Page 80 of Fallen Gods
It was safer that way—wewere safer.
Another lie, because safety is nothing but an illusion in this world.
Now look at us.
Right back to where we started. Thrust together by two manipulative old men, though that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? They aren’t men. They’re Gods and Giants stranded in a world of mortals, imprisoned and angry, their power waning.
Desperate times. Desperate measures.
I step closer to his desk. “Nothing happens on this campus, in this state, without you having some hand in it.”
Sigurd smiles.
“Letting Odin or one of his minions force their way into Endir and drop his daughter here, and in all of my classes, no less.”
He doesn’t reply. I loathe his arrogant silence.
I wait him out. It’s obvious Sigurd has a plan. Rey wouldn’t have been admitted otherwise. My grandfather designed her schedule—or at the very least he’s turning a blind eye. What’s his angle?
He drums his fingertips along the desk, once, twice, each timelouder and more powerful than before, until tiny marks from his nails dent the wood.
“Would peace between the families be so bad?” he asks.
What a fucking lie. He never does anything that doesn’t benefit him, and Odin is the same. Peace? They aren’t after peace; they’re after power.
“An alliance of sorts? Think about it. I know I have. I’m getting old, Aric, and it’s time to pass the torch. You’ve been alone for so long, so why not take what’s been freely given to you?”
“I don’t need her.Wedon’t need her. And word of warning, I might actually end up killing her before the end of the semester.” Would that satisfy him?
He grins like I amuse him. “If killing came so easy to you, you would not have been the one chosen.”
Chosen? What is he talking about?
“Play nice in the sandbox, don’t forget to share your toys, and remember that we always keep our enemies close—so when the time is right to turn on them, we don’t have to chase.”
I get whiplash talking to him. “She’s living next door, so chasing won’t be a problem.”
His smile widens. Yeah. He planned that. “Let’s start thinking about next steps, shall we?”
“Next steps?”
“Graduation, your parents’ legacy, mine, your future, whatyouare.” He holds out his hand.
“Am I supposed to shake it or…?”
“Your vow that you’ll do everything in your power not to let me down—or let your parents down.”
I shake his hand. It’s cold as ice, just like his demeanor. Deep down, I know he cares. He’s just obsessed with his hatred for the Stjernes and the need for revenge for my parents’ deaths. I get it.
I tuck my hands deep into my pockets as I feel the tickle of ice forming along my fingertips.
His eyes zero in on my hands anyway. “A bit cold?”
Is he seriously in my head? “No, sir.”
“You’re dismissed.”
He turns his back to me. So much for asking about the rune burned into my skin. When Sigurd dismisses you, you’re dismissed.
