Page 91 of Veil of Blood and Bone

“Lay the same entitlement to her as you. Yes, she is a warrior of the highest caliber, but she will make a better wife to this Yarl than she will to you or them. It is her purpose, and it is my desire. You will mark it as you do everything else in existence.”

I flinched.

The argument scalded my throat, but it was too late. Nothing I said penetrated the thick wall the AllFather erected. His word was law, the mightiest of the Asgardians. And who was I? I was nothing.

I would be nothing more than my station and assigned only that title at his mercy.

I should have known how no amount of begging would sway him. His moods and whims were capricious, yet he condemned Loki for the same mercurial nature.

And I certainly should have known she would never agree to the match, to be stripped of her status and given away as a meager bride.

She was cursed, as well as me.

“No.” I stood, shoulders proud. “No more. She is mine.”

Odin considered me. “You would disgrace your position? My esteem?”

For her?

I had walked as a man, exiled from the god’s favor, wandering aimless. Then accepting the role. Now I wondered if it was better not to be found than to endure this.

There was nothing I could do to protect her. Nothing besides instinct and soul deep recognition, a knowing that I’d burn down whatever pantheon stands in my way before I let anything harm her.

I stood in the great hall with Odin before the air sucked free of the room, the two of us pulled into a vacuum of his magic.

Odin landed us in his great chamber of Valhalla with another laugh, this one darker and gruffer.

He clapped me on the shoulder and pushed me in front of him. “Then see what it is you’re choosing. What you have to lose.”

Magic drew his warriors to him, pulling them from their missions and leaving the souls of the worthy to perish and head straight down to Helheim.

“Hellevi!” The AllFather bellowed her name. “Step forward.”

She did so after only a brief hesitation with her chin lifted and golden hair obscured by a Valkyrie’s helmet. My heart gave a lurch to claw through my ribs and reach her.

I pulled free from Odin, and his sorcery stalled me in my tracks, pinned my lips shut.

Ek ann þér, Hellevi. I love you. She knew. She had to know.

Her gaze whipped to mine and lingered a second too long.

“Good news, child. I’ve changed my mind.” Odin held court.

A hush fell over the room.

Then the barriers melted. Valhalla faded away to a smaller hall with soot-darkened walls and a rough stone fireplace belching a paltry heat against the frigid north winter. At the head of the room stood a man in traditional ceremonial garb, his hands clasped in front of him.

A rust-stained sword hung from his belt, beard a tangle, braids decorated with small bones.

At Odin’s appearance, he collapsed to his knees.

My heart dropped with the motion.

“You will not serve as your sisters to guide the souls of the fallen. Instead, meet your husband to be. The petty feud between the Yarl and his enemy cost the lives of many innocents and has come to resolution thanks only to this man and his bravery.”

I shuddered. Yes, the feud ended, but what was the price? Was the price paid with people, and who started the argument in the first place?

The Yarl is unworthy.