Page 19

I TRIED NOT to think of how easily Odin could kill me. I tried not to think of how sharp his wolves’ teeth were, or how daring it was to force an audience with him.

I tried extra hard not to think of all the stories we’d been told of how mercilessly Odin dealt with those who angered him—like twigs snapped between his fingers.

I failed miserably.

But it was not all I thought about as I trekked up the highest mountain toward Odin’s home. I also thought of Tova, and that kept my steps steady.

Eventually, I reached the city just as the sun set behind the mountains. The city was unlike place I’d ever seen, with walls constructed of open stone and streets of glittering silver. This town wasn’t built into the mountain—it was the mountain. The roads were wide, the homes generously sized with golden balconies, high windows, and oil lamps placed every few feet, setting the city aglow.

My calves roared with the climb. Last time I took this path, I’d been in a chariot with Balder and too nervous to examine the city. Now, I stepped over a ridge and looked back.

So this was Asgard.

I could be grateful now for where Hitta Haven was stationed, on the southern side of the city where things were quiet.

Tall towers reached through the clouds, each of solid gold, and all connected by a fortified wall with silk banners hanging from glossy windows scattered throughout. It broke for a large gate, opening into the city, with chains along it that sent a clear message—once shut, no one would cross. It’d be shut for the Champion Games, no doubt. Sealing all the mortals in the city between this wall and the glistening sea. My eyes wandered that way, to the clear water stretching to the sky until I couldn’t tell where one began and the other one ended.

The einherjar were here. Resurrected Viking warriors. Would they fight if I called upon them, or did they only do Odin’s bidding?

Feet trembling, I approached one of the doors, and knocked.

When no one answered I knocked again. No one knocked back home, but something about this palace—perhaps the chains near the doors—told me this was not a place you walked into freely. Yet, when no one answered a third time, I twisted the handle and stuck my head inside.

A corridor—tall as a tree and wide as a ship—stretched before me. It was empty.

I slipped inside, and ventured into the heart of the home.

I wandered aimlessly at first, until noticing things appeared nicer the further I went. Fires danced in hearths, wools stretched on stone floors, plates gleamed with gold finishing. Still, no voices.

That was, until I pushed through double doors, and found myself looking at a vast room as large as the fjord.

“Wow.”

The word escaped breathlessly.

A chandelier lit the room, catching on high columns and dancing to the furthest corners. An elegant stairwell wrapped along the back, leading to a second-floor balcony that stretched the entire length of three walls. I’d have taken in more details, but a figure caught my attention, standing with a wolfskin thrown over his shoulders and familiar broadswords on his back.

Odin turned, but his gaze didn’t find me.

He didn’t look pleased, staring at the ground with low brows. That was what kept me from stepping forward, and a moment later, I was extremely grateful for my hesitation.

“You say a mortal boy found his way into Asgard?”

There was anger there that confirmed what I knew before—gods didn’t care for mortals in Asgard.

“I let him in,”

Balder replied. I swung my eyes to find him, standing plainly before Odin as the larger man paced.

Balder was letting in a record number of mortals to this sacred city.

“You think that is wise?”

Odin asked. From his tone, he didn’t.

Balder ran a hand through his hair—the first sign he was at unease. “The boy is young, but his clan depends on him. They depended on her as well. And they have always been loyal to us.”

“So bless their crops,”

Odin replied. He’d stopped pacing now, but his arms were crossed.

“Will you see him?”

After a long pause, Odin nodded.

Balder moved to a set of doors and opened them.

Trig—the boy who broke my heart, claimed my sister’s love—was somehow there with his head held high and his steps certain as he came into the presence of Odin.

My first instinct was that this was a trap. A test of my loyalty. A trick of my eyes. Surely not real.

But as I blinked, the image didn’t go away. It came closer, and it bore a face I knew well.

Those eyes had always captivated me, bright even in the dark of night, as if the sun shone through the warm brown tones. They were fixed straight ahead. Unwavering. That’s how I knew he was nervous, because when at ease, Trig would take in his whole surroundings. He was like Tova in that way—always taking in every inch of the world except when they were nervous, when they would fixate on the thing concerning them. Right now, his gaze fixed on Odin. Rightfully so. And thankfully so, because he didn’t see me.

The skin beneath his eyes was sunken, and I let my gaze slip to his body. He’d lost weight. Time had been unkind to him in other ways as it pulled at the tangles of his hair and lived in the wrinkles of his clothes. That strong jaw was set as always, and his beard had grown more so it’d hide the nervous tick of his chin.

Trig had always been my sunshine on a rainy day, with his blond locks wild like the fjord. He was the fresh water from the spring and the first rain of spring, drowning me in the gentle embrace. I’d relied on him and his affection to give me meaning.

Now, looking at him, I felt cold. It didn’t light the fire inside me like it once did. Only stroked the embers, sending sparks through my body that reminded my muscles what it felt like to be held by him. Testing to see if they longed for that again.

It wasn’t love swarming through me. More like a hollow pain that burned to the bone.

My feet traced a slow line backward until my shoulders hit a wall, then a hand slid into mine. My eyes snapped to my left. Frigg had come from the shadows, with a finger to her lips to be quiet. Her eyes were sorrowful, like she knew what pain this would bring up in me.

“I’m sorry,”

she whispered. “I was on my way to tell you he was here.”

I didn’t ask how she knew where to find me. She was a goddess. But none of that mattered right now.

Trig was here. He was in danger.

Odin unclipped his red cloak with slow movements, so Trig would be forced to see the strength of his arms as they were unveiled, and watch how the muscles rippled as he folded the cloak like he had nowhere better to be, but I suspected it was Odin biding his time until he knew how to address this. Beside me, Frigg was as silent as I was, both of us lurking in the shadows to see what would happen next.

Odin pulled himself to full height and looked down upon Trig. “Balder tells me you threaten to ravage the mountainside if I do not return Tova to you?”

Odin said evenly.

It shouldn’t have taken so long to piece that together, but the shock clouded my mind. Now I sorted it.

Trig came for Tova.

Trig stood only five paces from Odin, and not once did he quiver. I’d always thought he was built like a god, but being amongst them showed his weaknesses. Still, he appeared unfazed as he spoke to Odin as if this were his home.

“You have my bride, and I’m here to get her back.”

Odin regarded him like a passing trouble he didn’t wish to give much thought to. “If she were your bride, she would not have been taken,”

Odin corrected him. “She was unmarried when we selected her.”

“Barely,”

Trig argued, as if there could be some gray area there. “We were pledged together. I wear her braid.”

As he said it, I saw the dark braid he’d woven into his hair. Odin raked his eyes over it, unimpressed.

“That means nothing here. She will fight, as it is our right to demand it.”

The first crack came from his voice as he put an arm over his chest. “I beg you.”

My heart stopped.

Trig wasn’t whimpering. He wasn’t on his knees. But those words weren’t ones that came easily from his lips.

He continued. “She is my entire world, and I can’t let her die. I am willing to fight to get her back.”

“No,”

I whispered. I started forward. Trig was a good fighter, but Tova stood the better chance. If he faced the champions, he’d die for certain.

Frigg held me back. “This is not your fight.”

“I can’t let him die in the arena.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what he wants.”

I frowned, then watched as Trig put a hand at his waist where Balder had bravely allowed him to keep a weapon. I realized what Trig meant.

Oh no.

He was not asking to fight in the arena with the other champions. He was here to fight Odin to get Tova back.

Like an arrow, something cold rushed through me. Trig hadn’t been willing to argue with his faoir for me. He was willing to face Odin for Tova.

I slunk back against the wall. He really did love her. The realization was both heart-wrenching and reviving. As much as I’d wanted him to be, Trig was never meant to be mine. He was always hers.

I had mourned him for the past week, but my desperate heart hadn’t fully let go. Now it could. My next breath drew in sharply, as if reaching inside to snatch up all the lingering feelings for him. With my exhale, I felt them being drawn out. Slowly untangling the pieces of us until I was freed.

Odin’s cold laugh bit the air. My attention snapped back to him. “You want to fight me?”

The fear in Trig’s eyes said no, but his lips said differently. “For Tova? Anything.”

Odin didn’t laugh this time, but he studied Trig with a watchful eye. He stepped closer until he had to drop his head to look down at Trig. “No,”

Odin replied. Trig wavered at the word. “I will not fight you.”

Odin brushed by, and Trig bravely grabbed his sleeve. Both Frigg and I took in a sharp breath. As if knowing I was about to move, Frigg held my arm.

When Odin turned to look at Trig, his gaze traveled to the side. Right to us. He held my eye for a few moments before dropping it.

“You should let go.”

His voice was a lethal growl.

Thankfully, Trig did. But he didn’t move. From the side, Balder’s hand was braced on his sword, and his weight was shifted forward as if ready to move at the drop of a pin.

“I cannot leave without her,”

Trig pleaded. “Please Odin, I need my wife.”

Odin set his tone low. “If you fight me, you will die. And I will not do that to her.”

“To her?”

Trig’s brow lowered, and he took a step back. “Why do you care about Tova?”

Odin was already retreating. “It is not Tova I speak of, but my granddaughter. I will not hurt Ruin.”

“Ruin?”

Odin was still walking away, but Balder had spotted us, and it was his eye that led Trig’s to mine. He froze, then crumpled to his knees. “Rune, please. Save Tova.”

I was a statue under his eye, but my thoughts swirled. There was no ‘what are you doing here?’ Or ‘why does Odin call you his granddaughter?’ Both the obvious questions. Followed by many more. But he had one thought on his mind and it swallowed all others. Save Tova.

It was a thought I knew well. That was why I was here.

I found the strength to move, following after Odin. “I’ll do what I can,”

I said. And I left before he could say anything else.