Seela sipped audibly from the tankard before setting it down in her lap. “Perhaps they are afraid of her.”
“I’m afraid of her,” he admitted, matching her drinking pace. “Jormungand gave us no trouble when we arrived, yet almost tore us apart to get to her. There will be more to fear than sea serpents when we leave this realm.”
Her lips pinched, souring his expression. “Perhaps those with Aesir blood are simply drawn to the power inside her the same way you are, Vali. Even monsters can descend from gods as you know all too well.” She leaned back in the leather armchair, worn for long conversations such as this one. “No, Vali. You are not afraid ofher.You are afraid of what she makes you feel.”
He spit half a sip of mead across his desk, specking his papers with dark brown stains. “You mean frustration? Irritation—”
“Attraction, intrigue—”
“Enough! You’re going to make me ill,” he mumbled. Though her marks were not far off. But there wasn’t enough ale in this world for that conversation. “She is a thorn in my side. Nothing more.”
“Yes, and I was born yesterday.” Her lips puckered in disbelief. “Do not lie to me, I see the way you steal looks at her when you think no one’s watching. Just remember, I always am.”
His fingers played with the flame from the candle, feigning disinterest. “I prefer you better when you’re my commander.”
“But I’m of better use to you when I’m your friend.” Her gaze on him softened significantly. “We’ve been together for more than fifty years, Vali. You cannot hide from me. But you need to be careful. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before and we both know how that ended.”
“That is wonderful counsel, Seela. Save it for when I actually need it.” His hands smoothed over the map of the Tree of Life, outlined with the paths twisting through the branches. The sea would transition into shallow rivers once they passed the way to Asgard, and they would follow the streams feeding the High Branches all the way to his home.
Seela sighed and shrugged one shoulder. “Look, I completely understand. She is quite pretty when she isn’t being so disagreeable. And her wolven…”
“Seela,” he groaned. He needed her to stop talking.
Her laugh was like a spring of joy, filling the room with its light. “Relax, I’m only teasing because it is refreshing to talk of something other than the Tether. Besides, she doesn’t even like you.”
“Impossible. Everyone likes me,” he said with a tilt of his chin.
“Not when you kill their fathers.” Seela stood from her armchair and took a moment to study him, and he ignored her concern like the rest of their conversation. “I’m worried, Vali. I fear the sea serpent won’t be the only beast that senses her magic, and the worst is still ahead of us.”
“We can only give her to the Aesir and pray it is enough.”
Her eyes traced his chest, as if she could still see the heart behind the cage of his ribs. “It is never enough.”
Vali knew this to be true. The gods were known to be fickle with their side of a deal, his father the worst of them all. But after the mess he had made, after all he lost, this woman and the power inside her was the only chance he had left at redemption. There was nothing more important, nothing to stand in his way.
He watched his commander leave the room, a little of her light leaving with her. Seela had been by his side since they were old enough to train for this mission. But unlike him, her participation had been voluntary. He was the only tortured soul on this ship who had no choice but to be here, whose destiny was written as clear as the runes on his skin.
Vali the Heartlesswould becomeVali the Redeemer.He would be written in the Halls of Alfheim for his services. His history was being decided each day, and he would make sure the Nine Realms remembered him as someone worth celebrating.
He stood from his chair, the legs sending a harsh sound across his cabin, and left to check on his one last shot at redemption.
* * *
“What are you doing?”he asked.
Ailsa was still resting. Her face softened under the guise of sleep, the tension often set in her jaw relaxed and left someone more youthful in her place. Ivor laid her bare beneath layers of blankets, her dark hair combed neatly in gentle waves across the ivory pillow. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, the simple motion lulling him into a trance.
“Her breathing treatment. She usually smokes it, but I’ve seen her father do this after one of her more vicious fits. She has been ignoring her routines with all the excitement, and her lungs have borne the consequences.”
Ivor was burning a combination of herbs wrapped in incense paper and blazing on one tip. It was a delicious smell, opening his senses immediately, familiar but unplaceable. Lavender, eucalyptus, a mention of mint, the heady spice of cedar. He realized then it was Ailsa’s smell, the scent she wore like a perfume.
The wolven swirled the smoke around her head, creating twisting silver tendrils that fell and kissed her skin. He watched them both in quiet observance, leaning against a darkened corner far from the bed.
“You look at her like she is a wounded animal,” she said. Vali glanced at her, tearing his eyes from Ailsa. “She hates when people do that.”
“What ails her?” he asked.
Ivor shrugged, continuing to spread the incense over the sleeping woman. “I’ve heard her family call itThe Drowning.But no one knows exactly. It is a condition she only shares with her mother’s line. Manageable, but she gets sick very easily. She’s lived much of her life in isolation, as her father was too afraid to let her go to foreign lands with their strange diseases.”