Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

“Since I recovered, I have watched you from Hlidskjálf, unable to believe what I saw. Despite ample evidence to the contrary, I saw nothing in you that suggested you were capable of defeating us. But now, seeing you in person, I can perceive your essential nature. You are deceptive.”
    “Frequently,” I admitted. “Hello, by the way. I’m honored to meet you.”
    Odin’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Honor!” he growled. “You cannot speak to me of honor when you have none!”
    Frigg placed a delicate hand on his arm. “Let’s sit down, shall we?” The tension drained from Odin’s shoulders, and his fists unclenched. We all sat, and as wedid so I realized that Odin and I had something in common: We were both under the complete control of the woman sitting next to us. I admired Frigg’s good sense. Sitting down made it much more difficult for Odin to lunge across the table in an attempt to snap my neck. And seating the Morrigan directly across from him would serve as a reminder that, should matters come to blows, she would be the one choosing the slain.
    The waiter appeared, an earnest man intent on regaling us with specials and options he’d been at pains to memorize, but Odin stopped him and spoke in the modern Norwegian language. “We will all take the full six courses,” he said. “If there are options, please leave it as chef’s choice. And please inform the sommelier that we also trust his judgment regarding wines for the remainder of the evening. We have much to discuss and do not wish to be distracted with decisions to make.” A credit card appeared in his hand. “This will assure you that we will pay for whatever you serve.”
    The waiter bowed, took the card, and said, “Very good. I’ll return shortly with the first course, which is crayfish from the fjord and—”
    Odin waved him silent. “We’ll figure it out when we eat it, my good man. Forgive me if I am being rude. I assure you we will tip generously.”
    “Very good,” the waiter repeated, and went away to orchestrate what would no doubt be a very large bill. Odin returned his gaze to me and his language to Old Norse. Before he could enumerate the reasons I deserved to die, I jumped in. I had much to answer for, but I wouldn’t passively accept whatever he wished to say—especially regarding my supposed lack of honor. I like to think I have a smidgen of it, at least.
    “Odin, wise as you are, I am sure you have already noted that I twice held Gungnir in my hands and twice refused to target you personally when I could have doneso. In both cases, I chose to do that which would secure my safety and nothing more. You sit here before me today because I stayed my hand. Twice.”
    “And you think because you spared my life twice that you are honorable?”
    “The entire reason I came to Asgard was to honor my promises. I killed only those who seemed bent on killing me. The Norns tried first but killed Ratatosk instead. Having no choice, I slew them and then went to the hall of Idunn and Bragi. I could have slain them, but I left them alone.”
    “But you stole one of Idunn’s golden apples! Your honor is the honor of a thief.”
    “A thief who keeps his word. You tried to kill me for it shortly thereafter. I could have taken your life. Instead—with great reluctance, I might add—I took Sleipnir’s.”
    “There was no honor in that decision. It was strategically the best course of action, because it occupied the attention of the Valkyries as well. Had you slain me outright, they would have pursued you to avenge me.”
    “Even so, my point remains: I responded with violence only when it was first offered to me.”
    “Ha! What violence from Thor prompted you to bring a party of men and giants to Asgard to slay him?”
    “That is a separate matter. But, again, I was keeping my word.”
    “You promised to kill Thor?”
    “No, I promised to provide transportation to Asgard.”
    “So in your mind you have done us no wrong?”
    “I did not say that, Odin.”
    We paused as the waiter brought out the first course. The crayfish was there, but so was a small trout roulade. I sampled it and discovered that the chef knew what he was doing. If this was to be my last meal, I couldn’t askfor a finer one. None of the gods touched their food. They watched me eat and waited for me to continue.
    “On the contrary,” I continued, “I believe I acted shamefully during that second trip, and I deeply regret what