So, rather than questions, I offered reassurance. “It won’t be your time. You’ll beat Rolf. No question.”

Only when I said it did I comprehend my absolute lack of doubt and total confidence in Thorin’s success. I wanted Rolf and Thorin to finish the fight, sooner than later, to end the annoyance of waiting. I wanted the sword in our hands, under our control, and anticipation had generated butterflies in my stomach, but that feeling was nothing more than Christmas Eve jitters, the excitement of inevitable reward. No fear tainted the undercurrents of my anxiousness.

Thorin stopped pacing before me and canted his head in a curious way. “You’re so confident?”

I eased off the couch, stood up before him, and met his stare. “You’re the God of Thunder; the son of Thor, the strongest of the Aesir; immortal; impervious. When you’re at my side, there is no doubt, no fear of failure. My belief in our enemies’ defeat is certain. My faith in you is absolute.”

Outside, the thunder rumbled, sudden and unexpected. The cabin shuddered, rocked by the percussion of sound waves. Thorin stepped closer. “Say it again.”

“Say what?” I backed away from him. The thunder rumbled again, softer.

“Your faith in me. Say it again.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you know? Belief makes us stronger.”

Fire burned in my cheeks, and I looked away. “Words mean nothing. Faith, if it hath no works, is dead.” I had memorized that one in Sunday school as a child.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue,” Thorin quoted in reply—Proverbs, if I had to guess. “Say it, Solina. Please.”

No, not this. Anything but his big brown eyes, staring into mine, all but begging. “Please” really was a magic word—it conquered my resistance.

I squared my shoulders, raised my chin, took a deep breath, and said, “I, Solina Mundy, Daughter of Sol and sun goddess incarnate, have absolute faith in you, Magni Aleksander, Son of Thor and God of Thunder.” I leaned forward and jabbed a finger in his chest. “But I’ll choke if you make me say it again.”

Thorin threw back his head and laughed, and the thunder laughed too, rattling windowpanes. He stood too close, and too much electricity hummed in the air—the literal kind and the metaphorical. If he touched me, I would be a goner. I moved away from him, putting the sofa between us.

“Where are you going, Sunshine?” Thorin asked, still grinning at me. A soft, ephemeral glow exuded from his skin, emphasizing his beauty.

Give a guy a compliment and it goes straight to his… um… divine essence.

“I can’t stand this waiting around. I know I’m never going to be able to sleep. I saw some snowshoes in the closet in my room. How about we take a walk, or is that too mundane for a supernatural being who can blip through space?”

Thorin chuckled again. “No, not mundane. It’ll make for a good distraction. Let’s go.”

I was wrong. On top of a night of inadequate sleep and a near-death experience, the two-hour trek in freezing temperatures through knee-deep snow was, in fact, enough to exhaust me. Warm and drowsy before the fireplace, a half-drunk glass of wine in hand, I passed out remarkably soon, but I awoke to Thorin lifting me, carrying me to my room.

“No,” I protested. “You don’t have to—”

“Quiet. You’ve had enough sleeping on that couch.”

“What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“How much longer?”

“I’ll leave soon. I’d like to get there before sunup so I have some time to study the terrain.”

My heart sank. Even though I’d professed my faith in him a few hours before, the idea of letting Thorin go fight Rolf on his own did not sit well with me.

“When’s Baldur coming back?” I asked.

Thorin eased me onto the bed and drew up the covers. “He said dawn.”

“I don’t like it.”

Thorin grunted. “Neither do I.”

Thorin leaned down, and his fingers swept around my neck. A familiar weight settled on my sternum.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He took off his bracelets and torc and placed them on the nightstand next to my bed. “Can’t bring it with me. You’ll have to hold onto it for a while. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

I stroked a finger over Mjölnir’s warm surface. “Promise me?”

“Promise you what?”

“Promise you’ll come back.”

“I’ll swear to come back if you make a promise to me in return.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t try to come after me. Don’t interfere with this fight. It’s not just the sword at stake. It’s for your own safety, too. Promise you’ll stay away.”

Could he see me roll my eyes in the dark? “Even if I wanted to, how could I? It’s not like I can just blip through space like you and Baldur.”

“If you want something badly enough, Sunshine, you’ll find a way.”

True, that. I had never been an outright liar, but I could be… evasive when necessary. “If you know me as well as you say you do, then you know that isn’t a promise I want to make or keep.”

“Sunshine,” Thorin said, his voice low and foreboding.

“I promise to stay out of your way.” Whether Thorin could see it or not, I put three fingers to my brow in a Boy Scout salute. “I promise that, when you leave, I won’t go with you.”

But nobody said anything about going later. Any attempt to subvert Thorin’s orders depended on the vulnerability of Baldur’s sympathy. Manipulative? Yes. Did I care if it meant ensuring Rolf’s defeat and securing our possession of the sword? Not so much.

“There’s a lot of wiggle room in that promise,” Thorin said.

“Take it or leave it. It’s the only one I’m going to give.”

Thorin groaned. “I ought to tie you up and put you back in that ice cave.”

“You could. But you won’t because if you did something like that, then there is one promise I would make you, and I would keep it.”