“It’s Wotan.”
“He’s there with you?”
“Yeah, I’m at the store. He’s been in and out today, bothering me about you.”
Val’s voice carried over the line. “Is that Solina?”
“Lie,” I said. “Lie like a rug.”
“It’s my mom,” Skyla said to Val.
“There’s no way someone like you ever had a mother.” Cracks and thumps in my ear suggested someone had dropped the phone. Or maybe Skyla had punched Val in the face, which I kind of hoped was the case.
I considered hanging up, but then Skyla yelled, “Let go of my phone, Wotan. I fight dirty, and I’m not afraid to go for your nuts.”
“You try it and you’ll draw back a bloody nub.”
I would have feared for Skyla’s safety, but she had held her own against a wolf. Maybe I should have been more afraid for Val. Further noises of fighting encouraged me to end the call.
I hung up and set the phone on the bedside table. The sound of running water filtered through the boat’s thin walls. Thorin taking a shower, probably. I pushed that provocative image out of my head and went to work applying my drug-store makeup and tending to my hair. It hung to the middle of my back, thick and straight, the color of chardonnay, or so my father said. Maybe Thorin didn’t have the patent on good hair, but from working in the kitchen over the years, I had developed a habit of always keeping mine tied up and out of the way. I brushed it out and pinned it back from my face with a plain gold clip—also bought at the drugstore.
I slipped into the dress, shoes, and jewelry. Then I tucked a few dollars and my silenced cell phone into the matching clutch purse the saleslady had thrown on the pile. I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, collecting my thoughts and my courage. My purse buzzed, and I pulled out the phone. It was Skyla again. I considered answering it, but feared Val might have wrestled her phone away from her after all, so I let it go.
Even in the boat’s cramped interior, I heard nothing from Thorin until the moment he knocked on my door. He had moved about, silent as a ghost. “Are you ready?” he asked through the door.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. “I guess so,” I said.
In an expertly tailored black jacket and slacks falling perfectly over polished shoes, Thorin struck me in the same way as a force of nature: the potential for great strength and destruction packaged as a thing of awesome beauty. Like a thunderstorm. Who is he? James Bond? Storing suits in multiple locations, just in case? I didn’t see him carry luggage onto the yacht, but then he may have packed the suit earlier, planning to attend this dinner some time ago. His decision to bring me along had probably been made on a whim.
Thorin returned my gaze, his normally solemn face now fierce, his dark eyes almost black. I shivered. “You don’t approve?” I asked.
Thorin blinked, and some of the harshness fell away. “You are radiant,” he said, his voice thick and husky. My heart sped to a quick pitter-patter. “But I am reminded of your fragility. Like a ray of sunlight, you are beautiful.”
“It sounds like a compliment,” I said, “but the tone of your voice and the look on your face say otherwise.”
Thorin nodded. “It’s also ephemeral, insubstantial, and so easily smothered.”
If Thorin meant his words to gouge me, they had the opposite effect. I’d thought he and I had found a rapport in our recent time together, but he proved me wrong. I made a mental note not to make assumptions about him again. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin. “As if anyone could put out the sun.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Thorin’s mouth. “Big talk for a little girl.”
“Is there a particular reason you want to antagonize me?” I put a hand to my hip and raised a petulant brow. “Did I use up all the hot water so you had to take a cold shower and this is your revenge?”
Thorin’s hand slithered up my arm; he wrapped his fingers around my biceps. “Your bravado and flippancy won’t fool the people you meet tonight. I don’t tell you these things in an attempt to bruise your ego. I want you to appreciate that the danger you face is real. You must be aware, and it would behoove you to talk as little as possible.”
“Behoove?” I said. “Which century did you drag that up from?”
Thorin’s temper went blacker, and his grip on my arm tightened.
“You don’t have to warn me,” I said. “I assure you I am thoroughly freaked out, but if you’re acting this way because you’ve changed your mind about bringing me along, then say so. Your brute force won’t intimidate me. If you’re waiting for me to chicken out, then we’re going to be very late for dinner. I was a coward for most of my life. I have since gotten over it.”
“That was before certain new realities were presented to you,” he said.
I tugged my arm, and Thorin released it. I started to tell Thorin where he could shove his certain new realities, but thought better of testing his temper further. “I’m not running away,” I said. “If you’re afraid this is too dangerous for me, then you’d better do your best to keep me safe.”
My bold talk gave me the nerve I needed to get past Thorin, up the stairs, across Mjölnir’s deck, onto the dock, and into the marina parking lot before my knees began to knock. Thorin followed me and guided me toward a black town car waiting to whisk us to the hotel. The chauffeur held open the back door for me, but I didn’t dare say thank you for fear my teeth might clack and give me away.
When the car stopped in front of the hotel, Thorin reached across me and grabbed the door handle to prevent me from pushing it open. “You are my guest this evening,” he said. “You should allow me to treat you as such.”
“Your guest?” I gave him a disparaging look. “You could have fooled me.”
“It wasn’t my intention to scare you. Not away from me, anyway. I said I would protect you, and I meant it, but I need you not to underestimate anyone you meet tonight just because they’re dressed up in glitter and shine and hidden beneath the polished veneer of money and society. I still want you to be on your guard.”
I met Thorin’s gaze for the first time since we’d left the boat. Genuine concern showed on his face. I nodded. Thorin exhaled and nodded back. “And don’t open the door,” he said, pointing to the chauffeur outside his tinted window. “That’s what I pay him to do.”
Our driver popped the handle on Thorin’s side of the car and opened the door. Thorin exited then leaned in and held out a hand for me. I hesitated to take it. The air felt heavy between us. Portentous. Mani had laughed at me for using that word before, but nothing else fit. Normally I couldn’t predict when a touch would trigger a vision, but Thorin’s mood was so substantial it had taken on an almost physical presence. That kind of brooding didn’t develop without a foundation of strong thoughts and vivid impressions.
Here goes nothing.
I slid my fingers into Thorin’s waiting hand, and the moment I touched him, a flash of light exploded before my eyes. I reeled back. When my vision cleared, Thorin stood before me, but he wasn’t wearing a fancy suit in front of the Westmark Hotel. He stood on the edge of a dark forest in a misty field. Other figures had gathered around him, but the haze obscured the details of their faces. Violent emotions rolled off the congregation like steam from a boiling pot.
They directed their anger and loathing at an invisible enemy beyond the mist. In the distance, a dog bayed, and wolves howled. Hollow voices groaned and shrieked—horrible, monstrous utterances of death and pain and horror. Fury and bloodlust marred Thorin’s face. The vision gave me names for these foreign emotions with which I had no personal experience. The style of Thorin’s armor and attire suggested antiquity, a scene that had occurred a long time ago. Someone shouted in a language I did not understand. “Ríthum hestum hart út berum.”
The entire assembly, including Thorin, responded in unison, “Brugdnum sverdum, a braut héthan!” And then they charged.
I came to with Thorin shaking me; concern puckered his brow. He stopped when my eyes focused on him, but he held me, waiting for me to say something, do something, to show I was okay. “What does a braut héthan mean?” I asked.
