He looked up and arched an eyebrow, questioning my non sequitur.

“Val didn’t have time to speak the last word, but who’s to say someone else couldn’t finish what he started?”

Thorin scowled. “Someone would have to have his same, specific intent, which is highly unlikely. You, me, and the ravens are the only ones who know what Val was planning.” His lips spread into a suggestive grin. “There are ways you could turn me into your personal, slavering beast, Solina, but you wouldn’t have to use magic runes to do it.”

Fire erupted in my cheeks. I glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. Despite my aversion to the furs, I tugged the bedcovers over my legs and relished the instant warmth. “You don’t believe in heating and air conditioning? This place is an ice box.” I rubbed my arms for emphasis.

Thorin chuckled and stood. “I haven’t been here in weeks. It’ll take some time for the house to come back to life.” He crossed the room, crouched before the fireplace, and tossed in another log.

Mindlessly, I stroked the fur coverings and took in the details of the room, the stone fireplace, the oak paneling, the plain, heavy furniture. “Is this your room?”

Still crouched before the fireplace, feeding more wood to the flames, Thorin glanced back at me and nodded. “It is.”

I patted the mattress. “Why the big fancy bed for a guy who rarely sleeps?”

He cleared his throat. “Beds can be useful for other things.”

A blush erupted on my cheeks, and I quickly changed the subject. “How long have we been here?”

“Half a day. It’s almost dawn, but it’s Alaska, and it’s winter, so the nights are long.”

It made sense. He probably lived somewhere close to Siqiniq and his sporting goods store. “Where’s Grim?”

“New Breidablick.”

“Oh? I had gotten the impression he preferred to avoid Baldur. And that maybe the feeling was mutual.”

“Grim didn’t have much say in the matter. He wasn’t in a state to argue, and one thing about Baldur is he’ll never turn away anyone in need. His grace is infinite. Always has been.”

“I’m starting to appreciate that fact. Grim won’t be a threat to my parents’ safety, will he?”

Thorin shook his head. “As soon as he’s well enough, he’ll leave. He promised me.”

“And you believe him?”

“My brother might be a bastard, but his word is good.” The fire popped, crackled, and threw dancing shadows over the room. He used a poker to readjust several logs before tossing another piece of wood on the stack. The silence thickened, and it seemed as though he had something to say but was hesitant, which was unlike him. Finally, he cleared his throat and turned to face me. “It’s bad enough you keep running headlong toward death, Solina. But you keep convincing Baldur to give you a ride so you can get there faster.”

I blanched, and my stomach rolled over. “Don’t go there. Not yet. I don’t want to fight with you.” And I don’t want to think about what happened in the cave any more than I have to right now. Or ever, maybe.

Thorin rose and moved to my side. He crouched beside me and took one of my hands in his. “We both know I want to lock you up in a box, but I’ve come to accept you’ll never be that kind of woman. I think I wouldn’t respect you if you were.” He grinned and rolled his eyes. “I might relax and breathe a little easier if you were. My life would be a hell of a lot easier if you were...”

I squeezed his hand. “But it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun, right?”

“Fun? Is that what you call this?”

“I call it living. And for a lot of years, I wasn’t doing that. I was just getting by. This is the most alive I’ve ever been.”

“This is the closest to death you’ve ever been, too.”

“Funny how those seem to go hand in hand.”

“Yeah. Funny,” he deadpanned.

I shrugged and changed the subject again. “Skyla and the Valkyries? Have you heard anything?”

His lips thinned. “Socked in. Too much fog and a bad storm in the area. They’re camped out in a little town called King Salmon, waiting for it to clear up enough for them to catch a flight out.”

My heart and my head cared more about Skyla’s fate than my stomach did. It let loose an angry, empty rumble. Thorin chuckled and rose up to his full height. “I stocked the refrigerator for you.”

“More gourmet staples?” I threw off the covers again. The roaring fire had chased away the chill and brought a coziness to the room. Still, I preferred not to parade around Thorin’s house in nothing but an oversized T-shirt. I turned, set my feet on the floor, and leaned forward, preparing to stand. “I’ve lost count of the number of times—” A bolt of white-hot pain sheared through my head, stealing my vision in a blinding burst of light. Then came a litany of scrambled images, like an old-fashioned newsreel on fast forward.

What is this? My visions don’t usually work this way.

Thorin caught me as I groaned and sank to my knees. “What is it?”

“A-A headache.” Another wave of heat and light washed over me. My stomach revolted. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Hold on.” He scooped me up. I clamped my eyes shut and breathed through the pain as he carried me from the warm bedroom into a cold, echoing space. “Is this okay? The bathroom’s the first place I could think of.”

My stomach turned over again, and I gagged. “Put me down, and leave me alone for a second, okay?”

“Sunshine,” he said, nagging.

“Let me save my dignity as much as possible.”

“I don’t care—”

“Well, I do.”

He hesitated, but he set me down on a cold tile floor. I pried open one eye, spotted a sparkling white commode, and said a little prayer of thanks as I knelt before it and prepared myself for the worst. He opened a small closet in the corner and pulled out a plush white towel that must have been woven by angels from fibers made of clouds. He shook it out and handed it to me. “The floor has got to be freezing.”

I arranged the towel under my knees as another cramp twisted my stomach. “Go, please. I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be outside if you need me.”

For a reply, I leaned over the toilet and retched as another torrent of fire burned through my skull. More images flashed before my eyes, random and lasting only an instant before fading away. I heaved and heaved and must have coughed up a lung and most of my intestines in the process, but, eventually, the cramps subsided, leaving me weak and shaky.

The headache eased, not disappearing, but diminishing to a bearable throb. I rolled off my knees, leaned against the cabinet beneath the sink, and panted. When my muscles stopped trembling, I worked my way onto my feet, leaned over the sink, and turned the cold water on full blast. I splashed my face, washed out my mouth, and drank until the acid burn in my throat faded.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked the woman staring at me in the mirror over the sink. Straggly haired and sallow skinned, my reflection shrugged limply and said, “Could be something to do with your fire. Could be something to do with the ravens...” I shoved that thought aside to deal with later. For now, I needed normalcy. And food.

A huge robe made from the same heavenly material as Thorin’s towels hung from a hook on the bathroom door. I slid it on and cinched the belt around my hips. The hem dragged on the floor like the train of the ugliest wedding gown ever, but it blocked the cold air and trapped in my body heat, so... Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

When I opened the door, Thorin waited for me on the other side, holding a giant mug of coffee. A host of seraphim sang a song of heavenly praise in his name. “Please say that’s for me,” I said.

“Of course.”

I grabbed the mug and gulped.