Page 24 of Rune

Now that I’d spotted one familiar god, I searched for others I might know. The woman with long lashes, generous curves, and silky hair had to be Freya. The god of war, Tyre, was on the lower-level speaking with Frigg, easily identified as the only one missing a hand but still possessing enough muscle to take the axe fixated on his side and slice through bone with ease if needed. In the shadows of the pillars, I found a man, younger than many of the others, with thick brows, dark hair, and eyes so light brown that they appeared golden. He watched me from a distance, not bothering to avert his gaze when I stared back. From how he clung to the darkness, I guessed that I was looking at Loki.

A tremor ran down my spine. I knew to beware of Loki, but I hadn’t guessed how handsome he’d be.

I’d just finished a circle through the room when I found one last face, this one made of stone. A statue had been placed near the side ofthe main level beneath laurel and roses, basking in the moonlight. This one was not of Odin or Frigg, but a young girl with a peaceful expression on her face, slender eyes, a sharp nose, and a bow in her hand.

I took a few steps closer. From the way she’d been placed so prominently in the room, she had to be someone important, but I didn’t recognize the features from any of the mortal statues.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” a deep voice said from behind me.

“Who is she?” I asked without turning. The speaker stood close enough that I heard as his footsteps landed near mine, and saw his arms cross over his broad chest from the corner of my sight.

“That is you,” he said. “Or rather, how we’d guessed you would look now. I fear we were unable to capture your beauty properly.”

He was right—my features were nowhere in that girl, and she was better off for it. The girl in the marble had been chiseled by a gracious hand, adorning her with strength and beauty alike, and an expression that told of a gentle heart. She wore a simple tunic and boots, with no weapons to save her, and her hair was left loose. A collection of wildflowers grew at her feet.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“Every five years, we sculpted what you might look like so we never forgot. You have been on our minds for a long time, though I don’t think any are more pleased at your appearance than my wife.”

I looked up to find his blue eyes trained across the room to Frigg. My body chilled. I dropped my knees to the floor and bowed my head, almost spilling the drink still in my hand.

“Odin.”

His laugh was a deep rumble. “It’s been a while since another god bowed before me. I quite like it. Rise, dear one, and give your grandfather a hug.”

So much for hiding from Odin.

I stood, and he wrapped his arms around me.

Frigg called me beautiful. I recited the stories I’d have when I got home. I almost spilled wine on Odin when he hugged me. Loki studied me from the corner, and I watched Thor eat a lamb leg in three bites.

Odin’s white beard tickled my cheek as he held me close enough his breastplate armor dug into my shoulders. Either that, or the sheer closeness to Odin made my breathing pause, and I therefore set a personal record on longest time going without a breath. His hand was at the back of my neck, holding my head close as he dropped his down to cradle mine. His other hand was directly on one of the daggers I’d attached to my back with a string tied around my waist, but he didn’t say anything.

Over his shoulder, Frigg was watching us with a smile, and she wiped a tear from her cheek. My heart tightened. I’d be gone soon, and she’d have to wonder where her granddaughter was again.

When Odin pulled back, he wore a huge smile.

I breathed, but every muscle in my body was flexed, ready for the moment when his smile would drop and he’d sense I held none of the deity that the others in this room did.

Odin bore many of the same features as his son, Balder—the same wide jaw and straight brows, thick head of unruly hair, and wisdom in his eyes like he knew all the answers of the world. But where Balder opted for no weapons, Odin wore all of them, axes strung to his back, swords at his side, and knives at his waist. It’d take all my strength to lift one of those axes, especially since I suspected the head of them to be craftedfrom gold, but the wolf-shape drawings along the cheek and engravings in the belly of the handle were so stunning, I longed to touch them just once before I left.

“Have you settled in well at the Hitta Haven?”

Balder hadn’t mentioned the name of the place that he’d given me to reside, but the name suited the temple. It was the ideal haven, nestled amongst the tall trees of the mountain, close to the sparkling stream, and lit by a trail of oil lanterns, every bit as tranquil as a haven ought to be. And Hitta—to find—captured their dream for the place. A haven for the girl they hoped to find.

“It’s wonderful. The arrangement of weapons was vast.”

He smiled like it pleased him the weapons fascinated me. “Your parents loved to train the young godlings, so it was only fitting we fill the place with those until they returned. It’s my hope that by the next autumn equinox, your parents are found.” His attention swung to the statue again, and I wondered if they’d constructed the face to look like my allegedmóðir’s.

“I hope so too,” I lied. “I’d very much like to live with them there. I’d be glad to go to Danmark to search for them, if you showed me the path to get there.”

He didn’t take the bait. “Perhaps we can look together after the Champion Games.” He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “And you’ve spent too long trapped in that land. I would not so soon send you back to those who captured you.”

It took a moment to piece together that term with the one I was familiar with, but Champion Games had to mean the Beckoning. It was both terrifying and thrilling that I’d be witnessing them from this side, and would finally get to see what took place.

All we knew was once every decade the gods demanded an act of worship in the form of blood. Twenty mortals were chosen and disappeared during the night, but only one returned to us. They’d come back different, harder and edgier than before, with tales of death. But their clan won Odin’s blessing and was rewarded for a decade. It’d been a while since a clan from Danmark won such a thing.

Like a lamb amongst wolves, I’d be here. Watching fellow mortals die while I drank wine from a chalice. I tried to drown the worries with a gulp.

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