"I'm fine," I say, squaring my shoulders. Every muscle in my body feels coiled and ready, stronger than I've ever been. "Whatever you guys did. It worked and I will find him."
"How?" Eir challenges, skepticism evident in her narrowed eyes. "Our best men, best wolves, could not locate him. What makes you think you can?"
I feel the wolf stir at the challenge, bristling inside my mind. She doesn't like this woman questioning our abilities. Wait—our abilities? Shit. I'm already thinking like we're a team.
Eir steps forward, her clinical gaze sweeping over me. "Your body is still healing. The journey to find Prince Fenrir will not be easy. He has retreated deep into the mountains."
"I’m fine," I say, squaring my shoulders. I’m not about to let doctor-lady dictate what I can and can’t do. "Whatever you guys did. It worked and I will find him."
"How?" Eir challenges. "Our best men, best wolves, could not locate him. What makes you think you can?"
I hesitate, unwilling to admit that the voice in my head—the wolf Odin apparently dropped into my brain has zero doubts that she can find Fen.
As if she could hear my thoughts, Frigga's expression softens. "You can sense Fen, can't you? The wolf within you. Because you are soul mates."
“Frigga the soul mate magick is broken. She can’t,” the other woman says, her voice sounding very tired in that moment. “It’s not possible.”
Mate calls mate the wolf repeats in my mind.
"Shut up," I mutter before I can stop myself.
Frigga's eyebrows rise slightly, but she doesn't look surprised. "You're already communicating with your wolf. That's... impressive."
"It's not communication. It's an invasion," I snap. "I didn't ask for this."
"Few of us ask for the gifts—or burdens—the gods bestow," Frigga replies calmly. "Yet here you are."
I can't argue with that logic, as much as I want to. Instead, I focus on what matters. "I need to go to him."
The two women exchange a look I can't interpret. Finally, Frigga nods. "I will show you the way to the western gate. It's the most direct path to the mountains where he was last seen. But beyond that..." She shakes her head. "Fenrir has hidden himself well. Not even Heimdall's sight can penetrate the shadows where my grandson has retreated."
Great.
Eir leaves the room quietly and Frigga steps closer, lowering her voice. "My grandson believes you are dead. His grief is... consuming him. If you find him… be careful. He may not believe it’s you."
I think of Fen, of his golden eyes and the way he looked at me like I was something precious. There's nothing gentle about Fenrir Thorsson, but he’d never hurt me.
"I'll be careful," I promise anyway.
Eir returns to the room with a small pack. "Water. Some food," she explains, thrusting it at me. "Try not to die again."
"Thanks, I will do my best." I take the pack.
"This way," Frigga says, turning to lead me through the palace corridors.
I follow, hyperaware of every step, every movement. The wolf inside me practically vibrates with anticipation, pressing against my consciousness, making it hard to focus on anything but the need to run, to find Fen, to be free of these golden walls.
Patience, I tell it, unsure if it can understand me. Soon.
The pressure eases slightly. Progress, I guess.
Frigga leads us through a series of increasingly less ornate hallways until we reach a smaller side entrance to the palace.
"The western forest begins beyond those hills," Frigga says, pointing to a distant tree line visible beyond the city outskirts. "Follow this road until it forks beyond the edge of the market, then take the northern route. It will lead you toward the mountains where he was seen last."
I nod, committing the directions to memory. "Thank you."
I step outside the doorway and they close the gate softly behind me. A huge market sprawls before me, a riot of color and sound that assaults my senses with unexpected intensity.
