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“I’m fine—” he started.

“Drak.” My voice dropped.

Thumbing my jaw, he grunted. “I’ll be careful.”

“Your soul remembers being shattered,” I said.

“You fixed it.”

“But I don’t have Odin’s full power. We know that.”

Axel dared to interject. “It will take years for Lux to expand to Odin’s maximum power.”

We both looked at him in silence until I sucked in a breath. “Help Drak dethrone Silver, Axel, please. Promise me you’ll make sure my husband is safe.”

“Always,” he said as his eyes flicked to the man he considered his second son. Axel bowed again, but he didn’t leave. Rather than dismissing himself, he added, “I don’t mean to question the queen, but are you sure you’ll have enough help at the temple?”

I forced a watery smile. “Yes. Foresight has shown me when and where Silver plans to hold the sacrifice.” I knew precisely how many vampires would stay at the Hall of the Gods and how many would witness those sacrificed to Thor on a blood altar. “There are more villagers from Mara to face the vampires at the sacrifice. With the executioners, we’ll have enough.” I faced Drak. “You should have plenty from the other villages to get into the castle and dethrone Silver. She’ll have thirty vampires in the throne room. Fifty-one patrolling the grounds, including the ancient tunnels, and that only leaves fifteen more inside the castle. Once you breach it, you’ll overpower them‌. She’s sending about two hundred to the Hall.”

His throat bobbed. “If there’s more going to the temple, we should switch places. Let me deal with them.”

“Drak,” I said. “You know, when it comes down to it, I won’t be able to kill Silver. We’ve matched point by point before. Even seeing what’s coming… facing my sister disarms me in a way I can’t explain. Plus, you’re the king, and it’s your throne.” I glanced at Axel now, whose mouth twitched just enough to encourage me to say aloud what we all already knew, but we needed to hear it. I did, at least, to remind myself there was a purpose in our plan to split up. “The Iron Prophecy dictates you are the only one with the power to take it from her, thanks to the magic of Mjolnir. I’m taking the defected Grimward with me to the Hall, which means we’ll have less manpower but more warriors.” With my eyes on Drak, I lifted my chin. “I know it took me a long time to trust you, but right now, I need you to trust me that we’ll have enough support at the sacrifice.”

I’d said enough. Axel silently excused himself, and Drak raked his gaze over me. The decision was as final as the sun dropping below the horizon. Night had arrived, blanketing the outskirts of Old Skaldir with a quiet darkness that both soothed me and set my nerves alight as soon as I recognized the look in Drak’s eyes.

“It’s just like the night before the Battle of Sundered Sky,” he said.

“Don’t say that.” A quiver in my voice gave me away. I believed this too. This war was equally, if not more, dangerous than fighting the West Anglans. Not only would we face an army of vampires, but Silver remained a mystery to us all. Foresight gave me insight into her next steps, but it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t like knowing what she wanted. If she had a weakness—something she wanted beyond vengeance against the system that abused her—this would be easier. She didn’t even focus all her hate on me anymore. If she’d wanted to torment me more, she’d be coming straight for Laurella and Drak. Especially since she knew I couldn’t die now, and watching them ripped away from me would be the perfect torture.

Images of Drak’s flesh being flayed open and Silver reaching into his chest for his heart filled my mind. The worst thoughts overcame me. Even when I closed my eyes, I saw my mother burning alive.

Panic clawed up my throat, and breathing became impossible. My pulse slammed against my temples and my ears deafened to anything beyond the rising beat of my heart. Accepting who I was allowed me so much freedom from the effects of frayed nerves, but the panic attacks weren’t entirely gone.

Like a wild and furious horse, ugly thoughts reared back. What if they both died? What if I failed again? Somewhere, if my father were still alive, he’d be laughing at my weakness.

Drak toyed with the ends of my braid before playfully tugging the hair. The firm yank against my skull disrupted my downward spiral. Only my husband knew how to pry me out of the panic attack.

A wicked grin spread across his face. “Time to distract you, isn’t it?”

I chewed my lower lip and rolled my eyes to meet his gaze. “You always know.”

Without another word, he lifted my hand and flipped my palm up. He pressed his lips against the layers of scars, each one spelling the runes that saved his soul. His mouth followed a feathering trail up my arm. Carefully, he slipped the sleeve off my shoulder and kissed the crook where my collarbone met shoulder.

His hand slipped down over my breast, lightly dragging my dress down with it. With half my chest nearly exposed, his lips found the swell of my breast, but he didn’t go further. He snaked his hand through mine, clasping between my fingers and guiding me around the building, away from the blood, and into the shadow of the partial-walls.

A cool breeze brushed over my exposed chest, teasing the soft flesh with the rise of goosebumps. Drak glanced back, eyes roving over my breast, and flashing dark at the sight of the prickles.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he spun around and promptly swept me into his arms. “Let me warm you up and redirect your mind.”

Inside our ancient home, memories hung just beyond our senses like ghosts, representing every emotion. Rune and Myrah had lived it all here: the joy of fresh marriage, hope for a long life together, simple laughter over our experiences on the farm, admiration of the sagas I both recorded and read, and fear wrapped in sorrow. That was our final night here: a night of dread that one of us could die the next day.

But our last moments were relished, too, as we delighted in one another’s bodies and fell asleep with arms wrapped tightly, torsos curved together.

We’d fucked that night like it was our last, but we’d returned. We had another chance at life together. My thighs were slick with wanting at the memory of how he’d gripped my throat and teased me just as I’d begged him the first time we set up camp in Old Skaldir.

With his palm splayed between the dimples at my lower back, he laid me on the ground before him. The wasteland’s hard-packed earth had softened and given way to nature. Spongy green blanketed the missing floor of our home and melded into a slight dip where I lay. His greedy exploration became more aggressive as he shoved the collar of my dress to the bottom of my ribs and, at the same time, pushed my skirts up.

“I need you,” I breathed.