Chapter Seventy-Four
Rey
“Respectfully.” Ziva clears her throat, then points up at my father while we all find a circular table to sit at near one of the bonfires. “And I mean respectfullyyyyyy.” She draws out the word. “Daddy Odin is hot.”
“Nope!” I hold up my hands while Reeve makes a gagging noise and Rowen chokes on a laugh. Aric puts a hand on my thigh and squeezes, holding me in place. He knows me too well. I want to run in circles and then tell her all the reasons she shouldn’t think that.
“What?” Ziva shrugs. “I’m just saying, the guy has this aura, and he has really intense eyes like he’s seen things, controlled things—how does he feel about younger women?”
“How do you feel about death?” Reeve asks cheerfully. “Because he’s more likely the type to kidnap you and leave you on the side of the road for sport.”
“I can handle myself.” Ziva grins.
And just like I’ve conjured up the devil himself, my father comes walking toward us. It was different when he was texting me, when he was out of sight, out of mind. Now, it’s harrowing.
I don’t feel so brave anymore.
I feel less than clever.
I’m small.
I’m just a girl wishing her dad said he was proud, a girl trying to prove herself to a man who will never approve of her or love her. A man who hurts her instead.
I keep my eyes focused on him, my posture straight.
Don’t break. Please, Gods, don’t break. Not now.
I can do this.
“Ahh.” He suddenly smiles and looks over my head. “There she is.”
Laufey is approaching us, her hands hidden beneath black bandages. Her jet-black hair runs in smooth braids down her back, her beautiful brown skin shimmering in the moonlight.
Her eyes meet mine. “Rey.”
I get up and walk over, pulling her in for a quick hug and even quicker kiss on each cheek. When I face my father, I do the same, and I feel like puking.
“Are you enjoying your evening?” He’s not just asking me.
“Yes, sir.” Reeve salutes him. “My favorite part was when Sigurd released the ravens. What about you?”
Father’s eye twitches. “Had he done it right, I might have been impressed.”
Reeve grins. “It looked right to me, but memory’s kind of fuzzy when it comes to ancient texts. Not much of a reader, anyway, plus Odin was way too emotionally attached to those birds.”
“Who are you again?” Father asks. He nods as several men in suits make their way over to him. A few glare at Reeve but do nothing. “Do enjoy your evening. I’m sure I’ll see you later, Rey.”
“Yes.” I can barely find my voice as I sit back down between Aric and Ziva.
“Come,” he commands Laufey. She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes once before obeying.
The moment he walks off, everyone looks at me like I’ve just grown three heads.
Rowen is the first to speak. “You okay?”
“I need some air.” I shove back from the table and walk a few feet away, a panic attack imminent. I can feel it. I know we’re outside, but I need to walk. I take off, heading away from the bonfires.
Suddenly, someone’s rubbing my back. When I look over my shoulder, I find that it’s Rowen, staring straight ahead. “Everything will go just like we planned, Rey.”
He followed me. What plan? What is he talking about?
“I’ll distract as many as I can while you run off. Eira’s going to help and—”
I jerk my head toward him. “Since when?”
“What?”
“Since when did you ask Eira for help?”
He reels back. “Um, since I figured a hot girl throwing herself at Reeve might actually distract him enough not to shadow your every move.”
My stomach sinks. “What did you tell her?”
“That Odin’s a God,” he says with a smirk. “Relax. I told her I needed her help and that I would really appreciate it, and she said okay.”
“Sexual favors?”
“No. But I did promise I’d help her pass bio. Are you done interrogating me now? We have more important things to worry about, like unlocking the last rune, setting a Giant into the wild, and hoping he leads you to Mjolnir, all without anyone finding out.”
“Right.” I huff out an exhale. “You’re right.”
“You’re making the best choice.”
I am. He just doesn’t know that my choice has nothing to do with giving my father Mjolnir and everything to do with trusting Aric.
I glance over at Odin.
Mjolnir is rightfully his—ours—but he doesn’t deserve it. “Did he really burn the entirety of Jotunheim to the ground, Rowen?”
“Yes.”
“And worlds before it?”
“He only killed those who wouldn’t bow.”
I smile. “I thought the Giants were peaceful?”
He scowls. “I thought Gods were good?”
Touché.
People start getting up from their tables. I slowly make my way back toward Aric, pushing the crowd with my Aethercall for good measure. “Now’s as good a time as any,” I say quietly when I reach him.
“Agreed,” he says gruffly.
As the others run ahead of us, we fall into step together, shoulders brushing. The drums fade as the forest closes around us, shadows thickening, the air colder.
The minute the canopy swallows the torches, I tug at Aric’s sleeve. I dart my eyes once toward the others, then back to him. Without a word, I pull him sideways, shuffling us into a group of revelers before yanking him deeper into the trees.
The crowd’s noise muffles, fading into the distance until all that’s left is the sound of our breathing and the crunch of frost beneath our boots.
We run. Away from the laughter. Away from the bonfires. Straight into the kind of darkness that feels like it was waiting for us.