“They have?” I turn to her. Thoughts swirl in my mind. When did this change happen? Leaving has always been damn near impossible.
Envy twists in my gut. What would it feel like to have choice? The alpha males of the family protect and guide.
When I lost my father, I missed out on that natural protection. I wonder what they bargained with our Alpha to gain his approval.
“Alpha tries to keep it as quiet as possible, but we all notice.”
“This is worse than I expected. What do the others think of my return?” How can I help people who don’t trust me?
“They’re confused and the Alpha is calling in all of those he can.”
“For what?”
The Volva shakes her head. Everything about this feels gross. Remembering how they’d taken me down, trussed me up, and drug me back here with no regard boils the blood in my veins.
“Women of the pack are afraid for their daughters.”
What could possibly free them from their commitment to tradition?
“There’ve been whispers of matchmaking returning.”
The barbaric practice places couples together according to the Alpha’s will. “There have been a couple of
pairings that I suspect were the product of this. Much older men from prominent families and women half their age.”
“They’re buying themselves brides to reproduce? It’s sickening. If they want my help, this will stop now.” They’ve grown too impatient to wait for women to find mates. Now they want to arrange them like a fucked-up reality dating show.
Here eyes sparkle with mirth. “You’re going to turn everything upside down, aren’t you?”
“By Fenrir’s chains, I hope so.” I can’t ignore the anger exploding inside me.
I tried to stay out of things and live my life separately. Circumstance returned me here. Perhaps there’s a reason for that. If I want to fight and win, I need to plan.
“What else can you tell me?”
I gather the information like a squirrel stocking up for the winter. This is my sword and shield. They caught me unaware once; I won’t let it happen again.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Ylva.” One of the three voices I’ve longed to hear echoes around me.
I turn and find myself in the hallway of our home. I’m dreaming, this dwelling burned
down years ago.
“Ylva.” The warm alto comes from somewhere nearby.
“Papa?” I whirl and walk toward the top of the landing.
A black and white plaid nightgown with gold thread bells out around me. It’s the last family pajama I’d ever worn.
I didn’t know how much I needed this until right now. It’s been so long since I remembered them so clearly. Eager, I increase my speed, ready to see the faces memory has blurred.
“This way.” I pound down the wooden stairs in my red satin ballerina slippers.
My hand brushes the garland wound around the banister with white twinkling lights. Mom always went all out for the holidays.
The moment November first rolled around; we transformed our home into a winter wonderland. I stop at the bottom.
An ornate crystal chandelier sways above my head, throwing strange patterns across the high vaulted white ceilings. Family paintings of our ancestors hang on the wall, looking out over us.
“Papa?” I call for him.
“This way.” The voice comes from the kitchen.
I pass through the open pocket doors into the dining room. The long table is set for dinner.
Thick wooden chairs with cushions in a sage green contrast with the dark wall paper covered with birds. I enter the kitchen. It’s empty. No one’s here.
Spirits plummeting, I fight back the tears burning my eyes. It’s going to be one of those dreams.
“I don’t understand.”
“Here.” His voice comes from somewhere beneath me.
A knock comes from the wooden floor under my feet, startling me
“Are you in the basement?” I ask.
