Chapter Thirty-two
The afternoon wore on, and Baldur and Thorin tired of their fighting. After promising to come back before dawn, Baldur returned to New Breidablik to tend to Nina, leaving Thorin and me alone together for another night.
“Is it my fault?” I sat next to Thorin on the sofa and nibbled on a grilled-cheese sandwich and a pile of apple slices—late lunch or early supper, depending on interpretation.
The sunlight had dimmed in the living-room window, and in another hour or two, night would fall upon us again. Only a few hours left before this cataclysmic event. Only a few more hours until Thorin fights for his life, not that we haven’t all been fighting for our lives, one way or another, ever since Mani died.
“Is what your fault?” Thorin asked and swiped an apple slice from my plate and popped it into his mouth.
Look, he does eat. Will wonders never cease? “This confrontation with Rolf. If I had listened to you in Corvallis and not confronted Grim on my own, chased him down at his house… Maybe none of this would be happening.”
Thorin shrugged. “Maybe, if you had waited for me, Grim wouldn’t have been able to abduct you. Maybe we could have taken the sword from him together. But speculation is pointless. It is what it is, and we’ll deal with it. Besides, I get the feeling this was all rather inevitable. If you hadn’t noticed, our kind are enthralled to fate. We might be gods, but even we must bow before the command of providence. There’s no getting around it.”
“So, you’re saying this fight with Rolf is a consequence of fate?”
Thorin rose from the sofa and paced before the fireplace. “I’ve been thinking about it, over and over. Going back to the start, to when you first encountered Rolf in San Diego, you said you felt like he let you go on purpose, and you wondered why.”
“Yes.” Where’s he going with this?
“It’s like he wanted to scare you into coming out of hiding. Like he wanted you to come back to me.”
“Why? It’s not like he knew I would find the sword.”
“Maybe he did know.”
“How?”
Thorin gestured to me. “‘How’ asks the woman who dreams about the future.”
I gaped at him. “You think he had a premonition?”
“Whatever the reason, I propose that this was the result he wanted all along.”
“How could anyone orchestrate all that we’ve been through?”
Thorin shook his head. “Not orchestrate, Sunshine. Just push and nudge when necessary, wait and watch when it’s not.”
“All to get the sword and challenge you to a duel? Why wait all this time? Why not just stab you in the back?”
“There’s no honor in that.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Honor in revenge?”
“What is revenge but courage to call in our honor’s debts?”
“Your words?”
“No, but only because I couldn’t say it any better myself. Perhaps Rolf’s been seeking an opportunity for a long time.” Thorin turned and crouched before the fireplace. He picked up the poker and stirred the embers. The logs popped and crackled, and the fire revived. “Maybe Helen’s plan provided an opportunity that never existed before. I have a feeling Rolf’s secrets aren’t the only ones that will be coming to light in the days ahead. Before all is said and done, many more skeletons will be coming out of many more closets.”
“I don’t have any skeletons in my closet.”
Thorin bit his lip and turned away.
“Ah, but you do.” I set my empty plate on the lamp table and tucked my sock feet up beneath me. “Of course you do. You’re thousands of years old. You don’t live that long without having some regrets, right?”
“More than you could imagine. And if it’s my time to pay for them, maybe I’ll have to.”
The desire to ask about his skeletons swelled in my tongue until I thought I’d choke on it. I bit my lip instead and swallowed my questions. I know him well enough. He’ll tell me if I need to know. Trust in that and respect his privacy in the meantime.
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.
