Page 56 of Rune

But it was not all I thought about as I trekked up the highest mountain toward Odin’s home. I also thought of Tova, and that kept my steps steady.

Eventually, I reached the city just as the sun set behind the mountains. The city was unlike place I’d ever seen, with walls constructed of open stone and streets of glittering silver. This town wasn’t built into the mountain—it was the mountain. The roadswere wide, the homes generously sized with golden balconies, high windows, and oil lamps placed every few feet, setting the city aglow.

My calves roared with the climb. Last time I took this path, I’d been in a chariot with Balder and too nervous to examine the city. Now, I stepped over a ridge and looked back.

Sothiswas Asgard.

I could be grateful now for where Hitta Haven was stationed, on the southern side of the city where things were quiet.

Tall towers reached through the clouds, each of solid gold, and all connected by a fortified wall with silk banners hanging from glossy windows scattered throughout. It broke for a large gate, opening into the city, with chains along it that sent a clear message—once shut, no one would cross. It’d be shut for the Champion Games, no doubt. Sealing all the mortals in the city between this wall and the glistening sea. My eyes wandered that way, to the clear water stretching to the sky until I couldn’t tell where one began and the other one ended.

Theeinherjarwere here. Resurrected Viking warriors. Would they fight if I called upon them, or did they only do Odin’s bidding?

Feet trembling, I approached one of the doors, and knocked.

When no one answered I knocked again. No one knocked back home, but something about this palace—perhaps the chains near the doors—told me this was not a place you walked into freely. Yet, when no one answered a third time, I twisted the handle and stuck my head inside.

A corridor—tall as a tree and wide as a ship—stretched before me. It was empty.

I slippedinside, and ventured into the heart of the home.

I wandered aimlessly at first, until noticing things appeared nicer the further I went. Fires danced in hearths, wools stretched on stone floors, plates gleamed with gold finishing. Still, no voices.

That was, until I pushed through double doors, and found myself looking at a vast room as large as the fjord.

“Wow.” The word escaped breathlessly.

A chandelier lit the room, catching on high columns and dancing to the furthest corners. An elegant stairwell wrapped along the back, leading to a second-floor balcony that stretched the entire length of three walls. I’d have taken in more details, but a figure caught my attention, standing with a wolfskin thrown over his shoulders and familiar broadswords on his back.

Odin turned, but his gaze didn’t find me.

He didn’t look pleased, staring at the ground with low brows. That was what kept me from stepping forward, and a moment later, I was extremely grateful for my hesitation.

“You say a mortal boy found his way into Asgard?” There was anger there that confirmed what I knew before—gods didn’t care for mortals in Asgard.

“I let him in,” Balder replied. I swung my eyes to find him, standing plainly before Odin as the larger man paced.

Balder was letting in a record number of mortals to this sacred city.

“You think that is wise?” Odin asked. From his tone, he didn’t.

Balder ran a hand through his hair—the first sign he was at unease. “The boy is young, but his clan depends on him. They depended on her as well. And they have always been loyal to us.”

“So bless their crops,” Odin replied. He’d stopped pacing now, but his arms were crossed.

“Will you see him?”

After a long pause, Odin nodded.

Balder moved to a set of doors and opened them.

Trig—the boy who broke my heart, claimed my sister’s love—was somehow there with his head held high and his steps certain as he came into the presence of Odin.

My first instinct was that this was a trap. A test of my loyalty. A trick of my eyes. Surely not real.

But as I blinked, the image didn’t go away. It came closer, and it bore a face I knew well.

Those eyes had always captivated me, bright even in the dark of night, as if the sun shone through the warm brown tones. They were fixed straight ahead. Unwavering. That’s how I knew he was nervous, because when at ease, Trig would take in his whole surroundings. He was like Tova in that way—always taking in every inch of the world except when they were nervous, when they would fixate on the thing concerning them. Right now, his gaze fixed on Odin. Rightfully so. And thankfully so, because he didn’t see me.

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