“I’m not saying you have. I want to get a look for myself.”

She waved him off. “Knock yourself out.”

Thorin disappeared. I tossed my coat over a kitchen chair and opened the refrigerator. A very welcome pizza box sat on a middle shelf. I pulled it out, popped open the lid, and studied the contents: pepperoni, sausage, mushroom. Then I rifled through the cabinets until I found a big skillet. After setting it on the stove and turning a flame on low beneath it, I slid in two pizza slices to warm.

“Stovetop?” Skyla said, glancing at my pizza. “Who does it like that? Just nuke it.”

“Microwaving makes the crust chewy. Warm it in the skillet, and the crust stays crisp without overcooking the toppings.”

She shrugged. “Guess you would know.”

“It is my job. Or it was...”

“Why are you here?” she asked, apropos of nothing. I gasped and inhaled a bit of phlegm. Skyla pounded my back until I cleared my airway. “Didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t expect you to show up on the front porch, out of the blue.”

I focused on pizza and shoved one slice into a different position. Then I shoved it back. “Skoll’s on Amchitka,” I said, almost a whisper.

“And how do you know this?”

“The ravens told me.”

“And why did they tell you—Oh. Val.”

I shifted my pizza around the pan again, mostly to keep from looking at Skyla. “Yes, Val.”

“So, you...”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Aw, shit,” Skyla muttered and said nothing more, but her questions, her request for the rest of the story, hung in the air between us.

“It was a trap for Thorin. I had to save him. It was the only way.”

“You don’t have to justify it to me. You know how I felt about Val. But I know how you felt about him, too. I know it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“I didn’t have much choice.” I recounted the story in a dry and quick summary—the facts and nothing more.

Skyla followed me to the kitchen table after I plucked my pizza from the pan and dropped the slices on a paper plate she had handed me. “Do you think Val’s plan would have worked? Do you think Thorin would have turned?”

“Seemed like it was working.” I remembered the way Thorin clawed at his chest, how he had dropped Mjölnir, the agony on his face. “It’s not like I wanted to call Val’s bluff.”

“Knowing Val, he wasn’t bluffing.”

“No.” I bit into the pizza, and hot cheese stuck to the roof of my mouth. It brought up an instant blister. I barely noticed. “He wasn’t.”

“Killing the wolf will be worth it in the end.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself.”

“You don’t believe it yet, do you?”

I shook my head.

Skyla reached across the kitchen table and covered my hand. “I didn’t make it out of the Marines without knowing what it felt like to take another person’s life. I’m still not proud of it, but I’ve learned to live with it. It had to be done.”

“How long did it take you? How long before every breath stopped hurting?” I gestured to the half-eaten pizza. “How long before you could eat without feeling guilty?”

“It’s different for everyone. It wasn’t so hard for me, being around others who had stood in my shoes, done the same things I had done, made the same choices. It helped knowing I wasn’t alone.” She patted my hand and pulled away. “You aren’t alone, either.”

“I know.” I poked at a crumble of sausage that had rolled to the edge of my plate. “And I’m grateful for it. I am. It just might be a while before I can show it.”

Her lips curled into a half smile, and she jerked her chin toward the doorway. “C’mon. We moved things around on the back porch. There’s room for sparring. You know what you need right now? A way to let off some steam. Let’s get in some fight practice and get you warmed up for Skoll.” She pointed at my discarded dinner. “Might help you get your appetite back.”

I pushed my plate aside and rose to my feet. “Guess it couldn’t hurt.”

I followed Skyla down a hallway to a door leading to a glassed-in porch shrouded by darkness. She flicked on a light and strode to the middle of the room. A wicker couch stood on its side in one corner, and a couple of chairs balanced on top of a coffee table in another, leaving an area just wide enough for two women to practice hand-to-hand techniques.

“No fire.” Skyla rolled her head on her neck. She tugged off her sweater and threw it into a corner, leaving her in a T-shirt.

I followed her lead and stripped down to my tank top. She prowled, making a wide circle. I spun, keeping her before me, and lowered my center of gravity. “I won’t use my fire. It’s still a little on the fritz after... well, you know.”

She paused, and her brow furrowed. “You’re going to face the wolf without the full use of your powers?”

“I’m not completely bankrupt. And given the way the weather’s behaving, I might get a few more days of recuperation before I have to face him.”

“You’re taking a big risk, girlfriend.”

“Then you’d better make sure I’m ready.” I leapt and struck.

Skyla barked a sharp sound of surprise and countered, blocking my attack. Without losing momentum, she brought her fist up, aiming for my chin. I turned, and her knuckles kissed my cheek. She chuckled. “Good move, Mundy, but you’re going to have to be faster than that.”

I widened my stance and turned my body, giving her my shoulder. She bounced on her toes and grinned. Her eyes flashed, so did her fist. I leaned back, avoiding her strike. Skyla reset, drawing herself in like a tightly coiled spring. “You gotta be more offensive.”

“I’m just warming up,” I said, already breathing hard, adrenaline spiking my heart rate. “I’m a little rusty.”

“Rusty? You move like a broken-down old Cadillac.”

I returned her toothy grin. “Oh yeah?”

“Like a grandma in need of a hip replacement.”

I laughed and darted right. When she moved to follow me, I twisted through my hips and hurled a right cross into her ribs. She turned and stepped back, and my fist grazed her T-shirt. “Ooh,” she said and rolled her shoulders. “Do I feel a breeze?”

Jab, jab, left cross, I went on the attack, not because Skyla had baited me, but because I enjoyed it, because the harder I punched, the faster I swung, the more my conscious thoughts slid away. My body and instincts took over, and emotions disappeared. Sweat pooled between my breasts and rolled along the valley of my spine. Strands of hair escaped my ponytail and stuck to my forehead and neck. Blood roared in my ears. Breath whooshed in my chest.

It was glorious.

Sometimes, I landed a blow. Sometimes Skyla did. We held back, pulled our punches, but the shock of each hit still sent shivers of pain and delight rolling over me. I embraced punishment, both the giving and the receiving. We fought until my breath came in pants and wheezes. I might have driven myself to hyperventilation if Embla hadn’t arrived and called a time-out.