“Thorin?” I asked. “Are you okay?” Though he obviously wasn’t, I didn’t know what else to say.

Thorin looked at me because I spoke to him, but no light of recognition brightened his face. His brow creased, and in a dry and raspy voice, he mumbled something vaguely Germanic sounding before falling silent again.

My insides caved in, and my heart sank to my feet. I looked at Baldur, pleading for reassurance. “Can you help him?”

Baldur shrugged. “He was half buried in a crevasse when I found him. Time and rest are the best medicine. He’ll heal quickly, I promise.” Baldur knelt before Thorin and examined his compatriot. “Mild hypothermia. A strained ACL in his knee, but not torn. A few bruised ribs and a wicked concussion. He should be mostly fine in a day or so. Sore and tender in spots for a while, but back to his old self in no time. Surprisingly good condition, considering.”

Throughout Baldur’s inspection, Thorin remained silent. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes dull and listless.

“Aleksander?” said Baldur. Thorin did not respond. “Magni?”

At that, Thorin looked up, and Baldur spoke to him in the old language. Thorin blinked a few times and stuttered an answer.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He remembers me, but it wasn’t in this place. He doesn’t know where he is. I get the impression he doesn’t know when he is, either.”

Baldur and Thorin conversed again in their ancient tongue. Finally, Thorin nodded and closed his eyes. I almost sobbed but shoved my fist against my lips and turned back to Baldur. The sight of Thorin, defeated and confused, hurt my heart.

“I told him to rest,” Baldur said. “He said he felt there was something he was supposed to be doing, guarding, watching out for. I told him he had been a valiant soldier, but it was time to rest and let us take over for a while.”

Baldur rose to his full height and ran his hands through his hair so the cinnamon strands spiked like a porcupine. “We need to think about going to New Breidablik. It’s a fortress and the safest place to keep you. Helen would hesitate to attack us there.”

“I’m not safe anywhere.”

“That’s somewhat true, but my home is your best bet.”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “How much do you really know about Nina?”

“What do you mean?”

I told Baldur everything, trying my best to repeat, verbatim, my strange conversation with Nina. I kept my eyes covered, too much of a coward to face him as I talked. I didn’t want to see his pain. His heavy steps crossed the room, and the upholstered chair in the corner creaked as it accepted his weight. I finally braved a look and found him slumped over, holding his head in his hands.

“I knew some of it,” Baldur said. “I had a private investigator look into her background as soon as I found her.”

“She’s Helen’s foster daughter, and you thought it was a good idea to put us in the same house together?”

Ever since Rolf had showed up in San Diego, I had been waiting for someone to stab me in the back—if not him, then the Valkyries or Grim—and suddenly, Nina was there, who had all but told me she’d sell me out if it suited her. I’d be damned if I would sit around waiting for her to do just that.

Baldur jerked his head up from his hands and glared at me. “It’s not like I had time to figure out an alternative plan. I can’t leave her alone. I’ve been careful, Solina. I’ve watched her incessantly. She hates me for it, too.”

“Does Thorin know about her?” I glanced at the subject of my query, who stared, empty eyed and vacant, at the fireplace. “I mean before, when you were all in the hospital.”

“I doubt it.”

I doubted it, too. Thorin’s devotion to Baldur ran deep, but cracks had started to show. The surprise about Nina’s provenance might prove the breaking point.

“She’s a pitiful thing, Baldur. She needs lots of care and attention. I think if anyone could help her, it would be you. But you can’t protect me and give her the level of attention she requires at the same time.”

Baldur shrank back. “You can’t ask me to abandon her.”

Utterly frustrated by Baldur’s opacity, I threw up my hands and screeched in frustration. “I don’t want you to abandon her. I want you to take her back to your home and leave me here with Thorin.”

“No, Solina, I can’t—”

I waved my hand and cut him off. “You can’t have it both ways.” I lowered my voice, which had risen to a shout. “And I won’t spend another night under the same roof as her. At this point, she needs you a lot more than I do.”

Baldur’s nostrils flared, and his neck and ears flushed. He sat rigid in the chair and fumed a few more minutes before he stood up and pointed a finger at me. “Fine. You said before that I had used bad judgment. I’ve even admitted it myself. Maybe it’s time I defer to your wisdom.” He sneered at the last word.

Baldur’s pity party burst my self-righteous bubble. Something about seeing the Allfather, leader of an ancient race of superbeings, reduced to a temper tantrum brought me plenty of regret and no satisfaction.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” I said. “No bitterness between us. You helped Thorin save my life, and I am indebted. But you can’t be effective torn in two like this. You said Helen gave Nina back to you because she wanted to see you distracted. If that’s her plan, it’s working. Don’t let Helen win. Help Nina heal. Love her—I don’t think she’s had that.”

“But you’ll be on your own with him.” Baldur motioned to Thorin. “I’m not sure he can be much help to you.”

“It’s my turn to be a help to him. I owe him this.”

Baldur’s chin dropped to his chest, and I knew I had won my argument. “Let me leave you with some cash, at least. You’ll need supplies.”

“Thank you, Allfather.” I crossed the room and pulled Baldur into a hug. “We wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Frigid gusts battered the old Jeep Baldur had found for me. It rocked like a ship in a sea squall. Dense clouds had gathered over Mount Rainier, and snow fell in ungainly clumps. I had a moment to appreciate the serenity before the storm took a deep breath and exhaled. Lacy flakes turned into frozen darts, whipped into whiteout frenzy by fierce winds. Cold air seeped between the seams in the Jeep’s canvas top. I turned up the heater and clutched the steering wheel until my knuckle joints creaked.

By the time I returned to the drive leading to the rental cabin, the snow had covered the path until it appeared as nothing more than a faint indention in an otherwise indistinct landscape. The late-afternoon sun had started to set, casting everything in gloomy shadows. I braved the pathway in four-wheel drive, bumping and jostling until I dead-ended in front of the small log house roofed in tin sheeting. I imagined smoke curling from the stone chimney and decided to start a fire after carrying in the groceries and supplies I had bought in town, including a couple of pairs of jeans, T-shirts—for me and for Thorin—and necessities like toothbrushes and shampoo.

After stowing everything away, I went into the living room and knelt before the fireplace to clean away the old ashes, a chore to divert me from Thorin’s unsettling presence. Before he left, Baldur had explained the situation to Thorin in their ancient language. Thorin assured Baldur he understood, and he promised to stay with me.

As I shoveled ashes into a metal bucket designated for that purpose, I threw a glance over my shoulder. Thorin still sat on the sofa, unmoving and staring at the floor. I blew out a breath, and ashes swirled into the air. I turned to the box of kindling beside the fireplace and stacked them into place.

“You saved my life,” I said, “and I can’t even properly thank you.”

“What?” Thorin asked.

I flinched and turned to face him. “Wait. You understood that?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m a fast healer. I think.”

“Does that mean you recognize me?”

Thorin’s dark gaze slipped over me, but it remained cold and distant. “No. Not yet.”

My heart sank. “At least I won’t have to resort to sign language to communicate with you.”

I rolled onto my feet and went to the door. A hoard of logs was stacked in a shelter on the side of the porch, and my indoor supply needed restocking. Thorin rose and followed me out. He held his arms outstretched before him. I translated his meaning and stacked him with firewood up to his nose.

After dumping his bundle into a crate near the fireplace, Thorin crouched at my side and helped arrange the cold logs on the grating. “Have a light?” he asked.