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“Astrid,” a deep, gravelly voice murmured. “Astrid, please calm.”
Diego…It was that special voice of his. One he didn’t use often, only when he really wanted to tease me or make sure he had my full attention. The way it wreaked havoc on my brain and made me weak in the knees, it was like he knew.
But instead of making me weak, it wrapped around me like strong arms lifting me up from a fall into a dark abyss.
My scream died. My ears rang in the sudden silence, and my sore throat struggled with the hard, gasping breaths I sucked in and out.
Diego murmured my name again in my ear, sometimes saying something in Spanish, drawing me further and further out of the darkness. My senses returned, and I realized there was more than him to the comforting pressure surrounding me.
Angel pressed against my chest, her head squeezed between my arm and neck. Diego wrapped his arms protectively around me, one of his hands on my head while his body shielded me from something. My wings had spread, like a curtain.
Tyr, Kirby, and Aya hovered over me, their arms extended with shields as a wall. And even Fen had transformed and loomed over us.
A warm breeze blew through the room, and my gaze fell to the shattered glass all over the floor, glittering in the sun.
My hands slid from my hair, and as the sensation of pain splintered through my chest, I wrapped my arms around Angel. I sobbed into her fur, tears trailing down my cheeks.
He’s gone…
I cried for a man my past knew. I cried for a man my present would never reconnect with again. I cried for all the unspoken words, now never to be said.
I cried as a piece of my heart withered and died.
Here, in this room, filled with those who would do anything to protect me, I made no attempts to hide my vulnerability. I didn’t try to stop the tears just so they wouldn’t fuss.
I embraced this breaking pain until I couldn’t cry anymore.
Diego rubbed my back when I’d been reduced to sniffles. No one said anything, allowing me time to express my grief—and my building rage.
“How?” I croaked out. I cleared my throat. “How did he die?”
Gods were immortal, and while not invincible, they were tougher than the average immortal. It took a major act to kill one.
“We should get you out of this mess first,” Aya said, brushing off glass shards from her shoulders.
“Tell me how!” I snapped.
She flinched. Any other moment, I would have regretted my harsh command. But the anger that had replaced the despair overpowered such typical responses in me.
“Loki,” Tyr said.
“Loki,” I murmured. “Just like in the myth.”
“For the most part,” Tyr said. “It wasn’t at some banquet, though. He took notice of my and Baldur’s activities when we were searching for you, and laid a trap. We thought we’d found two possible strong cases of you being alive, and split up to check.”
He bowed his head. “When I realized my lead was a clear ruse, I rushed to Baldur, but I was too late. I’m sorry, Valkyrie.”
It wasn’t his fault. If anyone was to blame, it was me. They wouldn’t have been caught that way had I not died.
“Why did he do it?”
“We’re not entirely clear on that,” Kirby said. “He’s proud of what he did, going as far as naming his organization after the deed.”
“What is this organization called?”
“The Order of Mistletoe, or TOM for short. They claim they try to prevent prophecies from coming true, their ultimate goal being the prevention of Ragnarök. But they’re only in it for themselves, and actively impede our efforts to prevent the end of the world.”
“He’ll pay for what he did.” My hands curled into fists. “I’ll see to it that Baldur is avenged. I swear it.”
