Page 27 of Delinquent Dette
Leo.As if it weren’t obvious.
Sile swore in Mandarin and they fussed at one another for a moment. “Ayaaaa, Zhaidan!”
Their word for Dette wasegg hermit, which Sten found endlessly amusing.
Stupid Shijun!Sten lost track of what was being said the moment Shui started insinuating that he would be the one mounting Sile if he got half a chance. And honestly? Good for him.
“We start at dusk. Feel free to come over.” Sten moved his thumb to hang up and earned a cough of rebut. “There something else? I can forget I heard all the commotion of Shui fucking you?”
“No, no, no. Tell everyone. I like people thinking I have adventurous sex quite often, but that is not why I called. It is a little more complex. Fjallarr Nidhogg showed up this morning and is finishing his paperwork. He petitioned to see his great grandson—as well as his son.” Sile coughed again as Sten’s heart skipped a beat.
“Which son? Frikka has no father, so it cannot be Jarl Fjallarr.” Sten snorted and gave Frikka a sidelong glance.
“Let him come. He can see my beautiful pups all grown, my yard full of rare nestblossoms, my horny geese, and my mountain of grandchildren.” Frikka flopped back into the grass and closed his eyes.
“I heard that. What is he on? Is Marc feeding him drugs?” Sile’s comment earned a snort from Frikka. Dragon hearing was no joke. He might as well have had his phone on speaker.
“Nestblossoms are wonderful. That oil Hallr refined has made me quite calm. There is nothing the jarl can do to me here. His words cannot sting. I have my mate, my pups, a beautiful home. My mate is wealthy and my family seats a council.” Frikka rolled onto his front and scooted up, resting his head in Sten’s lap. “He may come, but nothing will stop me from running with the Drakes once more.”
“You heard him?” Sten stroked over Frikka’s fair hair.
“I heard him. Just make sure he doesn’t have anything sharp…or blunt. Or poisonous.” Sile grumbled as Frikka brightened. “Or electrical! For fuck’s sake, that was so hard to explain to the Brazilian consulate.”
Frikka wilted, brow furrowing. “What about—”
“No! I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking of. Do not murder the jarl,” Sile growled on the other end.
Sten eyed Frikka as Sile muttered in the background about the Drake thatallegedlycommitted fatal autoerotic toaster asphyxiation after stabbing himself two hundred and eighty-six times with a broken mead bottle.
“Two-hundred andninety-four,” Frikka corrected.
Sten pursed his lips. Personally, he’d have lost count.
“Look, my due diligence is done. I warned you. Goodbye.” Sile slammed his phone down, swore, and then hung up, likely forgetting you couldn’t slam a phone receiver down with a cellphone. Sten missed that.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later, but it wasn’t Jarl Fjallarr. Hallr pushed his way in right after, welcome to trespass into their home. Sitting on his hip was a little imperious child with a smattering of freckles and a mess of strawberry-blond hair. “I know you guys are having the sex-run thing soon, but I was told to show up here with Luka.”
Hallr waved a hand as he marched through and found Torsten, who was still glaring at Willy. “Here, take your nephew.”
Torsten took Luka. They stared at one another with equal contempt. “You’re not going to do a poo on me, are you?”
“No. I know how to use a potty.” Luka rolled his eyes.
“Good. Why am I holding you?”
“I don’t want to see Grandfar Fjallarr and if he puts me down, I run as fast as I can.” Luka sniffed and rubbed at his pink nose.
“You’re a smart boy.” Torsten nodded.
“Not fast enough, though.” He pouted, and Hallr gave him a stern look.
Frikka sat up, running fingers through his mane of hair, a grin stretching wide across his face. “Do not worry, little one. He probably wants to invite you to be Nidhogg once more.”
“But I don’t want to be Nidhogg. I’m Nielsen!” Luka reached his hands out, and Frikka swaggered by to take him from Torsten. He didn’t put him down, though.
“I made that decision a long time ago, little one. I was Nidhogg, but I chose Nielsen. Our Dettes were freer than most, but as a jarl’s son, I was kept as property.” Frikka gave Luka a hug. “I chose to be free, and your grandpa Sten stole me away. We made the long trip with your father and uncles while they were still just eggs.”
Luka listened, eyes wide. “Why did you leave? You could have stayed and been a free Nielsen.”
