Thorin flanked me as I started toward the house. “What did they want with you?”
“Coffee first.” Not that I needed the caffeine. Mostly, I needed a moment to process, time for the magnitude of Hugh’s proposal to fully sink in.
Chapter 8
In the kitchen, I poured another cup of coffee and caught Thorin eyeing the muffins, his brows drawn together, mouth turned down. He reached for one of the devious confections, but I pushed his hand away. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I whispered in case Nina lingered somewhere within hearing range.
“What’s in them? They smell…” He stopped and sniffed. His nose wrinkled.
“Don’t ask,” I whispered. “If Nina gives you one, take it and smile. Then feed it to the dogs. They liked them.”
Baldur narrowed his eyes at the muffins and scowled.
I set my mug on the counter, letting it clatter like a gavel, bringing our meeting to order. “Where have the two of you been?” I cut my eyes between Baldur and Thorin. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Thorin arched a brow. “All over? We were in the basement.”
“In my office,” Baldur said.
“I didn’t know there was a basement.” Not knowing the house’s layout was my fault for spending so much time hiding in my room and in my own head the last time I was here.
Baldur shrugged. “C’mon. I’ll show you. And I’ll show you what we were looking at.”
“You can tell us about the birds on the way,” Thorin said.
As I rehashed my conversation with Hugh, the guys led me from the kitchen, down a hallway, and stopped before a door set in the wall beneath the stairs to the second floor. I snickered, imagining the door would open to reveal the living quarters of a small boy with a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.
Instead of a cubbyhole, the doorway led to stairs, and Baldur ushered us down to an open space lined in warm wood paneling. Recessed lights lent the windowless space a theatrical quality. Another massive TV screen covered most of the wall on one end of the room, and cozy, worn furniture squatted before it. This looked like a space in which Baldur probably spent most of his time, when he wasn’t outdoors with his animals.
In the room’s rear, several bookcases towered over a massive mahogany desk. A slim computer screen sat to one side, its modern sleekness contrasting with the considerable weight and age of the furniture supporting it.
Baldur motioned to the seating in front of the TV. I sank onto the loveseat, and Thorin sat beside me. Warmth radiated from him along with his scent of rain and storms. Hugh’s words flashed through my mind again, his insistence about Thorin’s feelings for me. I pushed the thought away and focused on the immediate issue.
“I can’t do it, you know.” I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees, and buried my face in my hands. “I can’t just march up to Val and light him up like kindling.”
Beside me, Thorin shifted his weight. He grasped my wrists and tugged my hands away from my face. I inhaled, let out the breath, and brought my eyes up to meet his. “No one’s asking you to, no one other than those birds. Besides the fact that it’s too great a risk, you aren’t a killer. Not like this.”
My shoulders slumped, and his absolution washed over me. Until he said it, I’d half feared he would ask me to do what the birds wanted. I would have either hated him for it, or I would have considered doing it and hated myself.
“It would solve a lot of our problems.” I played the devil’s advocate.
“Or make them worse,” Baldur said. “Val is not your enemy, Solina. He doesn’t hate you or seek any kind of revenge against you. But doing this would change that, and you don’t need any more enemies.”
“You know the secret now,” I said. “With Mjölnir, you could kill Val and take the birds. They were afraid of that, you know. That’s why they asked me to do it. Hugh said if either of you had them, it would be too much temptation. You wouldn’t let them go.”
Thorin blew out. “He’s probably right. I can’t say the idea isn’t appealing.”
“But you’re not going to take the bait?”
“Not today.” He captured my gaze again. “But I can’t say if the opportunity presents itself, I won’t take advantage. If having those birds could end this, save us all...” He took my hand and squeezed my fingers. “If it would save you, I’d kill Val and take control of those birds without hesitation. Skoll could never hide from us again.”
Biting my lip, I nodded and turned to Baldur. “And you, Allfather? Would you do anything to have those birds?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have any of the weapons it would take.”
“You couldn’t kill Val with your runes?”
His face flushed, and he looked away. “Using them that way... It’s a perversion.”
“The Valkyries use runes to get what they want. They’ve killed with them.”
“Their runes were gifted from Odin. They chose to use them as they see fit. I use mine as I see fit.”
“One more question, then I’ll leave you alone.”
Baldur raised his chin then dropped it once in a quick nod.
“Why didn’t you use the runes to get away from Helen, when you were her captive?”
His jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. “I did use the runes to escape Hela. But the sacrifice I had to make to gain their power took a lot more than Odin’s nine days.”
A sacrifice made to gain wisdom—it was what Hugin and Munin had asked of me. Make Val the sacrifice. Gain near omniscience at the cost of my self-respect and virtue. “I’m no Allfather. I’m a woman with a goddess bottled up inside. I’m not even the genie, just the lantern. Even if I could do what the ravens asked me, how could I handle that kind of knowledge and power? I don’t think I could.”
Thorin shifted closer. His knee pressed into mine. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. But I think your reluctance is wise for now. Forget the birds. Forget Val. Stay focused on the goal.”
“Skoll,” I said.
Thorin nodded. “Yes.”
