“That is for you both to decide.”
He blew a harsh breath, disturbing the water. “Can you at least show me a way to help her from what she carries? Or break the curse on her body?”
“The curse is not her body but her blood. She will need to accept who she is in order to be healed. But the end of her thread does not cut off because of an illness.” Skuld spoke in a hushed voice. “It is by betrayal. Or greed. Or love. These are the potentials.”
“Are there no potentials where her thread weaves on?” The world around him seemed to darken, the starlight snuffed out until he felt the darkness suffocating his senses.
“You are asking the wrong question.”
It took all his willpower not to strangle the answer from the Norn, but he thought better than to threaten the performer of his future. “Can I change the potentials?”
She nodded approvingly. “Yes.” Vali sighed and ran a hand over his weary expression. “Does this displease you, Son of Odin?”
“I feel like I’m going to make the wrong choice.” And nothing about Ailsa felt like a choice. Not her fate, certainly not how he felt for her.
She rounded the well and placed a cold hand over his, ceasing the tremble that had manifested with his confession. “Fate is not carved into stone, Vali. If you do not like where your thread is stitched, then rip it out and start a new path. Because I see a potential for you that is very possible should you do something so simple as choose it.”
“What potential is that?” he asked.
“Happiness.”
Four days.
It had been four days since Vali left her in a dungeon in Jotunheim, taking the key with him. The giants had been decent hosts, leaving her alone for the better part of the day. She was able to get one of the guards to bring her a pack of cards, courtesy of the gambling games her keepers let her engage in when she convinced them into letting her play.
She passed the other lapses of time with sewing. Ailsa had never been particularly crafty with a needle and thread when it came to garments, but she was working on a project to keep her mind busy. Otherwise, she would think about Vali and the trouble he could be facing. He told her two days, and he wasn’t the kind of man to lie. Not about something as serious as his time.
She missed him. This throbbing in her chest rivaled the kind she felt when she watched Erik sail away, but this was worse. Erik had known how she felt and rejected her, something she learned to accept. Vali was ignorant of her feelings for him, as was she before he departed. Even now, days later and after plenty of time to be alone with her thoughts, she wasn’t quite certain. But her heart seemed to know things her head did not.
She had nothing to gamble with but her words. The giants were easily amused by her sharp tongue and baited by her insults. After only a day of sitting in her own company, she felt anxious, needing something to do. She found the fabric of their clothes were rich and fine despite the living conditions in the valley and decided to work for the materials of her new project.
“I see from the state of your cell my guards are inept at cards.” Thrym sauntered down the steps of the dungeon while she was deep into her work, surrounded by rolls of black silk and spools of golden thread.
Ailsa set down her needle and rolled her shoulders free of stiffness. “I think they just feel bad for me now, seeing as I’ve been stuck pissing in a bucket for the past four days.”
Thrym leaned against the bars and surveyed the mess of her cell. “I’m sure your elfin will return as soon as he is able. I did not give him an easy task.”
“Or he left me here,” she said with a sour face. “Maybe he realized I’m more trouble than I’m worth and used this as an opportunity to dump me on someone else.”
The giant threw his head back with a barking laugh, and it was a pleasant sound to behold. His lilac skin practically sparkled in the torchlight. “Trust me, my lady. No male, fae or giant, would forget a woman as lovely as yourself. He would be the greatest fool in all the realms to leave you in my hands.”
She couldn’t conceal the blush creeping in her cheeks. Even though the Jotun had imprisoned her, he wasn’t as cruel as he made himself to be on the first day. He had even agreed to get her supplies should she win them off his men. She enjoyed his banter, and he wasn’t offensive to look at either. “That’s very kind of you, Thrym.”
“What are you making anyway?” He jutted a chin toward the bundle in her hands.
“It’s supposed to be a shirt, but I’m a terrible seamstress. I’m not sure if I should just change it into a large handkerchief at this point.” She held the tunic by the shoulders, watching the uneven cuts reveal themselves.
“A bit large for you, don’t you think?” he asked.
“It isn’t for me.”
The giant made an ‘O’ shape with his lips. “So, itisfor the elfin.”
“I don’t know,” she confessed, dropping the poorly made shirt from sight. “I should probably just scrap it. It’s a terrible idea.”
“What do you mean?”
Ailsa could not believe she was about to confide in a giant. Where was her wolven when she needed her? Ivor would definitely agree this was a mistake, would have talked her out of it. Perhaps she was waiting for someone else to confirm her doubts. “In my world, when a woman wants to show a man she is interested in pursuing him romantically, she makes him a piece of clothing. Usually a shirt. But I don’t even know if I’m that interested in Vali or if he would return the sentiment. I could be making a fool of myself and not even because this shirt is hideous.”