“Always. Baldur, we’ll wait here until you show up.”
Skyla ended the call, and Baldur stood and looked at Thorin and me. “What are you two going to do?”
“We’re going to keep heading to New Breidablick,” I said. “Neither of us are in the best condition to fight right now.”
Baldur nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you there as soon as possible.” My ears popped, and Baldur disappeared.
Thorin looked at me and arched an eyebrow. “Really? No insisting on going back to Vegas to confront Val?”
I gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. “My fire is bankrupt. I’m exhausted and in no state to fight wolves or face Val… Rolf… whoever.” My stomach turned over at the thought of seeing him again. My brain still tended to reject the truth—that Rolf and Val were the same, and when I forced the question, things inside me went cold and dizzy. “I have a feeling going to Val plays into his scheme, whatever it is. If he wants something from us, I don’t plan to make it easy for him. And maybe, just maybe, Skyla and Baldur will get lucky.”
He nodded. “I won’t argue. I think you’re making the right decision. And if you agree to go my way, we can be at New Breidablick in a blink.”
“Your way makes me seasick.”
“It’s another hour and a half by car.”
I motioned toward the parking lot. “What about the bloody truck outside?”
“The rental company will take care of it. Discreet, remember?”
“Is your rental company owned by the mob?”
“No, I own the rental company. The mob rents from me.”
I studied his face, looking for a clue as to whether he was teasing me or not. I rolled my eyes and snorted. He grinned, knowing he had won the argument.
Baldur had established New Breidablick as a fortress of runes, wards, and inexplicable magic that shouldn’t exist in the human world. It was safe and probably the only place I could relax. “You guys with your lakes and mountains and predilections for snow.” I slid out of bed, intending to retrieve my jeans from where I had left them folded in the bathroom. “You’re all so much alike and still so completely different. Take you and your brother, for example. What happened to make you two hate each other so much?”
I had meant the question rhetorically, not expecting an answer. Thorin and personal questions were anathema. Instead of ignoring me or changing the subject, he answered. “I don’t hate Grim.”
I paused at the bathroom doorway. “Could have fooled me.”
“Our history is too extensive for hate.”
“Well, I have enough hate for him to cover the both of us.”
He gave no reply but picked up his coffee cup and scrutinized the lid as if he had discovered an alien artifact.
I let him suffer the discomfort of my prickly glare a few seconds. “What do you think happened to Grim after the fight at Rainier? You never said, and I’ve been too distracted to ask.”
He shook his head and looked away. “I don’t know what happened to him. I assume the cave-in buried him. I... I’ve been back to check, but there was no sign of him.”
“He’s a wild card again. Another unpredictable factor we don’t know how to account for?”
He raised a shoulder and dropped it. “I’m sorry, Solina. I wish I could tell you something more definite.”
“Do you regret it?”
His gaze cut to me, and his lips thinned. “Regret what?”
“Fighting him. He’s your brother, after all.”
His throat worked. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “At the time, I was willing to do whatever it took to bring him down…”
“But now that you’re no longer in the heat of the moment?”
He pressed his lips together and avoided my stare. How many times had Mani and I fought? How many times had we said and done things to hurt each other in moments of extreme anger? Of course, Mani had never tried to kill anyone under my protection and care. I still hated Grim, but then again, he wasn’t my own flesh and blood.
Time for a change of subject. “Hey, Thorin?”
He set down his coffee cup and looked up at me. “Yes?”
“Where are my jeans? I thought I left them on the counter after my shower.”
“They were bloody. I hope you don’t mind, but...” He bent, grabbed something from the floor near his bed, and tossed it at me.
I caught the bundle, recognizing it as a shopping bag from a national chain. Peeking inside, I found a pair of jeans in the same size and style as my previous pair, generic sneakers and socks, a long-sleeved shirt and a tank top—the kind that came with built-in support—and a plain gray hoodie. As if I needed further evidence of my exhaustion and strained nerves, embarrassing tears welled up in my eyes. The smallest gestures and a little kindness—those things meant the most in difficult times. A couple of deep breaths got my swirly emotions under control. I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders, but I kept my gaze pinned on the floor.
“Thank you.”
“I got you a toothbrush, too. I would have gotten you some, ah, other things to wear, but I was afraid you would think it was presumptuous of me.”
“No, this will do fine. It’s perfect, actually.”
“When I promised to protect you, I meant more than just keeping you alive.”
I swallowed and met his eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”
