Page 110 of Rune

“Yes,” I replied. “I can’t fathom how they got us confused.”

Faðircleared his throat. “What matters is my daughters are home.” But his tone had changed too. A moment ago he was celebrating, but now he looked as if the weight of the fjord rested upon his shoulders, and his voice turned sharp.

As their energy buzzed around me, my thoughts turned cloudy. A knowing look passed between them. I’d shared enough with Tova to spot when people were keeping something secret, and this particular one worried me.

It more than worried me. As my sisters stood to touch where I’d shorn my hair, and Tova tried to keep the story going, I focused on my parents, whose eyes were on the marks on my arm. Where I’d been warm a moment ago, cold now took hold, one so deep, even the nearby fire couldn’t quell it. That was all it took.

My questions came flooding back. Ones I thought were answered. Ones I hadn’t wished to dwell upon again.

“This sword is glorious!” Sigrid was drawing it from the sheath against my back. The weight of it brought her down. She smiled up at me. “Can I keep it?”

“You can look at it,” I told her. “Odin crafted it for me.” As my sisters huddled around the weapon, I stood and slipped away. Tova shot me a look, but I shook my head. I needed a moment.

I opened the door and stepped, still barefoot, into the cold where the dead garden crowded at my feet and wind tousled my hair. My breaths came fast and loudly, seeping into my lungs as if I could never get enough.

That look. They’d shared a dangerous look.

Like a secret was out.

My arms wrapped around my body, and once more, I reached into the pits of myself to find the goddess inside.What do you feel,I asked her.What am I missing?

She hummed inside, lighting a fire in my belly that blocked out the frozen winter.

I feel alive.

I stumbled back. She was like a roaring lion I couldn’t ignore now, pounding against my bones. Demanding to be let back out. “I need to know.” I was crying now, the emotion coming on quickly. “I need to know who I am.”

I hated this back and forth. I hated the uncertainty. I wanted to know where I came from and where I belonged, but all I found was confusion.

Amidst the tears, fractions of the puzzle came.

The scars on my arm I couldn’t remember getting.

The way I could feel Ve’s presence when he was near, even when I couldn’t see him.

The way my breathing was clear on Asgard but shallow in Danmark.

It wasn’t enough. There was no proof there, only speculation put in my head by the same gods who tossed me out. It was not enough to hinge hope upon.

But they’d shared a look.

The puzzle needn’t be a puzzle, after all. In fact, it was as simple as one question.

Did my blood run sweet?

The door opened behind me, and mymóðircalled out.Faðirwas with her. But I could focus on nothing else except this one, very simple answer to my problems.

I lifted a dagger, pressed it against the tip of my finger, and let a single drop of blood fall to my tongue.

It tasted sweeter than our finest honey.

As sweet and tempting as the gods.

A terrible shiver ran through my whole body as I raised my eyes to my parents.Faðirhad his arms wrapped aroundMóðirand her hands went to her mouth to stifle a cry while the awakened goddess surged within me until I let her out at last.

Now she had a name, and it was not Ruin.

It was Astrid, and it was me. The lost goddess of Asgard.

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