Chapter Forty-Three
Aric
A Giant.
I exhale when she says the word. There’s power in someone knowing who you are, in someone confirming your truth. A smile curves my lips. “What gave it away? The lightning? The frost? Both?”
Every muscle trembles beneath my skin, my body still recovering from losing control, from the anger and the storm that followed.
When I thought I was going to lose it in front of Professor Higgins, it was Rey who reined me in.
Her kiss, her voice, everything she did tethered my emotions in a way that kept me present, kept me calm enough to hold it together, at least temporarily.
“Wow.” For just a second, her expression shows surprise, but then she grins. “Thank you for the confirmation.”
I shrug. Hiding is so fucking exhausting. “It’s not really a secret what I am—at least not to you.” Then why do I suddenly feel thrilled to be seen? “I mean, maybe to the outside world, but you are Odin’s daughter.”
Which makes this whole situation so much worse.
I should’ve let her burn. I should’ve felt no emotion. But she tried to protect me in my grandfather’s office and again when we entered the woods. Most would have let me destroy myself.
When my control broke and lightning struck the tree, my instinct was to protect her. So I did. I just reacted.
I told Sigurd to give me another chance to prove my loyalty to the family, to do what I couldn’t two years ago—and first chance I got, I saved my enemy.
But seen another way, maybe I didn’t waffle on my vow. I protected Rey—because she’s a means to an end.
My powers are unlocking, and the runes lighting up my back are proof of that.
For some reason, she seems to be the key.
If I can control it, maybe I can channel it toward Odin and kill him once and for all.
Wouldn’t that be sweet justice? Using his daughter to ultimately destroy him seems fair to me.
I glance at her. She’s hugging her arms around herself. And suddenly, it feels like my heart has cracked in two.
I’m not sure what I’ve said or done to make her eyes cast down and her lower lip tremble. Not two minutes ago, she was boldly saying she needed me. Well, I guess technically, I did almost kill her, so that might’ve done it? Delayed response to nearly dying, maybe?
She bites down on her lower lip, and then in the next second, she’s composed again. Maybe not dressed in posh clothes with her hair all sleek and makeup on, but even without that, her armor’s back in place. I’m almost glad for it.
The thought of Rey Stjerne crying is a terrifyingly sad thing.
Shit.
It would mean she was finally broken.
It would mean I had a part in the breaking. Why does that make my heart clench? Why is hating her getting harder and harder the more time I spend with her?
Other students thread around us on the path. My shirt’s torn. She has mud on her clothes and leaves in her hair. We’re both a mess. Funny thing, though—no one seems to notice.
“You said you need me, Rey. You planning to elaborate?”
She grabs my arm and pulls me past the library, down the trail, until we’re alone again.
The wind bites colder here, moonlight bleeding through the trees.
But the storm has passed—both the one above us and the one in me.
She stops by the old oak near Dallas Hall, the bark covered with carvings of students’ initials—all except one that’s in the very middle.
Hagalaz—it stands out because it’s larger, but also because nobody dares draw anywhere near it.
I don’t know why, but I feel drawn to it, like it’s familiar to me for some reason.
“What does that one mean?” Rey asks, watching my interest. She points at Hagalaz. “Isn’t your grandfather some sort of rune expert?” Her eyes are sharp, searching.
I swallow, jaw tight. “You tell me. You’re the one with all the answers, right?”
“Not all of them.” She steps closer, lowering her voice. “We need to test it. To see what it does to you.”
My laugh is hollow. “Because lightning strikes and burning trees aren’t enough experiments for one night?”
“Aric.” The seriousness in her voice draws my attention, and our gazes collide. “I need to show you something.”
She takes out her phone, goes around to my back.
“Stand still.”
I frown. “What’s this really about? Why do you need me?”
She’s in front of me again, holding up her phone. She doesn’t flinch when she says, “I need to know if there’s a reason I have a note from the only woman who’s ever acted like a parent to me that matches these.”
On her phone is a photo of my back. With a new rune tattooed next to the first one.
The blood in my veins turns to ice.
Rey continues. “Before school started, before I was given my assignment by my father, she secretly handed me a note, risking a lot, probably even her life. I need to know if it’s connected, and if it is… Are you with me?”
“You’re going to have to give me more than that, Rey.”
“The thunder.” She locks eyes with me. “The lightning storms, the frost, all of it—what if I can tell you it’s connected and that I can help. Will you help me?”
The words scrape at me. Because I want it to be that simple—and it isn’t. I expected a fight, half-truths made to look like reality. “You want me to trust you?”
She nods slowly.
I’d laugh, but nothing about this is funny.
“And does this trust extend both ways?” I eye her carefully.
“It will.”
Hmm. “I’ll help you,” I finally force out. It’s the best I can do. “For now. But I need something in return.”
Her brow arches. “Nothing’s free, Giant.” Her smile is unguarded, stunning. I almost stumble backward in disbelief. How can a simple smile unarm me that much?
I look away. “I want answers Sigurd won’t outright give.
I want to know the real reason behind the runes on my back.
I want to know what my parents died for, because no chance in hell was it an accident, and you know it.
” She says nothing. “I’m changing, becoming something different,” I admit.
“Before, I could control myself. But it’s nearly impossible to keep up now, and with the runes—well, you saw what just happened back at that tree. ”
Her lips part, then curve into something that looks too much like pity. “Is this where I’m supposed to tell you that you’re a special sort of Frost Giant and give you a high five and pat on the ass?”
I bark out a laugh, but it sounds wrong in my own ears. “Work on your bedside manner, doc. And I don’t know. Whatever power’s inside of me, I just need to understand what it is.” I know I’m being vague, but trust isn’t something I can just turn on at will.
It’ll have to be earned.
I look away, jaw grinding. Focus. “And you? What do you want?”
She hesitates, eyes glinting in the moonlight before she finally answers.
“My theory? You actually have five runes on your back, but only two are unlocked right now, so you can see them. Each one that unlocks wakes up your sleepy-powerful self a little more. Until your power’s unleashed fully and you either go boom”—she flicks her hand like an explosion—“or you’re finally free. ”
My heart pounds double-time at her words. It’d either be my end…or my new beginning.
“After that,” Rey continues with a nonchalance I know can’t be real, “you’ll know exactly where to find it—my reward.”
My gut knots. “Find what exactly?”
Her arms cross over her chest as she leans against a tree. Calm. Deadly. “The most powerful weapon in the world. Something that was stolen from us. Something I need to get back in order to save the people I love.”
I freeze. “The most powerful weapon in the world?”
And she what? Is just going to keep it and never use it? I know she wants my trust, but this is too much.
She nods, eyes sharp. “My weapon. My family’s weapon.
One that was stolen during a bloody war both of our families were tangled in.
Mjolnir’s been hidden away, and your runes, I think…
they’re the map. Except someone locked you down.
As long as you stay quiet, controlled, normal, the perfect weapon stays hidden, too. ”
The words crush me, heavier than the storm still growling above.
“And what if I’m not a weapon?” I whisper. “What if I’m the opposite of everything you need? What if I’m the villain? The monster?”
Rey’s composure slips. “Then I guess we face it head-on. Together. Besides, we’re all born with a little bit of monster inside us. Who says that’s a bad thing? Something has to save us from ourselves.”
Her mouth tilts, the faintest hint of a smile appearing on her lips. I like it more than I know I should, how easy and pretty it is, how desperately I suddenly want to be the reason for it.
“And it’s not Hyde that does the saving. It’s Jekyll.”
Her words hang in the air, as dangerous as they are comforting.
And I don’t know if the storm inside me is fear…or hope.