Page 74 of Valkyrie Confused

“I do. You betrayed our maker.” But his eyes are red rimmed, begging me to stop him.

And I’m definitely getting woozy. I still claw at Arnlaug’s arms, but my limbs feel made of lead.

“Arnlaug, this isn’t you.” Pan’s voice brings a sob to my lips. He’s alive. At least, he’s alive. “Let him go,” he says.

Him?

He’s talking to Odin, not Arnlaug. Pity. I’d appreciate it if he made Arnlaug let me go.

Odin chuckles. “Who is going to make me? You?”

Lightning turns night into day, long enough to blind me.

Lightning in a cave?

Whatever it was, it loosens Arnlaug’s hold enough for me to suck in a shaky breath. I blink rapidly, to clear my eyesight, but the edges of my field of vision remain frayed.

My wings jerk uselessly behind me, the jagged surface of the rocks digging into them. Can I fly? Why would I have them if they’re not useful? Unless… Are Valkyries maybe like chickens?

Hypoxia is making me stupid.

Makes me hallucinate too, because I hear a man say, “He’s not alone.”

Odin snorts. “Freyr. You were never much of fighter.”

“But I am.” I don’t recognize this voice, either, and Arnlaug’s bulk is blocking my line of sight. I do hear growling and thudding and a horrifying howl.

Even with my vision blurring, I see a redhead with a scarred face clutch at his arm. “I told you before, your loyalties are messed up,” she tells him.

Who is she? Why does she look familiar?

My breath wheezes out. Arnlaug isn’t squeezing hard enough to cut off my air supply, but breathing hurts.

The woman meets my gaze, and nobody has ever felt more real. She was in my Valkyrie dream. She fought Arnlaug. Was there when his arms were nearly severed.

Sistermy soul cries. She’s a Valkyrie too.

Arnlaug lets go with one hand, but my relief is short lived when I see it turn into a clawed bear paw.

“No,” I cry.

Arnlaug pulls his elbow back and thrusts forward, as if to drive his claws into my chest, but the redhead shakes her head and raises one hand, and he stops mid-motion. From how the tendons in his neck stick out, he’s fighting her hold on him.

“I can stop him. Get you out of here,” she tells me. “But only you can free him.”

“How?” I barely have the strength to voice the question.

“You’re a Valkyrie. Feel his soul.”

“Astrid, behind you.” A man’s voice I don’t recognize reaches my ears, and the redhead ducks out of sight.

With her gone, there’s nothing holding Arnlaug back.

Before he can resume his attack, I press my palm to his paw and seek for that place inside me that recognized the woman—Astrid. The place that knew Kirby was a Valkyrie.

The place that causes wings to pop out of my shoulders.

The ball of power in my belly is so potent, I don’t know how I failed to notice it till now. It holds within it ancient magic and modern knowledge and—most of all—the ability to collect the souls of warriors.

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