Page 29 of Rune

He hesitated. “There’s something I’d like to show you. Let’s go for a ride.”

My smile dipped as he stepped back on his chariot, close to his sword. But I had little option other than to agree, so I descended the marble steps and stepped on the chariot beside him. “Where to?”

“Somewhere you’re going to love.”

I almost laughed. “If you can list one thing I love right now, I’ll believe you.”

He grinned like he was glad I asked. “Knives. You’re wearing more today than you were last night.”

My cheeks flushed.

“Trust me. You’ll want to see this.”

The horses moved forward with the knock of their hooves and a puff from their muzzle, and I gripped the rail to keep upright. This one didn’t float like Balder’s had, and it made for a rough ride. In the small space, Ve stood close enough the hairs on his arm brushed mine, but I tried not to show how that unnerved me. My shoulder reached only a few inches above his elbow, but his frame was less intimidating than Balder’s or Odin’s. He held the reins of the chariot low, keeping a casual stance like this was a usual morning stroll for him, with his cloak flapping softly in the breeze as we rode.

The black horses stood out against the brighter colors of the morning, where shimmery light caught on their soft manes. They turned downward, treading carefully along a narrow path winding behind my temple and past fields of tall wildflowers. The rickety rumble of the chariot wheels filled the silence. After a minute, a stream came to view, sparkling light blue and wide enough to carry a shoal of silver, blue, and yellow fish. They flurried back and forth like a little dance only they knew, their scales sending vibrant shades through the water as the sun hit them. It was the first time I’d admired the small creatures instead of ensnaring them for dinner.

The stone of the mountain gave way to rich, alluvial grounds, and the turn of the wheels came surer.

“Where are we going?” I asked Ve as we rode along the stream. The steady trickle of water soothed me, and when paired with the crisp air, it almost felt like home. Except home didn’t have chariots and sleek horses and tall gods who made me nervous.

“There.” Ve pointed. The stream opened to a lake at the foot of the mountain, and a grassy path led to a tall cave supported with oak beams.

We came to a stop near the mouth of the cave. It faced north so the sun couldn’t shine within the dark opening, but as we drew nearer, little details came into view. Crates set up just inside. Small dolls. Woven baskets. Wooden trinkets. A child’s rattle.

I didn’t move further. “It looks like a grave. If this is what you think I love, I’m giving off a very different vibe than I intended.”

His laugh was rich. “You were glowering at everyone last night like some reaper of death.” He stepped from the chariot.

“I was not. I was soaking it all in.”

“I see. You look very angry when you ‘soak.’”

I stepped off beside him. “Is that why you left early?”

His brows lifted, but he didn’t withdraw his gaze. Instead, he looked at me fully. “I only wanted to meet you on my terms. I wouldn’t have done it this way.” He glanced to the cave. “But Balder made it clear if I didn’t make my introduction before midday, he’d strangle me. So here we are.”

“Here we are…where?”

Tall grasses bent beneath his foot as he crossed to the cave, where he knelt, dropping his knees into the soil. “It’s a shrine.” He looked back. “For you.”

It took a moment to understand, but then the items began to make sense. The dolls, the rattle—all toys for the missing child. As Astrid grew older, the gifts matured into jewelry, wools, and dresses.

“These gifts were left by mortals at various altars across Earth, and we collected the offerings and brought them here. Most of them are useless to you now,” he said as he picked up a carved, wooden sheep. Its leg dangled at the wrong angle before it fell off. Ve set it back down. “But it’s still beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” I asked in a whisper. My throat was tight. That wasn’t the word I’d use for it.

A thick wool lay there, useless, instead of being used to keep someone warm through winter. Gold bands that would never be worn, children’s toys that never got played with, and carvings that must have taken someone hours to create—all wasted on a girl who was never coming home.

This wasn’t beautiful. “It’s sad.”

The wool might have been the saddest of all, and it carved me to the bone. I wanted to look away but my attention was trapped on it as I relived a memory from years ago. It was during those years when it was only me and Tova, before our younger sisters were born, but after my accident tore up my arm. We already knew of my breathing struggles, but that accident, it only proved what my parents had whispered about at night. I wasn’t strong enough to thrive.

Those words motivated me during trainings when I could hardly go on. I might not thrive, but I’d survive.

That winter proved hardest to survive.

We were especially poor then, as my parents had moved to the Fjord Clan from the Southern Clan that summer, and were starting a new life from nothing. We had what could hardly be called a home, and not much to keep warm inside of it. The days were spent by the fire to absorb what heat we could from the limited sticksFaðirallowed us to burn, and the nights were endless stretches of shivering until I was so numb I couldn’t feel a thing.

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