Page 75 of Veil of Blood and Bone

But I see it.

And still, fucking Forest got to taste her first. If this were a competition, he’d be in the lead. Forest doesn’t even know enough to feel guilty about it.

Lucky bastard.

Helene lifts her gaze, a phantom grin flashing over her mouth before she turns to Nicholas. “You don’t really say much.”

I take an innocent sip. “Perhaps he needs more coffee.”

It gets worse the more I drink. Nicholas seems to have drawn the same conclusion from his quick sniff earlier.

Although he prowls the kitchen, I know. There is no place we’d rather be than with her. We’ve already slipped into the ease of the interaction, one she doesn’t notice. Yet.

She will.

“So Kali sent a troll—” she starts.

“Kari. The Norse god of the north wind,” Nicholas says through clenched teeth.

“Kari,” Helene forces out the word, “sent a troll to kill me.”

I brush my knee to hers again. “Not Kari. Odin.”

She shivers at the name. “You speak like the gods exist.”

Nicholas stalks the kitchen like a caged animal. “Because they do.”

Too much Helene and too little space

We don’t have enough time. If this cycle is speeding up then we have to get Helene on board with us, without her thinking we do belong in a psychiatric facility.

Odin and the Norns, King Draven and the dark Fae...The walls of this world, our prison, were closing in.

The curse made sure there was no escape.

“No. I’m going to go along with this insane assumption that the gods are real—” Helene lifts a finger, “only for the extent of this conversation.”

“Lovely,” I agree, flashing teeth.

“Why would Odin want to send a troll? Was he responsible for the first one as well?”

“He sent them for you, monster. Because he knows where you are now.”

Finally, a better question, so much better than the surface level ones she flung at us earlier. Unfortunately, these are the answers designed to rattle the foundation of her world.

The responses aren’t easy. Helene stares between the two of us. And damn, Nicholas needs to stop pacing.

“You’re giving me a headache,” I call out.

He brushes the opposite wall, the faded wallpaper peeling along the top of the panel. It spurs him back toward us. He makes it to the edge of the table before reversing his course.

“Good.”

Helene hasn’t touched her coffee. “Does anyone want more?”

“No.” I’m quick to answer for us both. “Thank you. You've done enough.”

“Why would Odin want to come after me?” She asks the question but not to either of us. More to herself. “I’m nothing. I’m no one special.”