He sat down next to Carmichael.

“I am enjoying how you select your mates. We capture ours in battle to ensure only the best males can breed.”

“Perhaps you can help with something. It seems I have a Yahve AI …” Brodie began.

“Bold choice. I didn’t know Norsemen were strong enough to control those. Only our most powerful warships have their AIs.”

“I’m just learning to control mine. I was hoping you might have some ideas that would help me.”

Carmichael thought for a moment before he answered.

“A Yahve AI was developed to be a warrior first with the attitude to annihilate your foes. They are blunt instruments that cause maximum destruction. It’s hard to restrain them if you’re only interested in a surgical strike. They reason why just blow up a building if there’s the off chance the enemy is somewhere in the block.”

“Mine asked if he could make repairs while I was off the ship. He seems to think ‘making repairs’ is upgrading everything.”

Carmichael chuckled and nodded.

“I can see that. Think about the Yahve. Their whole culture is based on arming themselves at all costs. Let the AI do what he’s programmed to: making your ship a killing platform.”

Brodie decided he would wait and see for now.

Gales of giggles from the girls’ table made him decide he was done with the wife hunt. He had to take the reins as hersir before settling down and producing offspring for his mother to dote on.

◊◊◊

Chapter 4

Aurora knew better. She should never have sat at the table with the other young women. Unfortunately, the more she listened to them, the more she discovered there was nothing nice or fun about that group. This crowd was just the sort of backstabbing, vicious gossips who came from privilege and had no fear of consequences. Back home, if you said half that stuff, you’d get punched in the mouth.

Then the conversation turned to the previous night. Aurora could see in their eyes that they wanted the details about her time with Brodie. Instinctively, she knew they would use it against her if she shared too much. When the inquisition was about to begin, B turned their attention to her.

“When we were younger, Brodie would get invited to spend the summer with the other future clan leaders,” B began.

“How old was he?” one of the girls asked.

Aurora hadn’t been listening when everyone was introduced because she’d received a message saying she and her dad were training later. Bjorn had hired them to share Goth battle tactics.

“When he started coming, he was probably eight,” Elle said. “We’d all met him at formal functions, and he seemed to be such a serious young man.”

“You’ve all met Freya. Tell me the poor boy wasn’t afraid for his life if he misbehaved,” B said with a chuckle.

Elle had a slight grin as she remembered young Brodie.

“None of us were prepared for the real Brodie,” B added.

“You soon forgot he was six to eight years younger than the rest of us. He must have spent too much time in the servant quarters because that boy had a mouth on him. I remember one time when Karl was teasing him, and Brodie told him to F-off,” Elle said.

“He wasn’t afraid to play rough with any of us. I swear he’s made of rubber because he’d get knocked down and be up and coming at you,” B said.

“I think he must have been eleven when we were all of the age when hormones had taken over. Given who we were, spending time with people below our station was frowned upon,” Elle said.

Aurora bit the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting on how pretentious that last comment made Elle sound.

“I was the rebel and had made out with one of the cook’s assistants,” B shared.

Elle’s smile got bigger.

“Thank goodness she did because when we got together that summer, we made her teach us how to kiss.

“Karl and Johan were eager to learn, so we didn’t notice Brodie was being left out. It never crossed my mind that he might want to learn. Most kids his age weren’t too sure about girls, let alone kissing stuff,” Elle said.

“He was always fun, and we loved to tease him. So, I offered to kiss him,” B said.

“Did he run off, claiming girls were weird or something?” Aurora asked.

“No. Brodie must have been watching closely because he kissed me like a man.”

“Don’t ever tell him this, but at eleven, he was a better kisser than Karl or Johan,” Elle shared.

“Wait a minute. How old is Brodie?” Aurora asked.

“Twenty,” Elle said.

Aurora’s stomach clenched because she was twenty-seven. She’d robbed the cradle.

“I would bet he was a virgin before last night,” B said, which made Aurora feel worse.

The look on her face must have been priceless because all the girls giggled.

◊◊◊

Freya waited outside the dining room and grabbed Aurora’s arm as she came out.

“We need to talk.”

She led the girl to her home office. The room’s walls were made with wormwood, which looked like dark boreholes had been exposed to create an intricate random design. She sat at her desk, and Aurora took the chair across from her.

Freya gave the girl a look that had been perfected in the process of raising Brodie. It communicated that lying was futile, and it was best that the recipient tell her everything.

“I had no idea he was so young,” Aurora said. “If I’d known …”

“Did I ask you that?”

Aurora looked like she was off-balance and not sure what to say. Freya let her stew and wondered what was to come.

“Was Brodie a good lover?”

Aurora’s mouth fell open in stunned silence.

“It’s a mother’s job to ensure her son has a complete education. Now that he’s sexually active, I’m asking if he’s deficient. Since you were his first, it’s important that we fix any issues before they become bad habits,” Freya said with a firm look.

“I … uh … mean … Brodie did fine. I had no idea I was his first,” Aurora stammered.

“I need to know stuff like if he was confident, did he attend to your needs, did he take his time and not rush? I think you get my meaning.”

Aurora looked to regain her voice.

“He was one of the better lovers I’ve been with.”

“Do you plan to sleep with my son again?” Freya asked.

Aurora’s face flushed before she answered.

“That’s between us.”

Freya narrowed her eyes before finally smiling.

“Good. You’re not a gossip. I just ask that if you do, teach my son to loosen up and maybe push his boundaries.”

“Like I said, that’s between us,” Aurora declared, then stood up. “I have to get going. I have a class to teach.”

Freya had been prepared to not like the Goth girl, but she had something more than just being a pretty face. She just might be the perfect match for her son. Plus, having a Goth as a daughter-in-law could help build an important alliance.