“Hello?” Dad said after the second ring.

“Hey, Dad, it’s me... Solina.” Duh, who else?

His breath whooshed over the airwaves like a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. Baldur has been telling us you’re all right, but we weren’t sure we could believe him. We’re not sure what to believe anymore.”

“I know how you feel. The world has lost its mind, hasn’t it?”

Dad gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “You can say that again.”

“Is Baldur treating you well? You and Mom have everything you need?”

“He’s been an excellent host, but we’d feel a whole lot better if you were here with us.”

“I know, Dad, but it’s not a good idea. There are people, monsters, after me. They’d hurt you to get to me if they could. For now, the farther we stay apart, the better. There’s nowhere safer for you than New Breidablick, but I plan to finish this soon. Then things can go back to normal… or as normal as possible, considering everything that’s happened.”

“What do you mean, finish?”

I scratched my fingernails over my scalp, loosening tangles the windy boat ride had worked into my hair. The kitchen door opened and banged shut, bringing in Thorin and a burst of cold air. I turned around to face him, and he winked at me. “I mean put an end to it. Don’t ask for details because I’m not sure I can give them to you. But I have the God of Thunder and a horde of Valkyries for allies. How awesome is that?”

“I hear the words you’re saying, Solina, but they’re not making any sense. Valkyries? God of Thunder? Do you mean…” My dad lowered his voice to a whisper. “Thor?”

I snickered. “Don’t be silly. Thor’s been dead a long time. I’m talking about his son, Magni.” That’ll make Dad’s head spin for a while. “Look, I have some things I need to do.” I had nothing I needed to do, but I’d make up any excuse to get off the phone and end this familial awkwardness. “Tell Mom I called and I love her.”

“Wait, Solina…”

“Dad, please. I don’t know what else to say. You’re going to have to trust me. I’ll call soon, I promise. Love you, okay?”

My dad sighed again. “Love you, too.”

I flicked my thumb over the END icon and passed the phone to Thorin. “Glad that’s over.”

“You and your parents not getting along?”

I shrugged. “We used to be nearly inseparable.”

He stepped closer. “A lot of things have changed, though. Right?”

I nodded.

“Would you go home? Back to the bakery?”

“How could I go back to the way things used to be, knowing what I know now? But what else do I do?”

“Stay in Alaska.” He had said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, I thought I might have misunderstood. He leaned in, and his next words came out on a ghost of breath, but it was unmistakable. “Stay with me.”

My voice was raspy and broken when I said, “Could there be two less compatible people in the world than you and me?”

His brow furrowed, and his eyes darkened. “We have more in common than you want to admit. All of this trouble with Helen has rocked a boat that has been shored up for a very long time. Ancient magic is stirring and awakening. If there is a way for us, Solina, I will find it.”

His conviction nearly convinced me, but my own self-doubt was no easy thing to defeat. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t be naïve, is all.”

He snorted. “My naiveté has shriveled up and fallen off.”

“I don’t see how it’s possible for us. You don’t age, Thorin. Each day is forever for you.”

His fingers curled around my upper arm and squeezed—his go-to way of dealing with me and his ire at the same time. “Why do you insist on picking fights with me?”

“Why do you insist on ignoring the truth?” I wanted forever with this man. It might have been impossible, but, by God, I wanted it. But want and belief weren’t the same things.

“I make my own truths,” he said, his voice low, tone ominous. “Never doubt that.”

A doorbell rang and shattered the moment. Someone pounded on the front door. We froze in place. “It’s Hugh,” I said. “I-I don’t know how I know, but it’s him. I’m sure.”

Thorin cocked his head like a dog hearing a curious noise. The doorbell rang again. “I’m surprised they waited this long. I honestly expected them to be here from the moment you woke up.” He released me and marched away, heading, I assumed, to let in our feathery friends. “This conversation isn’t over yet,” he threw over his shoulder. “This isn’t an argument you’re going to win.”

The ravens’ presence stirred mixed feelings in me. Hugh’s face brought back instant, harrowing memories, but I was too grateful for his participation in Thorin’s quasi-rescue to deny his right to talk to me, face to face. Joe Muniz, Munin in human form, stood beside his brother in the middle of Thorin’s living room. The pair twitched and blinked and shifted from foot to foot. Their nervousness probably had a lot to do with the ominous presence of the God of Thunder, who glared at them the same way a Secret Service agent stares at an unwelcome visitor at the White House.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you...” I waved in a vague way to suggest he find something else to do—something preferably in another room or outside. Thorin folded his arms over his chest, set his jaw, and stood as rigid as a monolith.

“You look like you’re waiting for an excuse to pluck them and throw them in the stew pot,” I said. “I don’t think they’re going to relax until you give them some space.” Thorin’s nostrils flared, and he pressed his lips together until little white lines appeared at the corners of his mouth. I put a hand to his arm and pleaded. “Just a few minutes. You don’t have to go far. Just.... far enough for them to relax. Please?”

He held my stare as he deliberated. Then he exhaled and nodded. “I’ll go check the crab pots I threw out this morning.” He turned and jabbed a finger at Hugh. “I’ll be back in an instant if anything happens to her, though. Don’t try me, pigeon.” He turned on his heel and stomped off, heading for the front door.

“I don’t know how to break your bonds.” I turned to Hugh. “Except for a nasty headache and some flickering images from time to time, I can’t tell anything is different.”

Hugh’s shoulders slumped. Thorin’s exit had obviously relieved some of his tension. “It’s there. You just don’t know how to sense it yet. Once you do, you’ll find you have access to everything we know and remember. And we know and remember everything.”

“Sounds like a terrible burden.”

He shrugged. “We’ve learned to live with it.”

“How do I sense it?”

“You have to open your mind.”

“And that’s the dangerous part.” Joe’s voice startled me. He so rarely spoke. “Dangerous for you because some minds can’t handle it. Dangerous for us because you might decide you like it and refuse to cut our bonds.”

“I swore to you—“

Hugh waved me off. “It’s a difficult promise to keep when you can’t fully appreciate it.”

“I don’t know how to reassure you. The only thing we can do is move forward.” I gave Hugh a pointed look and shifted my attention to Joe. “I have to trust you to give me the information about the wolf you promised me. I could break this connection between us and never hear from you again. So I guess we’ll just have to trust each other.”

I set my hands on my hips and furrowed my brow. “Now, how does this ‘opening my mind’ thing work? I don’t have to spin in circles or inhale paint vapors, do I?”

Joe gave a hesitant smile. I smiled back.

Hugh crossed the space between us and gestured for me to sit on the floor. As I sank into a cross-legged position, he knelt beside me. “Close your eyes. Clear your thoughts. Have you ever tried meditating before? It would be helpful if you knew how.”