I stretched out on the cold floor and lay there until my toes turned blue and my teeth chattered. Then I pushed myself onto my knees, stripped, and turned on the shower to the hottest setting. Thorin must have installed a tankless water heater, because I stood under the spray, waiting for the hot water to run out, but it never did.

What was I trying to wash away? My shame? My guilt? The memory of the look on Val’s face in the moments before he surrendered to me? But of course, the shower could never cleanse me in the way I so desperately wanted. Maybe nothing ever would.

If anyone could prove me wrong, though, it would be Thorin.

After thoroughly waterlogging myself, I shut off the shower, wrapped up in towels, and paced the length of the bathroom. I might have happily lived the rest of my life in that room, if no one interfered, but I could always trust Thorin to do precisely that. I didn’t argue or fight when he pushed open the bathroom door, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out. But I did play opossum, refusing to respond to his questions or pleas.

He didn’t fall for my “play dead” routine, and he spared me no pity, either. He set me on my feet before the blazing fireplace in his bedroom. When I tried to sink onto the floor, he jerked me up. “Hold still. You’re going to freeze to death if you don’t get some clothes on. Your skin feels like ice.”

We both knew it would take a lot more than a cold bathroom to freeze me to death, but I refrained from stating such a needless observation. He wanted to take care of me. I sort of wanted to let him.

He pulled the towel from my hair and rubbed the damp strands. I accepted it all in numb silence. He dug into my luggage and found underwear, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a loose pair of yoga pants. He shoved them toward me. “Put these on.”

I took the clothes and waited for him to turn his back before I dropped my towel, not that it mattered. He had seen my bare flesh more than once. At this point in my life, who hadn’t?

Thorin turned around, sensing I had finished dressing, and pulled my hand, leading me to the bed. I sat, and he made a brush appear from nowhere—but probably his back pocket—and worked on the tangles and snarls in my hair. His nimble fingers felt like magic. “You needed time for physical recovery, and I had hoped you keep you here, safe, until your fire was fully renewed. But it leaves you alone with too much time to think, too much time to wallow, when what you need is an occupation, something to keep your mind and body busy.”

I started to speak, but my voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I guess you speak from experience.”

“You know I do.”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. The gesture served as a physical metaphor, symbolizing the release of my most bitter emotions. I suspected it was only a temporary remedy. I needed time to heal, and as Thorin suggested, I needed a distraction to keep me occupied until then. “I happen to agree.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh? Do you have something in mind already?”

“The ravens kept their end of the bargain.”

He blinked, obviously confounded, but then his expression cleared, and his eyes narrowed. “Skoll. You know where the wolf is.”

I bobbed my head. My brief connections to the ravens had shown me many things—maybe too many things—but I focused on the most useful facts. “I’ll give you one guess.”

He furrowed his brow and scratched his jaw. Finally, he said, “Amchitka.”

“Give the gentlemen his prize,” I said, imitating a carnival barker.

“Helen wouldn’t go far from her golems, not since she lost Nate. Someone has to control them, and not many people are gifted with her necromantic abilities.”

“Good.” I stood and brushed the wrinkles from my shirt. “We’re agreed.”

“Say the word, Sunshine. We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

“You don’t want me to stay here? Or go back to New Breidablick where I’d be safe and sound?”

He gave me a sardonic look. “Would you?”

I snorted. “You know me better. Those golems might not be my fight, but that wolf certainly is.”

“I could get to Amchitka and finish him off before you could say, ‘boo.’”

“You could.” I nodded. “But you won’t. You respect me more than that.”

He pulled a theatrical grimace. “You’ll make me regret saying that, won’t you?”

I stepped forward and slipped my arms around his neck. “No. I’ll make you worship me.”

His chuckle reverberated through his chest as he circled his arms around me. “I already do.”

A blush lit my cheeks, but I played it off. “Take me to New Breidablick, Jeeves. I’ve got to get my parka and winter boots. From the look of it in my visions, Amchitka is cold.”

“Jeeves?”

“It’s my chauffeur name for you. Better than, ‘Ya mule!’ right?”

Thorin’s only reply was a snort.

My ears popped, and we were gone again.

Chapter 19

Returning to New Breidablick meant facing my parents again, which I had meant to avoid as long as possible. A couple of days was not long enough to come to terms with the person I had become, not long enough to sort out the things I had done and how I felt about them. I wanted nothing more than to blip in, grab my winter clothes, and blip out, taking the Aesir Airways to Amchitka as fast as possible. Instead, Thorin and I touched down in Baldur’s living room directly in front of my parents, blocking their view of the football game blaring on the flat screen.

No avoiding them now.

My mom gasped and pressed her hand over her heart. My dad rose to his feet, wobbled, and sat down again, spilling popcorn from the bowl he clutched to his chest like a shield. “We’re never going to get used to this,” he said breathlessly. “I’m too old to believe in magic.”

“Hey, Dad.” I waved at him lamely. “Mom.” I nodded in her direction. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” She flapped a hand at me. “That’s all you can say?”

“Um... how’s it going?”

“Solina,” she said in a nagging tone. How many times had I heard her say my name that way? Too many to remember.

“I don’t think y’all have ever formally met.” I gestured between Thorin and my parents. Am I really about to introduce the God of Thunder to my parents like we’re on a first date or something? “Magni Alexander Thorin, this is my mom and dad, Rachael and Tim Mundy.”

Thorin stood in his most formal stance and bowed from the neck. “It’s an honor to meet you both.”

“Mom and Dad, meet the God of Thunder.”

My mom’s face flushed, and my dad gawked at us as he rose and tugged my mom to her feet. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

I nudged my elbow into Thorin’s ribs. “Show him your hammer. Dad, you’re going to flip when you see his hammer.” My glib performance was an act, a shield to keep Mom and Dad from seeing the real me. Outside, I smiled. Inside, I burned coldly.

Thorin bit back a grin as he fished through his pocket. He presented his fist, twisted his wrist, and Mjölnir in all its majesty appeared as if he had pulled the most astounding rabbit from the most miraculous hat. Thunder clapped outside Baldur’s living room window, and a streak of lightning rent the early-evening sky.

“Good Lord,” my dad said. Mom squeaked and dropped into her seat.

“I know you still have questions,” I said, “and I promise I’ll answer them, but not right now. I came by to pick up some things. Thorin and I have some... hunting to do. If we’re successful, all of this craziness will be over very soon.”