Page 78 of Soul of Fire

Arik

Isatback,frowningat the old woman as Eisa looked at me plaintively.

“I…it…” She shook her head as if unsure how to explain what had happened to Sigrid. “It’sinme.”

Sigrid was certainly Völva. I wasn’t sure how Baldur hadn’t sensed it when we had first happened upon Henrik’s. She must have somehow masked the tang of magic that clung to her now. A sense of something ancient and not quite human radiated out from all three of the women.

“Inyou?“ Sigrid raised a shockingly silver brow.

“There was an attack at the Rift,” I said, not sure how else to explain what had happened. “Eisa somehow closed a portion of it with whatever power was in the necklace.”

“It sort of melted into me,” Eisa placed a hand over her heart. “Here. It left a diamond-shaped scar.”

I reached into my tunic to pull out the tiny crystal gem that lay against my breast. “But we have this one. My mother’s.”

“Ah.” Sigrid sat back, a look of triumph on her ancient face as her eyes landed on the blue stone.

“Well, it is always so gratifying to be right. May I?”

She reached out a hand for the necklace, and Eisa and I glanced at each other in mutual frustration. I wished I could reach her mind-to-mind, but there was still a blank hole of nothingness where that bridge had been, not a trace of Baldur anywhere.

“You’re not angry?” Eisa asked, her brow furrowed as she regarded the old woman.

“Of course not, child. It was bound to happen eventually.” Sigrid examined my mother’s necklace from every angle with a look of awe. “Where did you say your mother got this, boy?”

She looked at me, and I shook my head. “She didn’t say. Didn’t have time to explain.”

I could still her hear scream as they dragged me away.

“Interesting” Sigrid murmured, closing her fist around the gem and holding it out to Eisa. “It’s for you, child.”

Eisa pushed her hand back. “It’s Arik’s. His mother’s. Not the one you gave me, Mormor.”

“I know, child. I’m not completely senile.” Sigrid rolled her eyes irritably. “Buthecan’t do anythingwith it.Youcan.”

“Take it,” I told Eisa as Sigrid forced it back toward her. With some reluctance, she placed the chain around her neck. A sense of rightness filled me, and I wondered why I had held on to the damned thing so long. “What is it, Sigrid? What was bound to happen?”

“Goodness boy, do you know none of your history?” Sigrid looked at me expectantly, and I chafed a bit at being repeatedly called ‘boy.’ “You must know about the Tears of Elysia, being a prince and all.”

I blinked, my patience beginning to fray. “I’m no prince.”

“But you were. Recognized you as soon as you marched into Henrik’s place, and I decided I wanted you for my Eisa.”

I choked on a laugh. Baldur would have alotto say about Sigrid taking credit for his discovery of our mate, but I decided it wasn’t worth getting derailed again. Every answer resulted in about fifteen more questions with Sigrid, and we had enough to be going on with.

“I don’t know the story.” I shook my head, looking around at the three priestesses.

They all frowned at each other, as if this surprised them.

“Unbelievable. You tell it then, Amaya, lest I cough to death,” Sigrid commanded. “And listen well, boy, because I expect you to tell it to others when I am gone.”

Eisa let out a small, choked noise as she grabbed Sigrid’s hand in hers.

“Well, let me see. Where to begin,” Amaya said thoughtfully, still stirring the soup in the great cauldron. “I suppose we must begin with the creation, really.”

“Blessed Mother, this story will take hours if you go all the way back to creation,” Freya barked, taking the spoon from Amaya and stirring violently, as if the soup had personally offended her. “Start with the Rift.”

“Yes, alright,” said Amaya good-naturedly, clapping her hands together once. “Well, if you recall, eons ago, a Rift in the Odemark was opened.”