“Did you dream of electric sheep?” I asked.

Her brow crinkled. “What? No.”

“Good. I guess that means you’re not an android.”

She grimaced. “What happened?”

“Rockslide got you, I think.”

She pressed a tentative hand to her chest and gritted her teeth. “I’ll say.”

She moved to sit up but grimaced and wheezed. I pushed her down. “Nope. You’re not doing anything else until you get checked out by a doctor. Don’t take chances with internal injuries.”

“But my sisters—”

“Have it under control.” I interrupted her protest. “Thorin and the others are taking them down by the dozens. The fight will be over in no time.”

Embla exhaled, relaxed, and closed her eyes. “Any other casualties?”

“Probably some black eyes, bloody noses, maybe a cracked rib or two. But it’s winding down again. Thorin and Skyla made pea gravel out of those things.” I narrowed my eyes at her and studied her face—the one that reflected elements of both Nina and Skyla in bone structure, coloring, and shape. Could she really be their betrayer? How could anyone harbor that much hatred, enough to abandon their family? “Embla, I need to ask you something.”

Before I could form my question, my ears popped, and Thorin appeared at my side. I glanced up at him, expecting to find him triumphant and exultant. Instead, he wore a grim expression, and something dark flashed in his eyes. My breath caught. “What is it?”

“Baldur. He’s found the rest of Helen’s army.”

My words turned to ice as they crossed my tongue. “Where are they?”

He held his hand out as if asking for a hug, and I forgot all about my questions for Embla as I leapt to my feet and latched my arms around his neck, ready to go wherever he wanted to take us—New Breidablick, I presumed.

Skyla, having caught on to the change in mood and tone, jogged up and stopped at Thorin’s side.

In a voice filled with imperative, he said, “Bring the Valkyries to New Breidablick as quickly as you can. Baldur is under attack as we speak.”

My parents. I had thought they’d be safe in Baldur’s estate. Instead, I had moved them into the hottest part of the fire.

“It’ll take hours to get there.” Skyla’s eyes went wide and fearful. “We may be too late.”

“Whatever it takes, whatever the cost...” Thorin pulled me closer. “Just do it.”

“Embla needs a hospital,” I said the moment before Thorin whisked me into the æther.

Skyla nodded, knelt, and reached for her aunt.

Chapter 21

Thorin and I alighted on the patio at the rear of Baldur’s house. He kept me locked in his arms as he settled his heavy gaze on me. Copper flecks swirled in his dark eyes. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and dark clouds blew in on stiff winds. If I had to guess, the God of Thunder was gearing up for battle. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” he said. “But if I’ve learned anything in all my years, it’s to take nothing for granted.”

“What are you worried about?” I shrugged off his sudden gravity. “You’re immortal.”

His fingers curled around my shoulders. “My immortality isn’t the problem.”

I pursed my lips. “No, it’s my vulnerability, right?”

The muscles around his eyes tightened. “There was a war like this before. I underestimated the toll it would take. The destruction and loss devastated those of us who survived. The one thing I regret most was never taking the time to tell them...” He closed his eyes and cleared this throat. “I shunned the prophecies. I thought nothing was strong enough to defeat the Aesir. I walked out of my home the morning of the final battle, assuming, at the end of the day, my house would still be standing, and my family would still be there, alive. I thought I would have more time.”

A hard knot rose in my throat. How much had I regretted taking Mani for granted? How much had I hated not telling him, one last time, how much I loved him? But I had gotten that second chance, there at the Norns’ well. I had told Mani goodbye. It wasn’t as good as having him back, but for the first time since his death, I had peace and closure. For thousands of years, Thorin had lived never having those things. How had he managed?

“You have to decide every day if it’s worth it or not,” he had said.

If anyone had ever lived up to his own words…

I cleared my throat and met his ancient, bottomless stare. “What would you have done differently?”

“I would have still gone to battle because that was my purpose, but I would have lingered. I would have taken Joren in my lap and told him all the reasons I was proud to be his papa. I would have stayed up through the night with Eir, telling her, showing her, how much I loved her. Instead, I patted Joren’s head, kissed Eir’s cheek, and I walked out the door.”

I leaned in and rested my temple against Thorin’s chest. His heart thumped under my ear—a muscle that had beat, impossibly, for millennia. How was it I could be standing here, like this, with a being like him? How could he think I was worthy of him?

He stroked my back. His deep voice rumbled through me. “I won’t have those regrets again, Solina. I won’t make the same mistakes. Whatever happens next, I won’t go into it knowing that I never took a moment to tell you that I love you.”

Gasping, I pulled away and gaped at him. My heart strained like a newborn moth fighting to escape its cocoon. I drew in a long, deep breath, expanding my lungs near to bursting. “No. You can’t.” My logical side refused to accept it, but the moth beat against my sternum, testing its wings, eager to fly.

Thorin’s expression darkened. “I am the God of Thunder, strongest among all of my kind.” A twisted smile played across his lips. “I can do anything I please. But you…” He took my hand and curled it into a fist, all except my pinkie. He traced a tickling, winding circle from my knuckle to the tip of my nail. “You have me wrapped around your little finger.”

I shook my head. “Not possible.”

He smiled again, a little brighter this time. He took my chin, tilted my head back, and pressed his lips to mine. “Did you hear what I said?” he asked after he kissed me thoroughly enough to make my head spin.

I swallowed. “I-I heard you.”

“But you don’t believe me?”

My voice had mostly deserted me, so I whispered. “Shouldn’t.”

He drew me into the circle of his arms. “Why not?”

“Dangerous.”

Skimming the tip of his nose along the rim of my ear, he said, “You’re right. It’s more than bones and bodies we’re risking. Injuries of the heart are so much more grievous.”

“How can it work? We’re so different.” I had asked the same question before, but this time, my words lacked conviction.

“Do you trust me, Sunshine?” He had asked that before, too.

I bit my bottom lip, hard. I nodded. Of course I trusted him—trusted him to my grave. That was the problem.

“Do you believe me when I say we’ll find a way?”

“Damn me, but I do. But I’m also afraid of what it might cost us.”