“I’m almost afraid to hope.” He touched his lips to the curve of my jaw, below my ear. “But yes, I think we’ve won.”
I turned, bringing my mouth closer to his. “These apples, do you think they could answer the question of my mortality?”
His thumb stroked my jawline, and I sank further into him. “I think it’s very possible. It would explain a lot about how you’ve managed to survive so many things that should have killed you.”
“Does the fact I’ve eaten them mean I’m immortal now?” A mixed blessing, immortality. I wanted forever with Thorin, but I also wanted to reunite with Mani again someday. Perhaps, as long as I retained the lessons Gróa had taught me—the ways of the völva—I could have my cake and eat it too. Such a thing seemed like too much to hope for, but it was a promising kind of day. We had defeated our enemy. We had won.
“I think it means your timeline is less limited than it was before.” Thorin leaned lower and plucked a kiss from my lips. “More than that is hard to know. Your presence in Asgard is unprecedented.” He snorted. “Everything about you is unprecedented.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment.” I closed my eyes and leaned into him. He shifted, taking my weight, and eased me to the ground, laying me like a treasure upon a blanket of grass. There was possession in the way he kissed me, slowly, deeply, as if he meant to claim me. Sometimes, despite our best intentions, there is ownership in love. For once, I didn’t mind being owned—not if Thorin was the one to whom I was bound.
His lips trailed down my neck, and I buried my hands in his hair. I breathed him in, and he smelled like rain, the kind that came with wind gusts and thunder, turning the heat and humidity of a Southern summer into steam and mist.
His hands explored my skin, and I pressed against him, begging for more. I burned for his touch.
Is it my fire? Or is it desire?
I didn’t know.
I didn’t care.
There was me; there was him and no one else in all the realm of Asgard.
Nothing else matters.
Chapter 26
Skyla and I sat at the table in Thorin’s kitchen, stuffing our faces with scrambled eggs and buttered toast. Nestled on a mountaintop on a private island in Resurrection Bay, his isolated home discouraged interference from the outside world. I could think of no other place I wanted to be.
Before Thorin disappeared with a vague excuse about checking on something at his sporting goods store, he had cooked us breakfast and demanded we eat it all. Skyla picked at her plate while I, like a steam shovel, piled eggs and bacon in my mouth as fast as I could chew, filling a stomach that had gone several days without solid food. The apples had saved me, but butter and eggs and toast and honey would restore me. And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
Beneath my robe and pajamas, great swaths of pink scars curled over my stomach, ribs, chest, and neck. Baldur’s rune work had prevented the need for stitches and reduced my healing time to days rather than months. A quick bath in my fire’s restorative powers would likely remove all remaining evidence of the wolf’s attack, but I had a way to go before my flames were up to that task. Time heals all wounds...
At the kitchen table, sitting across from me, Skyla poked her fork tines at a few fluffy yellow bits on her plate. She supported her chin in her palm, elbow resting on the table, and stifled a yawn. Dark smudges underscored her eyes, and her curls sprang wildly about her head.
“Go get some sleep,” I said. “Bedside vigils are exhausting.”
She smiled sheepishly and set down her fork. “If I take my eyes off you, how do I know you won’t disappear on me?”
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I have a feeling I won’t be going anywhere for a very long time.”
Her cheeks colored. “Thorin told me. Idun’s apples, huh?”
I leaned closer and captured her gaze. “Nothing’s changed, Skyla. Nothing between us is different. Whether I die tomorrow or live for a thousand years, I love you more than life itself, and you’re my best friend. The best I’ve ever had. How could I have survived a minute without you?”
She looked away. “You wouldn’t ask me that if you could see yourself when you go Super Sunshine. You are a goddess, Solina.”
I chuffed. “So are you.”
She leaned back in her chair and scowled.
“No, really,” I said. “You’re at least a demigoddess, anyway. Baldur’s your grandfather. That’s got to come with some interesting...” I choked down a snicker. “Side effects.”
Her scowl deepened. “It’s not funny. He lied to me.”
“He didn’t want to hurt you.”
“That’s everyone’s excuse when they lie.”
Sensing the freshness of her pain, I sobered and dropped my smile. I wasn’t quite willing to call Baldur’s omissions lies, but his resistance to admitting his flaws had cost us all dearly. Skyla’s bitterness toward him wasn’t misplaced or undeserved, but I didn’t want to see her anger take her down the same path that Embla’s rage had carried her.
“You’re right,” I said. “Absolutely. But he’s family. Do you have so much that you can afford to lose him?”
The subject of our conversation had retreated to New Breidablick to tend to his affairs, and he had taken Grim with him. The wounds Odin’s spear had given Grim had improved, but his injuries required more of Baldur’s finesse. Grim and Baldur had also seemed to understand that the only invalid Thorin wanted to nurse was me, and the two had left not long after I awoke back inside myself, fully ensconced in the human world. I suspected Baldur had gone home to lick his own wounds. Nothing like finding out your daughter’s abandonment issues almost brought on the second Ragnarok.
A flame burned in Skyla’s eyes when she answered. “I have you. I have the Valkyries.” She folded her arms over her chest and frowned. “What’s left of them, anyway.”
“You trust the ones who are left?”
“I will. I’ll make them prove themselves to me.”
The look on Skyla’s face left no question about her future goals and intentions. She was a Valkyrie with Aesir blood, and she’d undoubtedly take the Aerie by force if she had to. But I had a feeling the remaining Valkyries would welcome Skyla and her tough-but-fair brand of leadership. Embla’s betrayal had torn them apart and nearly destroyed them. Skyla’s strength and verve and love would knit them together again.
“What about the rest of your family? Your father and your brother? I looked for them when you went missing after Oneida Lake. Thought one of them might have a lead that pointed back to you.”
The fire in Skyla’s eyes dimmed. “Haven’t heard from either of them in years. Paul and I were never close. He had a substance-abuse problem. He was an addict. Before I was old enough to help him, he disappeared. I always figured he lived on the streets until he overdosed or died from something he got from a bad needle.” She shrugged, and something flashed in her eyes. I had seen that same look in my own eyes in the months after Mani’s death. She understood about lost brothers, and it was another shared pain that reinforced our bond.
“And your dad?” I sensed she didn’t want to talk about Paul.
