Somewhere in the depths of my mind, my body shrieked at me. The wounds Skoll inflicted had not healed. Perhaps I had run out of fire before my flesh had mended, but I was too tired, too anesthetized on adrenaline, to appreciate or acknowledge the extent of my injuries.
The clatter of shifting rocks and bitter, sharp voices drew my attention to a spot closer to the water’s edge. A gust of wind blew the fog aside momentarily, revealing Grim, who was on his feet again but pale, shaky and blood soaked. He swung his fiery blade at a little redheaded sprite, Siobhan, while Skyla and Embla struck and lunged and yelled at each other.
Grim stumbled, and the sword guttered. Siobhan danced around the flames like a pixie, dodging in and out and striking when she could with her own small sword. The mists drifted, concealing the fight again, but the fog threw their voices at me and amplified their words.
“Why?” Skyla demanded. “Why are you doing this, Embla?”
“To recreate the world,” Embla said. “You know that.”
“But Helen—”
“Helen Locke was a pawn. She was desperate and angry, like all the Aesir. So easy to manipulate.”
“You hunted and fought her golems with us at Amchitka,” Skyla said.
“It’s a nasty game we played, but necessary. A magician’s trick to distract the audience.”
“Helen will be dead soon if she isn’t already,” Grim said, but his voice was hoarse and full of pain. Gungir may not have killed him, but it had apparently inflicted a grievous wound. The fog opened and showed Siobhan rolling away from a spew of Surtalogi’s fire. The petite Valkyrie fought from a stance near the waves, and she used the water to her advantage. When she gained her footing again, she hurled a blade at him, but Grim swung, and the sword’s flames shielded him.
“You’re right.” Embla huffed for breath. She and Skyla faced each other near the water’s edge. Waves lapped at their feet. Sand coated their legs like armor. Neither held a weapon other than her own cunning and fierceness. “She’s another necessary sacrifice. Helen will surrender everything for a chance to reclaim Baldur”—she paused and panted—“just like she always does. It’s ingrained in her. The ancients... abide in their patterns. They cannot break free. It’s their... greatest weakness. Makes them predictable... so simple to control.”
Skyla charged her aunt again and landed a solid punch in Embla’s ribs. Embla hissed and twisted away, moving like a greased snake.
“If Helen’s the pawn,” Skyla said breathlessly, “does that mean you’re the queen?”
“Don’t be so surprised.” Embla circled Skyla, slashing at her with an open-handed jab. “You figured out a lot. You know my lineage. You know... You know my father abandoned my sisters and me... all of his children the way the Aesir abandoned the Valkyries or used them as their whores.” Embla bared her teeth. “He abandoned you too.”
Skyla recoiled. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the Allfather. Your grandfather. Baldur.”
The mists closed over them again like curtains at the end of an act. Everything fell silent except the crashing waves. My heart thumped several slow, stuttered beats, before Siobhan cursed. Then she screamed. Embla screeched, and Skyla coughed a strained grunt. When the fog lifted again, Siobhan was crumpled on the beach. A horrible scorch mark fanned across her chest. Waves lapped at her red curls, and her blood dyed the sea foam pink.
Well, that much of my vision came true, anyway.
Grim turned the sword toward Embla and took a spot at Skyla’s side, but Embla was already down on one knee. Blood seeped from her nose, and she clutched her ribs. Then things went fuzzy, and not because of the fog. Something colder than the wind and water chilled my insides, turning my guts to ice.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Shit. Skoll must have done more damage than I thought.
“So you were going to burn the world to ash and start over again?” Grim asked, oblivious to my flagging condition. His words sounded as though they came from a distant place, although I knew better. He stood only a few yards away, the sword sparking and spitting flames at his feet.
“The Valkyries and I…” Embla panted. “We’ll build a world where we’re not forsaken or taken for granted.”
“How were you going to survive?” Skyla asked. “After you burned everything down?”
Embla chuckled hoarsely. “That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave if I must. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Darkness swirled, sucking me toward an infinite, bottomless void. But a shout of horror mixed with outrage yanked me away from the edge. The bellow had sounded a little like my name. It also sounded a little like a grizzly bear imitating Thorin’s voice.
I pried my eyes open in time to see Skyla’s attack. Distracted by Thorin’s sudden appearance, Embla never defended herself. Skyla’s fist slammed into her jaw, and the older woman’s head rocked back. She collapsed as if her bones had turned to water, and she did not move again.
My satisfaction was bittersweet. How could it be otherwise, when I was pretty sure I was bleeding out, one heartbeat at a time? I looked away from Embla’s lifeless body and found Thorin standing at the edge of the surf, Mjölnir clutched in his fist.
Skyla followed the direction of his stare until her gaze fell on me. “Solina… Oh, shit.” She blanched and stumbled toward me, horror showing clearly in her wide eyes.
Thorin blipped out of sight and appeared at my side. He fell to his knees and gathered me in his arms. “You gonna die on me, Sunshine?” he asked, his voice hoarse and rough.
I swallowed and shook my head. The effort nearly took me out. “Trying not to.”
Fury filled his eyes, and he glared at me. “Try harder.” He ground the command through a clenched jaw.
I locked my eyes on his as the æther’s whirlwind rose around us.
My ears popped.
The void sucked me in.
Blackness swallowed me whole.
Chapter 25
Thorin’s heartbeat hammered beneath my ear. His heat enveloped me, and he smelled like the rain that falls in heavy sheets, bringing flood, destruction, and plague—an angry deluge of doom and death. Part of me wanted to linger in my semiconscious state where nebulous detachment shielded me from my own pain and his anger. But I was not the kind of woman who avoided reality.
I had never hidden from truth.
Thorin’s presence sharpened along with my awareness. He held me in his lap, arms folded around me, lips pressed against my temple. He must have sensed my wakefulness because he shifted and raised his head. “Sunshine?”
Sweet and cloying, the flavor of Idun’s apples coated my mouth as if I had drowned in a vat of their juices. I smacked my lips and swallowed. “Why do I feel like I have an apple cider hangover?” My voice was raw and gravelly.
