Page 8

I USED EVERY free moment before Balder’s return to scout the land for an escape.

While I still refused to believe I was in Asgard, the proof was lining up in alarming number.

The sparkling rivers ran bluer than they ought to. The trees dripped with oranges and lemons though we were nowhere near a climate that allowed for such fruits. Not to mention the clouds on the ground, flittering about in whisps along the mountainside as if that were a perfectly normal place for them to be.

And how quickly Balder recovered after taking a knife to the thigh.

Back home, we teetered on the edge of autumn, but here it was firmly in summer, and the heat gathered in sweat on my brow. I wiped it dry as I turned my eyes north. Mountains laid claim to the land as far as I could see, dotted with sweeping valleys and majestic temples, and set with low hanging clouds—sometimes low enough that they hung in the valley and shielded the grass from sight. As the sky darkened from above, flickers of light burst forth from lanterns all through the mountain range.

The most brilliant of lights came from atop one of the mountains, where a gray and white home sat. I didn’t need someone to tell me that was where Odin lived, for no one else could reside over something so beautiful.

It was practically a mountain itself, surrounded by a river of fire and decorated with strands of eucalyptus, with endless balconies and towering pillars, and a grand courtyard leading up to golden front doors.

I’d felt fear before, but the feeling shuddering down my spine was greater. It pulsed through every inch of my body.

If Balder told the truth, I was incredibly close to Odin right now. I should have been searching for a way home, but my eye kept going back to that home. Odin is there.

If this was Asgard, and if these really were gods, then it was all the more reason to escape. Being amongst the gods frightened me more than being amongst kidnappers.

I’d scoped out the perimeter of the temple, which was where I was meant to live apparently. Inside wasn’t much more than the large foyer where I’d awoken and an elegant bedchamber upstairs, laden with dust. One wardrobe held empty hangers and another held spears and axes, one of which I had strapped to my back. It was a beautiful thing, and when I escaped, I was taking it with me.

The inside didn’t interest me as much as the outside. For all my exploration, I couldn’t figure out how we got here.

I let myself run with the assumption that this was Asgard. How would one get in and out of Asgard?

“A hole perhaps?”

I would look for magical looking wells in the morning. Or maybe a gate. In a place such as this, gates were in abundance, and each more decadent than the last.

Speaking of decadent, Balder was coming, and he spared no expense on his transportation.

I heard the clatter of hooves first, likely six horses by the sound. They came down the hill, each brilliant white and strong enough for a chieftain to ride. They were clad in armor—chains of steel and plates of gold all etched with the emblem of a wolf. They drew a chariot behind them, where Balder stood with a smile that broke across his face at my sight, like he half feared I’d be gone.

I wished I were. The second I knew which direction to go, I’d run.

He extended a hand. “Ready?”

“I am.”

I was not. I had no idea what to expect. I’d been promised a small gathering to celebrate my triumphant return, and I was curious to go if only to taste what the gods’ food was like. If it was anything like those grapes, I was in for a treat.

No harm in filling my belly before finding my way out. Then I’d find a new clan, a place where no one knew me, and be free of old loves and confused deities.

I placed my hand in his and let him guide me down the stairs to the foot of his chariot.

Balder carried no weapons, but wore shiny breastplates and bracers like a battle was waiting. It felt symbolic. I felt very much like I was riding into a battle against an unseen foe. Whatever came, I was grateful for the axe on my back.

Balder glanced at it, and I thought he might comment, but he cleared his throat and said, “Is that the dress Frigg left for you?”

I looked down upon the light blue satin slip held up by golden, knotted chords at the top, and sweeping over my toes at the hem. “I certainly didn’t own something like this before,”

I breathed. Training leathers were fun, but this was an elegance I’d never gotten to indulge in before. The very touch of it was enough to remind me I was not in the Fjord Clan any longer. I added it to the list of things I hoped to steal on my way out. The price a dress like this would fetch would keep someone warm and full through winter.

“It suits you,”

Balder said.

Balder was a calming presence to be around. That was saying a lot since he’d stolen me from my homeland last night. Yet I felt no fear standing beside him, only a sense of peace. Perhaps it was that he reminded me of my grandfather, a man who’d passed years ago during a raid, and the whole clan had mourned him. He was built strong like a boar and had a rumbling voice that belonged to a mountain, but his movements were soft and his smiles given freely, and he loved without restraint.

And when Balder had held his hand to me, it felt very much like taking hold of my grandfather’s hand.

But this wasn’t my grandfather. This was a god. The thought sent a shudder down my spine, and I bit my teeth together to keep from shrinking back.

A week ago, I was walking by his altar as families put their faces to the ground to cry out to him for blessings, and now he was at my side in the flesh, and calling me his niece. What a wonderful tale I’d have for the clans.

With a jolt, I realized the clout that would come from this. Tova may be marked by the gods, but I stood amongst them. Soon I’d dine with them, I’d dance with them. Earlier, I soaked in a tub one of them drew for me.

If Trig wanted a wife to lead the clan alongside him, none could argue my qualifications now.

It’s too late. Save your hope for whatever life you’ll build amongst a new clan.

“Everything fine?”

Balder asked.

I snapped back to focus. “Perfectly.”

As we crossed the courtyard, oil burning lampposts flared to life, one after another, with no one to light them. Another mark to prove Balder’s claims. Slowly, my belief was growing.

I allowed him to lead me down the few stairs, to the soft dirt and to his chariot that I admired for a long moment. It was held up by tall, slender wheels, built with arched railings and carved from wood lacquered red. A sturdy shaft connected it to the six horses who stood at attention, waiting for us to step on.

Before I could move forward, Balder paused. “How many blades do you have on you?”

I set my mouth in a firm line. The number of weapons I brought was not something I was willing to compromise on.

His voice came rougher, and he reminded me less of my grandfather now. “How many?”

I stepped onto the chariot to make it clear I planned to go exactly as I was. “If you think about how many you equipped me with from that glorious dresser I found inside, it’s a relatively small number. Hardly note-worthy.”

“Indulge me anyway.”

He wasn’t wavering. I relented. “Including the axe? Six.”

He let out a low whistle. “Goodness, child. You act as if we all plan to murder you. I already told you, we are not savages.”

“From all the stories I was told growing up, that’s exactly what you are. Did you not kill a man once for forgetting to give you thanks after you blessed him?”

His bright eyes squinted before widening. “I’d forgotten that.”

Balder tilted his head, then stepped onto the chariot next to me. He ushered the horses forward. In a whispering tone he said, “Perhaps we are savages after all.”

The chariot moved, but smoother than it ought to. The mountainside was a rocky one, and we should be struggling to keep our grip, but instead it felt as if we were gliding over water. I looked down.

The chariot did not touch the ground, it hovered.

I swallowed. It was getting harder to doubt we were in Asgard.

Just as before, lampposts burst to life as we passed, keeping our way lit as we were carried through the night, where trees cast crooked shadows and the orange flame made the chariot sparkle beneath us. Instinctively, I scoured through the trees for hidden beasts, before remembering where I was. I likely had much more to fear from the man beside me than from anything hiding in the trees.

Just as I suspected, the horses guided us straight north. To the house of Odin.

If I wasn’t convinced before that I was in Asgard, I was now. The horses pulled us between an iron gate, our wheels settling down to meet smooth stone pavement, winding around a stone fountain set with a sculpture of two beings—one of them bearing remarkable similarities to Frigg.

I stared at the other face. That must be Odin.

Though only made of stone, it still awed me. All I could think was how wrong we’d gotten his features in Danmark. We’d depicted him as strong and distant, a fearsome being with the might of the world in his hand. But this being here, he was turned inward toward his wife like she was the only thing that mattered, and stared at her the way we’d always stared at our altars for him.

The chariot came to a stop below a wide, white stairwell lined with silver flame that lit up the night. Beyond that were the looming double doors, then I’d be inside his home. It felt wrong to be even here in his courtyard, so close to Odin. He’d take one look at me and know I didn’t have a drop of deity in my blood, and I’d be tossed from Asgard.

Keep to the back, I instructed myself. Try the food, discover how to leave, and keep your head down.

Keeping our head down wasn’t the Viking way, but I’d be a fool to come at this from any other angle.

Balder stepped down first, and offered me his hand. “The others are eager to meet you. Frigg can’t stop talking about how beautiful her granddaughter is.”

“I’m humbled by her praise,”

I said, and he had no idea how true that was. For the first time, the praise came to me alone. Not to me and all my sisters. Not to Tova alone. Frigg, wife of Odin, praised me. I marked that in the column of wonderful stories I’d bring home when I left, then placed my hand in Balder’s as he led me up the stairwell. Black iron sconces hung at either side of the doors, casting their light over onyx sculptures of two wolves, one on either side, standing at attention. One was crouched in hunting position, while the other sat back and stared forward, its tail wrapped around its feet. Their eyes burned white, and the statues were so lifelike, I had no trouble envisioning them coming to life and snapping at my heels.

Similarly, two onyx knockers were placed on the doors—resembling two large raven heads. Odin’s two spies who watch the world for him, delivering messages and secrets his enemies would prefer to keep unspoken. Those ravens scared me more than his wolves, for they could uncover my secrets.

As I looked, one of the eyes glimmered red.

The air froze in my lungs, but Balder made no remark about either.

“Before we go in there,”

Balder said. He faced me and I felt very much like a mouse standing beneath a lion, but his gaze was tender and his eyes glistened with tears. “I need you to know how sorry I am.”

“For what?”

“For not searching harder. I never should have given up. I should have torn through every hut until I’d found you and brought you home. I will forever be remorseful you were left in that clan without your family and without a way home.”

I was quiet for a moment, for any response tasted like a betrayal to my parents who raised me.

I could hear the love in his voice though, and see it in his eyes as he blinked them dry. I’d longed my entire life to be loved like this, and I hoped to find a way home before he realized he loved the wrong person. I wasn’t his niece. I was nothing to him. He simply didn’t know yet.

For now, he brushed back a strand of my hair. “My sister should be here to see her daughter returned.”

I gave a small smile. “I’m sure my móoir will be found soon.”

“You are right. But tonight, at least we can celebrate that one part of the family is home again.”

Balder reached past the raven knockers to open the door, and it swung inward silently.

Sound filled the large hall, spilling from both sides with a melodious crash. Lyre music, laughter, and the clink of glasses swarmed me. I gave Balder a look. “You told me it’d be a quiet evening.”

He laughed. “This is quiet. You’ll hear much louder parties than this, I assure you.”

Before fear could rise in gooseflesh on my skin, Balder extended his arm for me to take, and I placed a hand over his while bringing the other to feel the outline of the dagger clinging to my thigh beneath the silk, summoning strength from the blade. It was wildly unhelpful. I’d been trained to face Vikings, not gods.

We crossed the long hallway, turned right, and were faced with a domed room full of beings taller and stronger than I, with beauty unmatched by mortals. Before I could prepare myself, Balder declared in a booming voice, “The lost goddess, Ruin, returns!”

Every drink lowered, every conversation stopped, and every face turned our way. Balder chose that moment to drop my hand and stand back, leaving me alone.

I held my shoulders back and tried not to show fear.

Cheers exploded through the room. Frigg’s eye caught mine first, standing near the back of the room dressed in gray and armed with two swords crossed behind her back. She nodded approvingly at me, and tipped her glass ever so slightly. Four others stood around her, all built like boars and covered in hair just as dark as one, clad in the same mix of armor and finery. Behind them was not a wall but an open platform overlooking the valley, bathed in starlight.

My emergency exit was pinpointed.

I raked my eyes over the rest of the room, where none had moved. Jolted, I realized they expected a word from me.

A wide, silver platter sat atop a marble stand, holding tall glasses of red wine. I plucked one, and held it out. “It’s good to be home.”

The gods roared with cheers. I took a sip for courage, and walked into the chaos.

Bony hands reached for mine, wrists dangling with endless gold bracelets that clattered when our fingers met. I looked into the face of a woman much older than me, but she wasn’t merely looking at me, she was staring at me as if absorbing every detail of my looks into her memory and she couldn’t get enough. Her grip was strong. “Welcome back, young one. We’ve missed you so much.”

Before I could respond, she passed my hand to a man who came behind me, and he looked at me the same way—eyes wet with tears like I was the answer to prayers. “It’s so good to have you back,” he said.

It was a simple line, but with how tenderly he’d said it, it could have been the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. Like all of Asgard had been holding its breath, waiting for me.

Imagine that. Waiting for me.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was robbing Astrid of a special homecoming, but it was too late now to do anything other than enjoy it.

Another reached for me, taking my cheek in her cold touch. “You are just as beautiful as your móoir. It’s good to see you home.”

The line was repeated a dozen different ways.

“We’ve missed you.”

“We’re so glad to see you.”

“It’s good to have you home.”

Each one as genuine as the next, and each line warming my heart until it was dangerously buttered up. I’d never been welcomed like this, not even when I was missing in the mountains for two weeks a few years ago and finally stumbled home, half-starved and practically frozen. I was given mulled cider and a heated bath and warned not to wander too far from the beaten down path again.

I could get used to a fond greeting.

But those kind words would quickly turn lethal the moment they found out I was lying to them, and that warning rang through my mind as I slipped my hand away. “Thank you,”

I said politely, stepping back. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Excuse me a moment.”

My feet traced a path along the outer rim of the circular room at a quick enough pace that it appeared I had a destination in mind, while I took the time to take in everyone.

The room consisted of two levels, an upper and a lower, with railings along the upper portion that gods leaned against to look down upon me. I avoided their gazes. One god didn’t stare though, he held a giant leg of meat in his hand while listening to a girl speaking to him. His hair was shaved on the sides, even more than mine, though his was light instead of dark and pulled into a tangled bun at the back. His arms were what captured my attention the most, specifically the unbelievable size of them, and how his head towered by the ceiling.

That must be Thor. It couldn’t be anyone else.

I quivered and moved on.

Now that I’d spotted one familiar god, I searched for others I might know. The woman with long lashes, generous curves, and silky hair had to be Freya. The god of war, Tyre, was on the lower-level speaking with Frigg, easily identified as the only one missing a hand but still possessing enough muscle to take the axe fixated on his side and slice through bone with ease if needed. In the shadows of the pillars, I found a man, younger than many of the others, with thick brows, dark hair, and eyes so light brown that they appeared golden. He watched me from a distance, not bothering to avert his gaze when I stared back. From how he clung to the darkness, I guessed that I was looking at Loki.

A tremor ran down my spine. I knew to beware of Loki, but I hadn’t guessed how handsome he’d be.

I’d just finished a circle through the room when I found one last face, this one made of stone. A statue had been placed near the side of the main level beneath laurel and roses, basking in the moonlight. This one was not of Odin or Frigg, but a young girl with a peaceful expression on her face, slender eyes, a sharp nose, and a bow in her hand.

I took a few steps closer. From the way she’d been placed so prominently in the room, she had to be someone important, but I didn’t recognize the features from any of the mortal statues.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

a deep voice said from behind me.

“Who is she?”

I asked without turning. The speaker stood close enough that I heard as his footsteps landed near mine, and saw his arms cross over his broad chest from the corner of my sight.

“That is you,”

he said. “Or rather, how we’d guessed you would look now. I fear we were unable to capture your beauty properly.”

He was right—my features were nowhere in that girl, and she was better off for it. The girl in the marble had been chiseled by a gracious hand, adorning her with strength and beauty alike, and an expression that told of a gentle heart. She wore a simple tunic and boots, with no weapons to save her, and her hair was left loose. A collection of wildflowers grew at her feet.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“Every five years, we sculpted what you might look like so we never forgot. You have been on our minds for a long time, though I don’t think any are more pleased at your appearance than my wife.”

I looked up to find his blue eyes trained across the room to Frigg. My body chilled. I dropped my knees to the floor and bowed my head, almost spilling the drink still in my hand.

“Odin.”

His laugh was a deep rumble. “It’s been a while since another god bowed before me. I quite like it. Rise, dear one, and give your grandfather a hug.”

So much for hiding from Odin.

I stood, and he wrapped his arms around me.

Frigg called me beautiful. I recited the stories I’d have when I got home. I almost spilled wine on Odin when he hugged me. Loki studied me from the corner, and I watched Thor eat a lamb leg in three bites.

Odin’s white beard tickled my cheek as he held me close enough his breastplate armor dug into my shoulders. Either that, or the sheer closeness to Odin made my breathing pause, and I therefore set a personal record on longest time going without a breath. His hand was at the back of my neck, holding my head close as he dropped his down to cradle mine. His other hand was directly on one of the daggers I’d attached to my back with a string tied around my waist, but he didn’t say anything.

Over his shoulder, Frigg was watching us with a smile, and she wiped a tear from her cheek. My heart tightened. I’d be gone soon, and she’d have to wonder where her granddaughter was again.

When Odin pulled back, he wore a huge smile.

I breathed, but every muscle in my body was flexed, ready for the moment when his smile would drop and he’d sense I held none of the deity that the others in this room did.

Odin bore many of the same features as his son, Balder—the same wide jaw and straight brows, thick head of unruly hair, and wisdom in his eyes like he knew all the answers of the world. But where Balder opted for no weapons, Odin wore all of them, axes strung to his back, swords at his side, and knives at his waist. It’d take all my strength to lift one of those axes, especially since I suspected the head of them to be crafted from gold, but the wolf-shape drawings along the cheek and engravings in the belly of the handle were so stunning, I longed to touch them just once before I left.

“Have you settled in well at the Hitta Haven?”

Balder hadn’t mentioned the name of the place that he’d given me to reside, but the name suited the temple. It was the ideal haven, nestled amongst the tall trees of the mountain, close to the sparkling stream, and lit by a trail of oil lanterns, every bit as tranquil as a haven ought to be. And Hitta—to find—captured their dream for the place. A haven for the girl they hoped to find.

“It’s wonderful. The arrangement of weapons was vast.”

He smiled like it pleased him the weapons fascinated me. “Your parents loved to train the young godlings, so it was only fitting we fill the place with those until they returned. It’s my hope that by the next autumn equinox, your parents are found.”

His attention swung to the statue again, and I wondered if they’d constructed the face to look like my alleged móoir’s.

“I hope so too,”

I lied. “I’d very much like to live with them there. I’d be glad to go to Danmark to search for them, if you showed me the path to get there.”

He didn’t take the bait. “Perhaps we can look together after the Champion Games.”

He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “And you’ve spent too long trapped in that land. I would not so soon send you back to those who captured you.”

It took a moment to piece together that term with the one I was familiar with, but Champion Games had to mean the Beckoning. It was both terrifying and thrilling that I’d be witnessing them from this side, and would finally get to see what took place.

All we knew was once every decade the gods demanded an act of worship in the form of blood. Twenty mortals were chosen and disappeared during the night, but only one returned to us. They’d come back different, harder and edgier than before, with tales of death. But their clan won Odin’s blessing and was rewarded for a decade. It’d been a while since a clan from Danmark won such a thing.

Like a lamb amongst wolves, I’d be here. Watching fellow mortals die while I drank wine from a chalice. I tried to drown the worries with a gulp.

The Champion Games were not my focus. I could do nothing to help those people. I could hardly help myself.

Odin glanced at the statue again, this time with a harder expression as a storm brewed in his eye. The next question formed in my mind, asking how my mortal parents could have reached into Asgard and snatched me away, in hopes the answer led to the path back home, but his stony expression stilled my tongue. Odin looked at the statue of me like one might look at a beast they planned to slay for dinner, and my stomach churned.

“They treated me well there,”

I said quickly. “I was not harmed; I was given food and shelter and a family. I have no hard feelings toward my clan.”

Odin’s expression softened. “You should have been given so much more.”

“Maybe. But they cared for me. I don’t wish any ill to come upon them.”

“They dared to take a goddess from us and hide her for seventeen years. That cannot go unpunished.”

I spoke quickly. It hadn’t occurred to me until now that they’d punish my family. My sisters, my parents—they were all innocent. They would all die at Odin’s hand by the look in his eye. “I’d like to put it behind me.”

I dared to place a hand on his arm. “Please Afi, I wish no ill-deeds done on my behalf.”

Odin studied me for a while—far longer than I was comfortable with, until I was worried he saw beneath my desire to protect my family. Then he gave a small nod. “As you wish. I will call off the plans to slay them all.”

The blood drained from my face. The plans were already in motion. “That would be appreciated.”

He stepped away, then looked back. “If it were up to me, I’d track down everyone in that clan, slit their throats, and feed them to my wolves.”

The hairs on my arms stood up. “No one should be able to hurt my granddaughter and live.”

I swallowed hard. “I assure you, your granddaughter can take care of herself.”

At that, his hardness softened. “I see that. I’m very glad you’re home, Ruin.”

It was far too late to correct my name now. When Odin calls you something, you don’t correct him.

As I watched him walk away, a man of immense power and twice the size a normal man should be, I added another story to my set of tales: I stood before Odin, lied, and survived.