No.
Reeve holds the blade steady at Aric’s neck. “Tick, tock, little goddess.”
Aric’s eyes plead with mine. “Don’t be…afraid.”
My body trembles, my teeth chattering. “Aric.” Tears fall. I don’t think I can do this.
“I believe.” His smile is calm. “In you. You know where it is. Do what he’s asking. Get Mjölnir.”
“Yes,” Odin agrees. “Listen to him. Hurry now. The Giant doesn’t want to die. Bring me the hammer and I will lift his chains, allow him to heal.”
Aric’s gaze is steady on mine. His beautiful mouth curves for a second.
This isn’t about me saving him.
Aric knows my father will never lift those chains. Will never spare him or set him free.
He’s telling me to find the hammer. Because he wants me to fight.
Because he believes in me.
“Swim into the storm, Rey.” Aric’s eyes lock onto mine. “Finish this with me.”
He means swimming by myself into the dark. He means doing this without him, without anyone but myself.
He said I could save myself.
I want to believe him.
I want to believe that heroes exist and that I can be my own.
But when faced with certain death, I only feel weak.
“Untie her!” Father commands.
Aric clenches his jaw and nods one more time. “I believe in you.”
Runes light up and down his body as he flicks his wrist, creating an icy path from him all the way to the stairs and down into the water. He’s using his power to light the way. “I’ll be right by your side.”
Ice suddenly wraps itself around my hand.
I know with each use of his power, he loses more.
With each loss, he draws closer to death.
And still he chooses to hold my hand as I walk into the unknown.
I open my hand to his cold. I embrace it. I breathe it in.
“Destiny awaits, daughter of Odin.” Reeve grins as Rowen releases my chains. He leans closer, sword still held taut, and whispers, “Swim fast.”
“I hate you.”
His foot comes out, kicking me hard in the knee, and I buckle.
I hit the icy path with a thud. Reeve laughs, and the rest of the men join in as Rowen curses. But while I’m on the ground, my eye catches on something. It’s glowing faintly. The rune of the serpent, etched into a stone smaller than my palm. As I lift myself back to my feet, I grab it.
“If I were you?” Father nods at me. “I’d hurry.”
