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“Can souls reincarnate on their own?” she asked.
That was a random question. “Yes, though I couldn’t tell you how often or why. I’m not sure there’s anyone out there who could answer that. There are some mysteries to their world not even us gods know the answers to.”
She nodded, that contemplative look about her remaining in place.What had prompted this line of thought?Had she seen a soul that made her think this? I didn’t know how Valkyries touched souls, let alone how they saw them. I could see the strength of a warrior’s soul if I concentrated on them long enough, but I couldn’t touch them like Aya had figured out how to, or the way Valkyries did.
And Kirby hadn’t gone over the soul-collection part of Astrid’s training, as far as I knew. We’d focused more on making sure she was capable in a fight, and in control of her magic. But there had to be some sort of innate instinct for her to lean on when it came to souls.
That led my thoughts down to wondering if Kirby collected souls now. It was part of a Valkyrie’s purpose. At least, it had been for the Valkyries of the past. I remembered Valkyries becoming restless if too long of an interval had passed since their last collection.
But if Kirby and her Valkyries were collecting souls, where did they go? Valhalla? Odin didn’t oversee it anymore, with him dead, so I could see them being okay with sending the souls there. Or maybe she worked with Aya to send them to Fólkvangr.Who holds domain over Valhalla with Odin gone?
A whisper of a voice flitted through my mind.A prayer.For the first time in a long time, I listened. I listened to each word, as a warrior somewhere asked me for strength. I granted it, and a moment later, a pulse of power rushed through me. Nothing as strong as in the past, but it was something.
Another prayer came. A woman asking any god who could hear her for justice for her son’s death. The conviction of injustice in her words called to me. I answered her prayer.
More prayers flitted through my mind. Some I answered, others I didn’t. I listened to each one, regardless—until something tapped my arm.
I looked down at Astrid’s beautiful, soul-snaring eyes gazing up at me.
“Do you want to sit while you answer prayers?” she asked.
I realized we’d stopped walking and stood in front of a bench. How long had I been unaware of our surroundings? That’d never happened to me in the past. Though, with my Valkyrie here with me, I did feel more comfortable letting my guard down.
I took the invitation to sit. “How did you know I was answering prayers?”
“You always get this look.” Her expression changed to the most serious and almost grumpy I’d ever seen on her. “You have a serious case of resting bitch face when you answer prayers.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “I don’t look like that.”
“Oh yes, you do.” She made another serious face. “You normally look like this.”
I shook my head, still chuckling. I knew I had a rather serious look about my neutral expression, but I’d never had someone try to mimic it. Not even Astrid had in the past.
“You said I have this expression every time I answer prayers.” I regarded her for a moment. “I’ve never answered any in your presence since arriving here.”
She played with her fingers, her sudden shyness intriguing. “I remembered some things.”
Sliding my arm along the back of the bench, I leaned closer, though not too close as it would risk shutting her down. “How much have you remembered, Valkyrie?”
Her lower lips caught in her teeth, sending a pang of need through me. “Everything.”
That need heightened in intensity, though I did what I could to control it. Just because Astrid remembered didn’t mean, as Aya put it, that she would climb me like a tree. “And how are you feeling with all these memories?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Conflicted.”
I cocked my head and waited for her to continue in her own time.
“It’s been easy to accept the events as I see them. That’s been the only easy part of this memory stuff. It’s the emotional side that’s been difficult.”
She chewed on her lip some more. “There are times I can firmly say thoughts or emotions belonged to the past part of me, and do not belong to me, like my past acceptance of slavery or ambivalence of those who were not Norsemen. Then there are times those past feelings and thoughts belonged to past me, but I also find it easy to accept into my current life, like old friendships.”
Her lips pursed. “Then there are the ones I’m not so sure about—mostly emotions. They feel like mine at present, but also like mine of the past. But does that mean the past is influencing my present? And if so, are they really mine?”
It wasn’t hard to guess what she meant by these unspecified emotions. It was me. She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling were truly her feelings.
Astrid had always been an independent person, then and now. She wouldn’t like feeling like her emotions were being manipulated, even by herself.
“Do you agree with these emotions?” I asked.
