The restaurant’s host gathered menus from his stand and led us to our seats. A waiter arrived and poured wine. “I took the liberty,” Thorin explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“At least it isn’t club soda,” I said, smiling.

Thorin smiled back. “You proved you could hold your alcohol.”

“Ah, you were there in the bathroom the next morning with me, or did you forget?”

“I think that was more of a side effect from your pyrotechnics.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged and sipped from the red he’d selected. I stopped myself from draining the glass in one gulp, though my nerves demanded alcoholic relief.

To accompany his dark suit, Thorin had chosen a pale cream shirt that softened his eyes into pools of warm chocolate. Don’t think flattering things about him. You’ll regret it later.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“That was a terribly forlorn sigh.”

“I wasn’t aware I had sighed.”

“I hope you aren’t entertaining fantasies of defeat. It’s too early to give up.”

Oh, I was entertaining fantasies all right, but they had nothing to do with Helen Locke. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

“Actually, I have some thoughts,” Thorin said. “You won’t like them, but I want you to listen before you get upset.”

“Can we at least get through the first course before you start pissing me off?”

A slim smile tugged at Thorin’s lips. “I can try.”

Accordingly, Thorin and I shared a plate of buttered mussels and talked about French cuisine. I explained what I knew from a baking standpoint, and Thorin’s interest seemed real. The waiter brought my crab cakes and Thorin’s steak, but neither of us picked up a fork. “I’m not as hungry as I thought I would be,” I said.

Thorin shook his head. “Neither am I.” We lingered a few more minutes before he pulled his wallet from his pocket and slipped out a single bill. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“What about our food?” I hated to think of all that lovely crab meat going to waste.

“We’ll have them send it to the room. I’m sure Skyla and Baldur will know what to do with it.” Thorin motioned to the waiter, and he trotted over. They muttered to each other, arranging delivery of the food, and then Thorin slipped him the cash. Thorin stood and drew out my chair for me. He took my hand, and I didn’t protest.

Thorin led us out of a side entrance to a footbridge spanning Las Vegas Boulevard. The sun had set, and a chill fell over the desert. If I’d hated my tiny red dress before, I now loathed it for its lack of insulating fabric. I also mentally kicked myself for not buying a shawl or wrap in anticipation of this kind of situation. As if I could anticipate anything. I’d never been to Vegas before and certainly never prowled around at night in unsuitable attire. Thorin noticed me rubbing my arms and shrugged off his jacket. I slipped it on and relished the residual body heat trapped in the fabric. It also carried his scent, the vague odor of ozone and damp air.

From our vantage point, the city presented a grand display of lights and animated billboards. Those signs were their own vignettes, miniature digital performances, regardless of what they advertised. I could have looked at them all night.

“Baldur is very upset, isn’t he?” I said, seeking conversation to fill the silence between us.

Thorin grunted. “He’s been put through hell, literally, and now he’s seeing there’s a chance he might face it again. I think most men would be depressed—or downright insane.”

“He’s not most men. He’s a god.”

“Just because we are not human doesn’t mean we don’t share the same emotions. What he feels is quite real.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” But I don’t know how to say what I did mean, so I asked something else. “If Baldur gave up, went into seclusion, what would it mean to Helen?”

Thorin considered his answer for a moment before saying, “Baldur is not necessarily more powerful than the rest of us, but in his role he is like a lens that focuses light into a beam. Without him, we are diffuse and less effective.”

“She can pick you off easier if he’s out of the way?”

“I think that’s the way she’s looking at it.”

“Is she more powerful, stronger, than you?”

Thorin laughed at that. “She only has more resources. At one time, Val and I were virtually omnipotent, but over the years we lost the sources of our supremacy. I’ve almost given up hope of ever finding them.”

Intrigued, I stopped and tugged us over to a bench out of the flow of foot traffic. We sat in a dark shadow between the streetlights, away from the notice of passersby. “What sources?”

“You looked up Mjölnir, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Thor’s hammer. An infallible weapon.”

“It was mine after his death. Only his blood kin can wield it.”

“And only if you’re worthy enough?” I said. So what if I had researched more than a few Wikipedia articles? Maybe Marvel was on to something.

Thorin sniffed. “Worthiness has nothing to do with it. It depends more on lineage, and on these…” Thorin pushed back his cuffs and showed me the thick bands circling his wrists. “The Járngreipr.”

“What?”

“They’re gauntlets, special gloves necessary for lifting the hammer. Baldur helped me refine them into something more… inconspicuous.”

I inspected the bracelets. Engravings marked their surfaces, like letters but from an unfamiliar alphabet. Some ancient language, I supposed. “And your necklace, is that something special too?”

Thorin looked away and gave the subtlest of nods. “Memegingjörd. I wear it as a torc now, but it used to be Thor’s belt.”

“What does it do?”

“It doubled Thor’s strength. Mine too, I guess, although I’ve rarely had cause to need it.”

“And Thor was your father?” I already knew, but wanted to hear him confirm it.

Thorin inhaled a deep breath and held it. He looked at the sky, but no stars dared to compete against the Vegas lights. “Yes,” he finally said.

I whistled low, between my teeth. “Unbelievable. Well, not really, considering everything else that has happened. But still…” I wanted to savor the import of his admission, but this was the most information I had ever gotten out of Thorin. If I interrupted our rhythm, he might clam up again. “And the hammer, what happened to it?”

“I took for granted that I was its only master. It was stolen.”

“But you said only Thor’s blood kin can wield it.”

“Wield it, yes, but it’s not like the comic books, Solina. Anyone could take it. Anyone who wanted to see me weakened.”