He grinned, and a new light shone in his eyes. “When have you let the fear of the unknown stop you?”

It had stopped me for twenty-five years. Then I climbed aboard a plane and flew to Alaska. That had changed everything. “No regrets?” I said as if toeing a pool of frigid water while contemplating jumping in—knowing I was going to jump in.

Thorin’s grin widened. “No regrets.”

Here goes nothing. I exhaled a long hopeful breath, and at the end, while I still had the air for it, I said, “I love you, too.”

“We can do this.”

I dared to meet his eyes, and the look in them nearly stole my breath again. I swallowed and bobbed my head. “Yes. I think we can.”

Chapter 22

So, yeah.

I had admitted, out loud, to the immortal and otherworldly God of Thunder that I loved him, but only after he’d said it first, which might have been even more... amazing? Ridiculous? Absurd? Breathtaking? I was still processing the unlikelihood of my situation when Baldur stepped onto the patio to greet us. He was scatterbrained sometimes and obsessed with Nina, but he wasn’t stupid. And he was perceptive—possibly empathic to some extent. He looked at Thorin, glanced at me, and scanned the horizon, the valley, the sky.

When he had satisfied himself with his search, his attention settled on Thorin. “It’s like standing in the middle of a hurricane.”

“What do you mean?” Thorin asked.

“There are too many things swirling about. I can’t pin them down.” Baldur’s brow furrowed, and he blinked. “Bitter and sweet. Terror and joy. You two have terrible timing.” He turned on his heel and motioned for us to follow him around the side of the house. “New Breidablick has wards. They’re holding Helen’s army at a relatively safe distance, for now, but keeping the wards up against her constant attack requires my active focus and attention. It will eventually wear me down, leaving me vulnerable and exhausted. I won’t be good for much if it comes to an all-out battle.”

Thunder rumbled overhead. “Leave the fighting to me,” Thorin said.

“The Valkyries are on their way,” I said. “But they’re hours out, and I don’t know which of them to trust. I’ll be honest. Embla makes me nervous. She was wounded at Amchitka, but if she’s Helen’s mole, she may have allies among the other women.”

Baldur flushed, and he glanced away. He stared, unfocused, somewhere over my shoulder toward a distant ridgeline. “You think Embla’s helping Hela as revenge for my parental neglect? She’s not a rebellious teenager, Solina.”

“It’s just one theory.” I crossed my arms over my chest and furrowed my brow. “I don’t know what motives the other Valkyries would have for helping Helen. Maybe there’s another explanation altogether.”

Baldur hesitated a moment longer. He scrubbed his chin and gazed at nothing. His expression sharpened, and his posture stiffened. “Thorin, follow me. Solina, I’d warn your parents. They’re already in the basement—see that they stay there. Find Nina, and get her to the basement, too.”

“Then what?” I asked. “Pop some popcorn, and put in a movie? There’s got to be something more useful I can do.”

He raised his chin and peered down at me. “Your time will come soon enough. Gather your strength, prepare your fire, and hope we don’t need it.” He stepped beside Thorin and grasped his shoulder. My ears popped, and the two men disappeared.

I growled and muttered incoherent expressions of annoyance as I stomped off to find my parents and explain to them how my plan to remove them from their home and bring them to Baldur’s house had actually been a huge mistake. And then I had to find Nina. Poor broken Nina... Wait. Nina.

As if I expected to find her hovering in some corner like a silent ghost, I rushed into the house and scanned the living room. Nope, no Nina. I hurried to the kitchen. Damn. Empty too. With no better idea of how to find her, I jogged through Baldur’s house, calling her name at the top of my lungs. “Nina! Hey, Nina! It’s Solina. Olly olly oxen free!”

“What?” Nina said from somewhere behind me. I yelped and spun around. She stood a few feet away at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor. She wore a gauzy white dress and a silvery-gray scarf that brought out the cool undertones in her brown skin. Regality fit her like pride fits a lioness. She clutched a book, holding her place with her thumb. “Your shrieking could raise the dead.”

“You don’t know the irony of that statement,” I said, mostly under my breath. “I need to ask you some more questions. About Helen. Would you be willing to talk to me about her?”

Nina glanced down at the book in her hand. She frowned. “Now?”

“You’ve got insight no one else has, and we need your help.”

Her eyebrow arched. “We?”

I exhaled and tried not to roll my eyes. Keep your patience. Don’t patronize. I stood my ground and waited for her reply.

She sighed. Her posture relaxed. She eyed her book again and sputtered her lips. “I was at a really good part, but I guess it can wait.”

“I’ll make us coffee,” I offered. I was going to need all the caffeine and extra energy kick I could get. Plus the chore gave me something to focus on, although I was perfectly capable of multitasking. Look, folks! She can make coffee and worry about the apocalypse at the same time!

Nina shrugged. “Why not?”

I led the way to the kitchen, and Nina trudged behind me. She wore her tough exterior like armor, no doubt a defensive mechanism she’d learned in her years living with Helen. But she had shown me her soft side the last time I was here. She had let down her barricades before. For weeks, she had marinated in Baldur’s love and care and hadn’t yet run away or killed the Allfather in his sleep. That had to mean something good, right?

Or maybe she’s here to be Helen’s backdoor key into New Breidablick. I dusted the little devil of doubt off my shoulder, and Nina gave me a funny look. I resisted sticking my tongue out at her. As if you don’t know about having voices in your head.

“Baldur has told you Helen is about to unleash her undead horde on us, right?” I went to the coffee pot.

Nina eased into a kitchen chair and nodded.

“You don’t seem very concerned.”

She waggled her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t have powers like you or Thorin or Baldur. What do I gain from being worried or upset about something beyond my control?”

“She could kill us all.”

She winced, but her expression eased. “Nah. Thorin and Baldur won’t go down so easily.”

“What about you and me and my parents? And the rest of the world?”

She stared at the backs of her hands and flexed her fingers. “Why should I fear death? I’ll just come back again, won’t I? And so will you, right?”

I swallowed my rising irritation and anger. Confrontation would mostly likely shut her down when I needed her cooperation more than ever. “I thought you didn’t believe in reincarnation.”

Nina looked up at me and blinked. She almost, almost, smiled. “Baldur can be very... persuasive.”

“There may not be anything left for you to come back to next time, if Helen gets her way.”

She sat up straighter and squinted at me. “What do you expect me to do about any of this?”

I finished pouring water into the coffee machine and pressed the start button. I leaned against the counter and crossed one leg over the other. “Two things.” I raised my index finger. “First, I want you to tell me who Helen’s contact inside the Aerie is. Which of the Valkyries is Helen’s mole?”

Her lips twisted, and she huffed. “I already told you, she would never tell me anything like that. I was always simply a way for her to take revenge on Baldur, by giving me to him a little more warped, a little more broken, and utterly useless. “

“You never heard her mention the Valkyries? How about Embla or Naomi?” I listed more Valkyrie names, but Nina only shook her head.

“Told you I’m useless,” she said.

Her melancholy pronouncement stirred a warm current of pity in my heart. “Your being here is a big help to Baldur. He’s been... well, he’s been better since he’s had you back.”

A light flared to life in her dark eyes, and her face brightened. “Really?”