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“It is not his time, I imagine,” Eir replied.
“Or he is not meant for our worlds.”
That was the only rational answer. For, the warrior was the perfect kind for Odin’s Valhalla. So magnificent that the gods might fight for the right to have him.
But none of them had requested him like Odin had specifically requested Eir’s dark-haired brute. Often, the Valkyries made their own choices, both the men who got to live when they might have died, and the men who died and where they would be taken in the afterlife.
There was something about the golden warrior—Sorin, if Eir heard aright—that stopped her and her sisters from choosing him. As if he was bespelled by a protective magic.
Or, perhaps he was already marked for a different Fate.
Eir shrugged internally.
That man was not her concern. Nor was the man with the long black hair, who seemed not to have a single warrior’s bone in his body. Who appeared to be the golden one’s mate. He was not Eir’s concern either.
No.
She only had eyes for the rough, scarred berserker.
Mine.
The word reverberated through her mind like the growl of an ancient serpent.
She wantedthat one.
“Will you leave them to their Fate in the Dead Lands?” Mist interrupted her private thoughts once more.
Eir gave the question all due consideration. It would save time, she supposed. She could complete her task quickly and move on to the next.
But…
One, she hadn’t yet decided where to take the warrior when he died. If Freyja was to be believed, her choice mattered. Perhaps it even mattered a great deal, though Eir could not imagine why.
Second, a bold, proud warrior like Kai…he would want to die in glorious battle, not quietly subside in the middle of nowhere, sucked into the earth as if he never was.
Eir wanted him to have that. She wanted to see himroar.
Finally, there was something about the three men’s journey that intrigued her.
Where were they going? What were they looking for? And what would they find?
It was as if the Norns were whispering in her ear, telling Eir to wait. Be patient. Wherever their adventure took them, it was important that they reach the end.
And perhaps…Eir would even aid them.
“Not this time,” she finally replied, kneeing her steed into motion, navigating the treacherous descent from the mountaintop.
“Call for Rota,” she commanded.
“We will need her help if we are to see the men through the Dead Lands.”
“Even the donkey?” Mist asked after her.
Eir smiled slightly.
There she was. Her sister, the soft touch.
“Especially the donkey,” she promised.
