“No, dróttseti, at least, not yet.” Heimdall’s golden eyes looked molten, the different hues swirling in their depths. His head tilted to one side. “But, my friend, some things are not meant to be.”
Irritation welled up from deep inside Bernard as he fisted his hands at his sides. “What does dróttseti mean?”
“It has many meanings, but in your case, ‘steward’ or, better yet, ‘advisor.’”
Bernard’s scowl deepened. “That’s ridiculous. You also said something just as cryptic during the vision of Lilyann’s wedding. Would you care to explain what you meant?” Bernard glanced at Freyja, then back at the gatekeeper. “I’m certain I am not the only one wondering.”
Heimdall shrugged. “My visions are not always as clear as I would like them to be. All I know is that your wish to remain locked to a time that has long passed is not healthy for you. In some worlds, dreams placed in the wrong hands can be deadly, not only for the one wielding them but also for all others.”
Shaken, but refusing to let anyone see how the gatekeeper’s words affected him, it was Bernard’s turn to shrug. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Are there things in my past I regret? Sure, but I’m smart enough to realize mistakes teach and, hopefully, we learn from them. I know I have. The errors I made early in the war made me a stronger leader. A better soldier. I don’t know what you’re hinting at, Heimdall. Maybe this time your vision isn’t only unclear, it’s wrong.”
Heimdall’s lips pinched together. Bernard knew he had probably overstepped, but the gatekeeper had poked the bear. Yes, he knew he dwelt in the past too often, but he found a bit of peace in the memories of his wife and children. Solace he desperately needed after the war, after everything that had happened—the death of his family, throwing himself haphazardly into the war effort and ultimately sacrificing his life, or at least trying to, until Freyja gifted him with a second chance at life. But did he want it?
Freyja laid one hand on Heimdall’s thick arm and her other on Bernard’s. Glancing first at the gatekeeper, then him, worry swirled deep in her amethyst gaze. “Please. I know how cryptic Heimdall can sound, but he truly means well.” She turned a pointed stare at the gatekeeper. “Don’t you?” When he didn’t answer, her eyes narrowed more. “Heimdall...”
The Asgardian rolled his golden eyes and shook his head. “You know I do, my lady.”
“Now, shake hands and apologize to each other. We do not have time for this when Alva needs us.”
Forcing away any thoughts of his family or past, Barnard solely focused on Alva and what they might be walking into. Like a switch turning on, he instantly reverted to battle mode as a hundred different possibilities flew through his mind. He held out his hand and bit back a grin as the gatekeeper distastefully glared at it.
Heimdall raised his arm and clasped the offered hand. “I apologize if my visions disturbed you. I sometimes forget how easily humans are upset.”
Bernard stared into the other man’s eerie gaze and nodded. “Some humans, yes. Not this one.” With a hard shake, he let go.
Heimdall’s dark brows rose, but whatever thought he’d had, he kept to himself as he stepped back to the sword and smiled at Aleksandra. “Would you like to help me open the Bifröst, smárgríma?”
Aleksandra’s eyes widened as she nodded. “I would love to!”
Heimdall held out his hand. She took it, and he helped her step up on the dais. “Let us see how Höfuð likes your touch.”
“Höfuð?”
The Asgardian smiled down at her. “My sword.” He pressed her hand around the leather-wrapped grip, then covered it with his. “Smár gríma, meet Höfuð. What do you think of our little shadow, my friend?”
Aleksandra’s wide brown eyes stared up at him. “Is that what smár gríma means?”
“It is. You are unique, little Night Witch. You fade into the background, yet at the same time, become the glue that holds everyone together. You bring peace to your sisters, I think.”
Aleksandra gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you.”
Heimdall glanced at the sword and nodded. “It seems your abilities work on Höfuðas well. He has agreed to let you help open the Bifröst.”
“What an honor you have been given, little one,” Freyja said.
“What do I do now?” Aleksandra asked.
“We gently push the Höfuðtoward the double doors.”
Heimdall laid his large hand over hers and, together, they pushed the sword forward. The two golden doors slid apart and disappeared into the walls, revealing the Bifröst.The moment the doors were secured, the Rainbow Bridge lit up, the kaleidoscope of colors almost blinding in their brilliance.
From where he stood, Bernard noticed the subtle vibrations coming from the icy bridge and couldn’t help but wonder about the magic fueling its ability. The vibration quickened, as if excited, then gentled down into a steady hum.
Or,he thought, is the Bifröst alive?