"Ja," Adriel murmurs, reaching over me to squeeze her round hip. "We are, little seer."

After 2500 years, he’s finally forgiven me. The Gods were destroyed long ago—cut down in the same war that destroyed Alfheim—but I say a silent thanks anyway. He’s here, in my bed, and she’s in my arms. If the human heaven exists, it’s no match for this.

Curiosity glints in Abigail’s eyes. "What happened between you while I was gone?"

“We worked it out between us,” Adriel says, avoiding her gaze. Guilt flickers down the bond between us, and I know what he’s thinking—we found solace in one another while she was in hell.

I feel his shame settle in the pit of my stomach.

Abigail must feel it, too, because she reaches for his hand, twining their fingers together. “Look at me, Adriel,” she demands softly.

He reluctantly lifts his head.

"The two of you are bonded. I will never hold that against you,” she says, conviction ringing in her voice. “I don't feel jealousy when it comes to the two of you. I never have. I’m not angry that you found comfort in one another. I never will be. All I've ever wanted is for the two of you to make peace with each other. If you found your forgiveness in each other’s arms, I’ll thank the Gods that you did.”

She squeezes his hand, her gaze flickering to mine. “You're allowed to desire each other. You're allowed to love each other. You’re allowed to touch each other. I want that for us—for all of us. Our bond isn’t a prison; it’s freedom. I won’t make it one or allow the two of you to make it one, either. Don’t regret what’s between you. I never will.”

Gods. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve a Valkyrie like her or how I could ever possibly deserve one, but she’s perfect. I adore her in ways I can’t even begin to express. There’s a lightness in my heart that’s never been there—a sense of rightness, as if the purity of her soul anchors mine. I know Adriel feels it, too. With the bond singing between us, he’s in less pain than ever.

A blush creeps over her cheeks, her gaze darting from ours before she finds her courage and meets our gazes again. "Besides, I think it's beautiful when the two of you are together."

Adriel's single eye widens in shock, his scar pulling taut over the other. When she smiles at the two of us, I have a feeling my expression matches his.

"I'm a Seer,” she says. “Do you think I haven't seen the two of you together before today?"

"I..." For the first time in centuries, Adriel gapes open, as if this is something he’s never considered.

“Regardless, Valkyrie,” I murmur, cupping her cheek. “We belong to you, and you to us. Unless we’re all together, we won't be.”

“Agreed,” Adriel growls.

Abigail narrows her eyes on us, less pleased with this decision, but it isn’t hers to make. It’s ours, and we’ve already made it. Maybe once, before she came into this world, we could find pleasure in one another’s arms with no thought of anyone else. It’s not like that now.

She is the center of all things.

We are what we are because of her. Without her, there is no bond between us. There never would have been. She belongs in our arms. For us to find pleasure, she must. It’s what the bond demands of us. It’s what we demand of ourselves. She doesn’t have to understand it. Adriel and I do.

What happened between us when she was gone was grief and healing. It was forgiveness and apology. It was me on my knees, admitting to 2500 years of shame. It was him with his back against the wall, releasing 2500 years of pain. And it didn’t feel right to either of us because she wasn’t there.

Without her, nothing feels right.

"War and death aren't the only things I see,” she whispers after a moment. “I don't just see the future, either. I see the past, too." She meets my gaze, her blue eyes swimming with empathy. "I saw the day you thought you lost Adriel." Her gaze flickers to him. "And I saw you in that place, Jotunheim." Her brow creases, sorrow flowing down the bond. "I've seen so much of the grief and pain between the two of you. Even before I met you, I saw it."

Her words pierce my heart, pure fucking misery flowing through me. She’s felt our pain for so long. She’s hurt with us for longer than we even knew.

Faen.

"I’m a coward,” I rasp, shame and guilt boiling through me. “I've fucked up everything. I've hurt both of you over and over. I never meant to do it, but I did it anyway, didn’t I?” My body trembles with the force of the emotion ripping through me. “How am I supposed to forgive myself for what I’ve done to the two of you?”

"By loving us," Abigail whispers, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You forgive yourself by letting yourself love us, Damrion."

“And by letting us love you,” Adriel says, pressing his lips to the back of my neck. “You’re worthy, formaðr.”

I nod, my throat tight with emotion, as their belief in me and their love for me pour down the bond, and I feel for myself just how worthy they both find me. There is no doubt, no shame, and no blame. Adriel has forgiven me. And so has Abigail.

"I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to both of you," I rasp. “I will never let you down again.”

“You never let me down, Damrion.” Abigail flings her arms around me, hugging me tight. “I love you.

I squeeze her to me, pressing a kiss to her brow before she stretches across me, flinging her arms around Adriel. “I love you too,” she says, the same fierceness ringing in her voice.

We clutch her between us, sharing a look over her head.

Gods. She’s extraordinary.

She settles between us, sighing with contentment. We lay there for long moments, simply holding her before I feel compelled to speak again.

“We need to talk about what happened, ást-meer,” I say gently. “You went with them willingly. We need to know why. No more secrets.”

She sighs, tensing in our arms. "I didn't have a choice, Damrion. If I didn't go, you were all going to die trying to save Tori. I saw it. The only way to save you and Adriel—to save everyone—was to let them take me."

A low growl rumbles in Adriel's throat as she confirms what we already guessed—she saw what was going to happen. And she willingly let it.

"Don't be angry with me," she pleads. "You would have done the same to save my life."

"Ja," he agrees, his anger tightly leashed. "But that's our right, Valkyrie.”

“It’s mine too,” she argues.

“Nei. We are sworn warriors of Valhalla, pledged to protect the Valkyrie. You are not. And it's not us they're after. It's you."

"Yes, and I know what's at stake. I know what we're facing. And I know that I need both of you to survive it.” Her voice cracks. “Without you to anchor me, they'll win."

Adriel meets my gaze over her head, lifting her into his arms as he sits up. I sit upright, too, not liking the sound of any of this.

“What do you mean?” he growls, clutching her against his chest as if he expects them to burst through the door and try to tear her from his arms.

"What do they want from you? What do you know, ást-meer?" I ask, cradling her face between my palms, forcing her to look at me. "The time for secrets is long past. You have to trust us with what you know, or we can't protect you."

"I'll tell you," she whispers, fear flickering at the edges of the bond. "But we need to gather the others first. They should hear it, too."

It takes Adriel fifteen minutes to rouse everyone and get them downstairs. They gather at the table, bleary-eyed and exhausted. Stephan is the last one to join us, hurrying through the door, still shoving his arms through the holes of his shirt.

“What’s this about?” Malachi grumbles, scrubbing a hand down his face. I don’t think he’s slept at all. He’s too worried about his Valkyrie.

She didn’t wake at all yesterday. We don’t know the last time she was awake or why they’ve kept her so heavily sedated. Do they have reason to fear her power, or are they just that cruel? Until the drugs wear off and she rejoins the land of the living, we won’t have those answers.