“Don’t defend him, Rowen. It only makes me want to punch you, and I actually like you. Can we be done with this conversation? I’m doing the best I can, but it’s beentwo days. I can’t really skip around campus asking questions, and getting close to the Erikson heir hasn’t exactly been a thrill.”
Aric’s hostile.
Angry.
A dangerous bottle of uncontrollable emotion that could break at any time.
“Do you feel anything…” My voice trails off. “Different at Endir, I mean. I know you’ve always had your secrets, but do you feel weaker here? More unbalanced? From Sigurd’s power? The ridiculous amount of runes?”
Rowen looks down at the ground and tenses. “You’ve seen my scars. Since I set foot on campus, they burn as if they’re brand-new cuts, Rey. How’s that for different?” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry, you didn’t deserve that.”
I stare at his right arm. It looks like someone raked their nails down his skin, trails leading up to his fingertips scarred so severely, he almost looks like a burn victim. “The Eriksons, their entire bloodline, will pay for what they did to you.”
He doesn’t flinch, but I see the rage in his eyes, rage from a lost war, lost family—lost everything. “It’s deeper than that, and you know it. You need to work faster. Aric isn’t an idiot, and neither is his grandfather. Odin and Sigurd were at war for millennia. Being trapped here may have kindled some temporary ceasefire, but that’s all it is. There will never be peace.”
His words leave me feeling hollow.
“They’ve let you into their world for now, and they might be content to toy with you and play nice for a little while. But don’t make the mistake of thinking the Giants are weak. Tread carefully and move fast.”
Helpful.
“You’re Odin’s daughter. Mjölnir should be drawn to you.”
I know all of these things, but hearing them repeated out loud makes my task feel so much more daunting. I toss my phone on the bed and pull my hair back into a low bun. “Odin says you have a claim to the same bloodline through your family, though diluted. So why won’t it react to you, too?” I finish my hair and cross my arms. “It would be a lot easier to tag team this, you know.”
He licks his lips. Something he does when he’s buying time to think about his answer—because he never just reacts. Always assesses first. “I wish it did. But what little trace of Odin is left in my blood isn’t enough to wield the most powerful weapon in the world. The accident ruined me—I bled out so much thatsometimes I wonder if the part that mattered is still even there.” His face darkens. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve never told me, and maybe it could be helpful to talk about it.”
“It won’t be.” He shakes his head. “I’ve already lived through enough trauma for a lifetime, Rey.”
“I didn’t mean to dredge up—”
“Forget it,” he says quickly, walking over to the window, body tense.
I know he’s scarred, inside and out. Though it shouldn’t, it makes me think of Aric. Losing his parents. Being struck by lightning in that freak accident.
“How many volts are in an average bolt of lightning?” I ask Rowen.
He whips around, nostrils flaring like the question pisses him off. He quickly recovers and rubs his eyes. “Sorry, I’m tired and not used to you asking questions that have nothing to do with revenge, fighting, death, or fries. Plus, I’m exhausted over Odin’s Mjölnir obsession. I get why we need it, but it’s not…his.”
“I mean, technically it’s his. My father’s the one who had the hammer crafted.”
Rowen’s still rubbing his eyes, but his back stiffens, his hands balling into fists. Concerned, I reach for him. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”
In an instant, he has me pushed up against the wall, his hand at my neck while my feet dangle in the air. I tug at his hand, panicking, needing air. What is going on? He’s never once tried to hurt me.
“Rowen,” I choke. “Rowen!”
His eyes are fathomless, like dark holes, before he leans in and runs his nose up and down my neck. His voice is raspy. “It isn’t Erikson’s or Odin’s! It was gifted to the most powerful God in the realm, and I’m fucking tired of people ignoring his sacrifice!”
“Put.” I kick at his legs. “Me.” I kick harder. “Down.”
If I don’t get through to him soon, I’m going to pass out.
I’m going to die.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
