Page 122 of Storm of Fury
Bryn shook her head. “It is forbidden. I am in exile. Shamed.”
A glimmer of fury burned within his chest like a hot coal. “If they were truly your family then they would not have rested until you were granted true justice.”
“Those may be your rules, Tormund, but they are not mine. Those that are mortal born must fight to enter Valhalla and earn our wings. Once I was cast out, then my sisters would have lost everything if they risked contacting me.”
He bit his tongue on the reminder that she was only half-Valkyrie. It was clear which side she rejected and which side she yearned for.
But could he blame her?
Her mortal father had cast her out when she was barely old enough to survive. Only with her mother had she found… something.
“It sounds like you take the scraps of acceptance they grant you and deem it love,” he muttered. “But that’s not love, Bryn. If Haakon and I were in the same situation and he was cast out for a crime he didn’t commit, then I would tear Valhalla apart to get him back. It wouldn’t matter how much it cost me. True love has no cost. It has no price it won’t pay.”
Bryn pushed to her feet and paced past him. “You don’t understand. They fight to protect the world from Ragnarök. It is a god’s calling, a sacred duty—”
“And that’s what you want?”
“Yes, it’s what I want.” There was a fierce glow of hope in her eyes. “Solveig gave me the signed letter from Róta, confessing to my mother’s murder. Once this job is done, then I can clear my name. I can rejoin my sisters. I can leave this plane.”
Every inch of his heart felt like lead in his chest.
But to argue with her, to try and demand that she stay with him—that she choose him above her immortal sisters—would only shatter the pair of them.
She wasn’t human, not truly.
And he could see the way her hope breathed new life into her veins. She’d been cold and ruthless when they first met, like a wolf cub savaged by the hardest of winters. She’d been lost and lonely, her heart battle-scarred and heavy.
But this was spring settling over her heart.
He could see it in her eyes. See it in her sad smile. See it in the breathless way she trembled as she told her story. Maybe it was a poor facsimile of love that she strove for, but it was all she had.
And if he didn’t let her go, then that glow would fade.
Her smile would vanish, perhaps forever.
And she would always carry this wound deep inside her.
“Then I will help you.” Those simple words were the hardest he’d ever had to say. “Once we have found our missing princess, then I will see you to Valhalla. I will help you find your redemption.”
Bryn’s gaze focused upon him as if she’d woken from a dream. “You don’t have to do that. I’m the one repaying my debt here. Not you.”
“You owe me nothing. And I will help you”—because I love you—“because you are my friend, my lover.”
“And what of us?”
“There is no us.”
She’d made that clear, and until she had confronted her past, there could never be a future for them.
Bryn fell into silence, as if he’d somehow stolen the words from her tongue. “To finding a missing princess,” she finally whispered, “and then Valhalla.”
Twenty-Three
The following afternoon,Bryn knelt, pressing her fingers into an indentation in the snow. She glanced up at the sky and the soft flakes drifting from heavy clouds. It had been snowing steadily all morning, which meant the Keepers weren’t far ahead.
“They’re barely an hour ahead of us, I think. And moving fast.” She roved forward, finding the bare footprints of thedrekiprincess. The horse at her side snorted, its breath blowing hot in the chill air. “Hers are shallower. Despite her bare feet, she’s somehow managing to stay just ahead of them.”
Every now and then the princess’s trail disappeared, but the Keepers pressed on—perhaps guided by some invisible force—and invariably, after a mile or two, she would find trace of Ishtar.
