I turned to Skyla, still sitting at the table before a half-eaten plate of French toast. She stared at me, blinking, her mouth half open. She closed it and swallowed. “You shouldn’t do that to him.”
“Do what?”
“Antagonize him like that. He’s trying to protect you.”
“He can do that and let me fight at the same time. He can’t put me in a padded box, Skyla. I won’t live like that.”
“Even if it means saving the world?”
Well, damn. When she put it that way... At the moment, I was too angry and proud to admit it, especially to Thorin.
“You already said your fire doesn’t have much effect on the golems,” she said. “How do you expect to fight them? How much difference will your being there make?”
I had no answer, nor the patience to find one. Instead, I spun on my heel and stomped toward my room.
“Where are you going?”
“I think I have a swimsuit in my bags somewhere. It’s either do laps or burn down this hotel.”
She gaped at me and glanced at the patio door. “But it’s freezing outside.”
I snorted. “That’s sort of the point.”
Up and down and back again, I swam laps for what felt like hours. The Bellestrella heated its pools year around, but the chilly December temperatures had chased the other guests away. Mist rose from the warm waters, drawn by the cool air, and I probably looked half crazed out there, considering the inhospitable weather, but the cold and the exercise kept my flames under control. Never mind what anyone else thought.
Swimming pools made good therapy, in more ways than one. My frustrations and feelings of helplessness fueled each kick and stroke as I burned through them until serenity and reason returned. The water muffled exterior noises and distractions, and the exercise was mindless routine, allowing me to sink into my thoughts. Only then did I concede the logic of Skyla’s and Thorin’s arguments, although it took several hundred more yards of swimming before I could burn off enough pride to admit it out loud.
No living in cages or padded boxes, no letting others fight my fights, but no unnecessary putting myself in harm’s way, either—especially if it put others at risk. What was so wrong with letting the Valkyries have the golems? Having reassurance of their support was why I’d asked them to come. Skoll was my fight, the one from which I consistently let myself get distracted. Helen’s golems were ultimately another diversion. I needed to let them go and trust others to do their part.
You don’t have to fight every battle, I told myself. Sometimes, it’s okay to delegate.
After I dried off and changed into my street clothes, I went looking for Thorin and found him in the place that made the most sense. He and Amala and several other Valkyries had rearranged the workout equipment in the villa’s private fitness room and made their own training center. Thorin stood in the middle, surrounded by three women. He had tied his hair back, and sweat had left dark rings on his T-shirt. The women prowled around him like hunters considering the best way to take down an angry bear. Golem fighting practice, I presumed, and Thorin was the golem.
I stepped back, watching from the threshold as Amala skipped forward and swung a right cross to Thorin’s chin. At the same time, Siobhan struck for a kidney blow. He dodged both, moving as if water flowed beneath his skin instead of muscle. He was grace and strength—both the hurricane and the calm eye at the center. A thin layer of poise and civility masked his innate savagery, but that wildness burned in his eyes’ dark depths.
He had revealed some of his true nature, his thunder god heritage, in that Portland field when he fought Rolf, but even then, it seemed as though he’d held back. I wondered what it would take for him to utterly drop his cool composure. What devastation could the God of Thunder inflict if his fetters were completely discarded? What could he do if there was no one and nothing, including his own remarkable self-restraint, to hold him back? A tongue of coldness licked down my spine, and I shivered.
Thorin followed through the path of his momentum and jabbed his knuckles at Amala’s ribs. She jumped back, and his strike grazed her. She chuckled and bared her teeth in a wicked grin. Siobhan was not so lucky. He pivoted, kicked out, and swiped Siobhan’s feet from underneath her. She had barely hit the floor when she bounced up, recovered her fighting stance, and grimaced. That fall must have hurt, but she shook it off.
Naomi moved in for an attack, but I interrupted before she struck. “Not to rain on anyone’s parade”—I pointed at Thorin—“but I need to borrow your training dummy for a minute.”
Siobhan snickered. Naomi stepped aside, allowing room for Thorin to pass. The heat of his stare burned on my neck as I led him outside to the patio.
“They can’t fight Helen’s army with fists,” I said after he slid the door shut behind him. “Their knuckles will break long before those golems do.”
He pressed his lips together, folded his arms over his chest, and leaned against a column supporting the porch roof. “They’re just burning off steam.”
I nodded. “There’s a lot of that going around.”
“What do you want, Sunshine?”
“World peace and an end to hunger and poverty.”
He huffed.
“No?” I clucked my tongue. “I can always hope.”
“Is this more of you being flippant because that’s how you cope with stress?”
My eyebrows flickered up. He knows me so well, does he? “Better than a firebomb, amiright?”
“Sunshine…” he rumbled.
“Okay, okay.” I waved off his censure. “This is hard for me. I need a second to work up to it.”
Thorin’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head, clearly interested.
I bit my lip, turned my back to him, and stepped away, moving into our private courtyard’s grassy lawn. “You were right.”
Silence. “I’m sorry. Could you say that again? I think I misunderstood.”
I whirled around and shoved a hand on my hip. “You heard me.”
He bit back a smile, but humor danced in his eyes. “I’d like to hear it again.”
“Don’t press your luck.”
