Baldur interrupted my rant. “And it’s all my fault. My shortsightedness and impulsivity put us all in danger. It’s been so long since I’ve had to think about the consequences of my actions that I’ve lost my good judgment.” He raised a bloody hand toward Thorin. “I release you from your vows, cousin. You are no longer obligated to risk yourself or anyone else to uphold your loyalty to me.”

“But—” Thorin said.

Baldur interrupted. “No buts. You must do what is best for us all. I am afraid I can no longer be trusted.”

“I have none of your knowledge or wisdom.”

“None of you have shown a lot of wisdom,” I said, sticking my nose in the middle of ancient business, “but I think I can help you with your power, at least.”

Thorin’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“Open your hand.”

The look that shot across Thorin’s face indicated he wanted to balk at my order, but he swallowed his retort and did as I said. I covered his hand with mine and dropped what I had been holding with a fierce grip all that time. The warm gold shimmered to life in his palm when I pulled away. Thorin went still as golden light flickered like a firefly on his face. He glanced up at me, eyes wide, lips parted as if uttering a silent cry of surprise. The intensity of his attention pressed against me, and I fidgeted, resisting the urge to flee. Or kiss him. Anything to wipe the unsettling awe and adoration from his face.

“Does it take any magic words?” I asked.

“Magic words?” Thorin asked, his voice dry and gruff, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Presto chango, or something like that.”

“No.” Thorin shook his head. Then he closed his palm over the gold and twisted his wrist. In a shift too fast to comprehend, the charm disappeared, and instead he clutched a hammer, Mjölnir, in all its majesty. The chain transformed into a leather lanyard, looped around his forearm, drawing attention to the iron cuff he wore. Baldur had fashioned a set of bracelets from Thor’s legendary gauntlets, and Thorin wore them without fail, as if he’d always believed the hammer would return to him some day. And it had. The significance of that moment gave me chills.

“How did you—” he started.

I put my finger to his lips, stopping him midsentence. “Get us away from this place. Get Skyla some medical attention, and get me something to eat. Let me sleep at least twelve hours, and I swear I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Beneath my finger, Thorin’s lips spread into a genuine smile so full of sincere happiness, I almost fainted at the beauty of it—the dazzle in his eyes, the way his face brightened, the shadow of a dimple in his right cheek. Has that always been there? He was a god in all his wonder at that moment, and if my knees quaked and wanted to give way, much blame could be placed on exhaustion and hunger but also on pure amazement.

Chapter Eleven

Our ragtag group hiked across the field until we reached the shoulder of the highway. Baldur had stopped Skyla’s bleeding, but she was weak and listless, so he carried her. I recognized she needed the help, but exhaustion robbed me of the last of my gallantry. I wanted a little coddling, too. Thorin carried bucketloads of compassion for Baldur—even to his own detriment—but when I jeopardized myself to rescue them, I apparently got nothing in return.

“Thank you,” Thorin said, pulling me away from Baldur and Skyla. “I wish you wouldn’t have taken the risk—I wish you hadn’t had to—but thank you.”

“Are you a mind reader, too?” I asked.

Thorin chuckled. “Hardly. You wear your thoughts on your face.” He flipped his hand, and Mjölnir shrank into its golden-charm form. He took my shoulders, spun me around, pushed aside my hair, and latched the chain around my neck. “Do me a favor? Keep Mjölnir for now. Baldur knows we have it, but say nothing to anyone else, not even Skyla.”

I turned around to face him and tucked the necklace under the collar of my T-shirt. “Why? Why don’t you keep it, and why don’t you want the others to know?”

“I want you to carry it—take it as a symbol of my trust, and also because if you wear it, it’s less obvious what it is. No one expects you to have it, and it’s like hiding it in plain sight. Let it serve as a reminder that I’ll never leave you unprotected.”

While jewelry was a common token of vows and promises, nothing was common or token about Thorin giving me Mjölnir. After all that had happened in the hours since reconnecting with him in Sacramento, I was too exhausted and emotionally raw to absorb the full immensity of his gesture. Maybe later, after food, shower, and sleep, I’d be equipped for dealing with how I felt about it.

Thorin ducked his head. “It goes against my nature to be indebted, Sunshine. Tell me how I can repay you for what you’ve done.”

“You already know what I want.”

Thorin grinned. “A cheeseburger?”

“That would be a good start, but bring me Skoll’s head on a platter, and everything I’ve gone through will have been worth it.”

Thorin took my hand. He brushed his lips over my knuckles and rested our entwined hands over his heart. “For you, I swear it will be done.”

A crackling, tingling tendril of heat crawled up my arm, starting from the place where Thorin’s lips had touched me. His unexpected intimacy unsettled me, like a little earthquake straining barriers I had built to protect my vulnerabilities. I wasn’t ready to dismantle my walls yet, so I yanked my hand free, and my reaction seemed to startle him. Thorin drew himself up straight, settled back on his heels, and put on a guarded expression.

“Quit being so damned charming and reasonable,” I grumbled. “It just gets me confused.”

Thorin threw his head back and laughed, which sounded like thunder and rain, a beautiful summer storm. Another tremor shivered through me, another small crack splintering my defenses. If he kept that up, being amiable and likeable, my heart was going to be in so much trouble.

I turned away from Thorin, intending to step toward the road, but my bare foot caught something sharp and jagged, and I stumbled. Before I could cry out or try to catch myself, Thorin caught me and held me steady.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” he said, “but where are your shoes? And the rest of your clothes?”

Thorin had saved my modesty too many times to count, and he had firsthand knowledge of the circumstances that cost me my clothes.

“Don’t tell me I’m making you blush,” I said.

Thorin chuckled and shook his head. “I want the full story from you, Sunshine. But later. When the timing is better for it.”

Headlights appeared on the road behind Thorin. I gasped, certain Helen’s men had found us.

Thorin tightened his grip on me when I moved to run. “I think this is our ride.”

The vague shape of a Yukon materialized around the headlights. “No way,” I said.

“Yes way,” Baldur said.

The vehicle veered onto the shoulder and braked to a stop beside us. The passenger window lowered, and Val’s grinning face greeted us. “Anyone going my way?”

Skyla raised her head from Baldur’s shoulder. Her voice came out thin and scratchy. “For the first time in my life, Wotan, I’m actually happy to see you.”

“You’re not Nina, but I’m happy to see you too, Ramirez.”

Baldur slid Skyla into the rear seat, and Thorin settled me in beside her before taking a seat next to me. Baldur joined Val in the front.

“Where to?” Val asked, his hand resting on the gearshift.

Thorin inclined his head toward me. “What is it, Sunshine? Food or sleep?”

“What about Skyla?” I asked. “We need to take her to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Val said. “Everyone knows gunshot wounds are reported to the police. We don’t need the attention.”

“And what kind of attention do you think it would draw if she died?” That sounded callous, but I would say anything if it saved my friend. “I don’t care about police reports, Val. You’re welcome to drop us off at the hospital and go if you prefer.”

“She is not going to die,” Baldur said. “I have experience in treating battle wounds as well as some healing skills. Do not worry for her, Solina. I will make certain she receives good care.”