Page 38 of Worse Fates

Vidar scoffs. “I know, I saw.”

The cloud passes and cold light fills the space once again. “What do you mean?” I ask, dropping my hand and turning to face him.

Vidar pauses, then says, “You loved them all, I know. But were you never bothered when Francisco tested your relationship by flirting with others? Or Tristan's foul moodswhen he couldn’t paint? Or the fact Samuel spent more time ashamed of loving another man, than happy with you?”

Glaring, I take a step forward. “Everyone has faults if you lay it out like that. Would you like me to list yours?” I spit.

There is a coughing hacking sound, and for a moment I worry Vidar’s on death’s door. But with a start I realise he’s…laughing.

“We’d be here all night if you did. The love you shared with each of your mates was beautiful. But they were still people, Luc, as you are still a man.” Vidar pauses. “This new mate of yours, what's he like?”

An image of Golden blushing when I caught his jealousy flashes in my mind. “Sweet,” I tell him, not able to contain my smile. “He felt bad when he realised you were a man, and not some ghoul.”

Vidar raises an eyebrow in question.

“I know, I was surprised, too.” My heart lifts as I speak of him. “But bless him, he said you needed help. And you couldn’t help the way you looked.”

Vidar snorts. “Don’t remind me of my appearance.”

“Is that why all your mirrors are broken?”

Vidar waves a hand to keep the conversation on track. “Your mate.”

I want to push the issue, but I haven’t seen Vidar this active in so long I decide against it. “He’s curious, sensitive, funny, but he’s been through a lot.”

“And you had a fight,” Vidar points out, smirking.

“I’m glad to see someone’s enjoying my misery.”

Another hacking laugh. “Misery does love company.”

Despite the topic at hand, I find myself offering him a quick smile. “Golden thinks I don’t know him, so how can I love him?” I dismiss the idea with a scoff. “It’s ridiculous.”

“His name is Golden?” he asks, deep voice raspy.

“That it is.”

Vidar’s bones crack as he stretches out in the tub. “Your mate, Golden, has a point.”

I groan. “Not you, too.”

Vidar grins, and behind his sharp teeth and bloodless lips, I spot the old, charming, Norsemen. For a time we stay silent as we watch grey clouds travel across the star spotted sky, the air clean with the scent of wet soil.

“When you said I lose myself in my mates,” I begin, “what did you mean?”

“I think I explained myself already.”

I incline my head at my Maker, encouraging him to say more.

He releases a weary sigh. “I meant I understood that a mate comes first, even above family.”

I linger on his words, think back to when I met my first mate, and the mess I was after losing him. “I always thought you made Rurik because you wanted me to have a companion after Francisco.”

Vidar lifts one half-hearted shoulder.

Inspecting Vidar, I’m thrown back to the past; he found me in Spain while on the run with my brother from an angry husband, more than one, if I’m to be truthful. Back then Sen, Vidar’s first offspring, travelled with him and they both found my predicament funny.

I’d been penniless, homeless and without prospect; so of course I’d laughed with the two at my own misfortune.