And somewhere out there is Fen… who thinks I'm dead. A man who carried me to another world. Who apparently loves me. I’m his soul mate. And his grandfather—Odin—brought me back from death and gave me a fucking wolf.
I sit back down, picking up one of the strange bits of fruit and popping it into my mouth. The tartness explodes across my tongue. It’s good. And I’m so hungry.
I look at my hand, trying to imagine it as a paw. I can’t.
This is ridiculous.
A growl rattles in my chest and a strange feeling of desperation washes through me. And then a foreign voice whispers in my mind.
We need Fen.
CHAPTER 37
There Is No We
* * *
Astrid Mathieson
This is insane.
Another growl rattles in my chest. The foreign presence stirs again, pressing against my consciousness like a second heartbeat I never asked for. It feels... alive. Separate from me yet somehow using my own body, my own vocal cords. My GUIDE training prepared me for a lot, but nothing covered "what to do when a Norse god shoves a wolf spirit into your freshly resurrected body.
We need Fen the female inner voice repeats.
"Stop that," I mutter, glancing around to make sure no one hears me talking to myself. Palace staff probably already think I'm unhinged—the strange human woman who died and came back. No need to confirm it by having conversations with thin air. "There is no we."
But the voice ignores me and whispers again, more insistent, sending a wave of yearning through my body that doesn't feel like my own emotion. Find our mate. Find Fen.
"He's not my—" I cut myself off, jaw clenching. No point arguing with a voice in my head when that voice is apparently an actual sentient being sharing my skull.
I push myself up from the stone bench, indecision giving way to desperation. Sitting here won't get me answers, and I need those answers more than I need air right now. Frigga said Fen is somewhere in the forest or the mountains. The others couldn't find him, and I have no reason to believe I'll fare any better with my limited knowledge of this realm. Except the wolf begs to differ. She’s feeling all kinds of certainty while my human mind catalogs all the ways this could go wrong.
But first, I need proper clothes. This sleeping gown they've put me on might work for convalescence, but I'm not trekking through forests and mountains looking like an escaped mental patient.
I hurry back to the room I woke up in, recalling the turns through the palace with surprising ease. My situational awareness feels heightened, the mental mapping automatic. Points to the wolfy in my brain.
I grab the wardrobe door, yanking it with more force than necessary. The wood splinters, the entire door ripping clean off its hinges with a crack that echoes through the room.
"Fuck."
I stare at the broken wardrobe, the heavy door dangling from my hand like it weighs nothing. The potted plant beside the wardrobe withers instantly, leaves curling and blackening like they've been hit with a blowtorch. I watch in horror as the destruction spreads from the roots upward, until all that remains is a husk of what had been vibrant greenery seconds ago.
"Double fuck."
I know what happens when I use my abilities. My power drains life from whatever's closest. Plants and people if there’s not enough life in the earth. I'm a fucking parasite. Guess it doesn’t matter what planet I’m on. Bad magick is bad magick.
"No powers," I remind myself. "Stay calm."
I return to my search with exaggerated care, moving slowly, keeping my strength in check. Everything is ridiculous. Flowing gowns with metalwork that probably weighs more than my GUIDE tactical gear, elaborate robes with elaborate beading, tunics made of fabric so fine it might as well be air. Medieval fantasy couture—beautiful, impractical, and utterly useless for what I need to do.
Not right, the wolf agrees, the first moment of synchronicity between us. At least we can align on proper attire for tracking a missing wolf prince through wilderness.
"Come on," I mutter, shoving aside yet another gala-worthy gown. "Just give me pants. Real fucking pants."
Finally, I unearth something almost normal. Dark leggings and a simple tunic in deep green. Not ideal, but I won't look like I'm heading to a medieval costume party. And it won’t get ripped to shreds as soon as I step off the road into the forest.
As I change clothes, my mind circles back to Frigga's revelation. A wolf. Inside me. Part of me. The voice in my head isn't madness… it's an actual separate consciousness. How did Odin just give me a wolf? Although perhaps knowing that I died and was brought back by a Norse god is a little more unsettling. Not sure.
