Page 63 of Rune

By Trig’s face, he hoped for the same thing. As time went by, he thrashed against his bonds, bravely risking Odin’s ire even as he glared at him.

“You said you saw him last night.” Ve followed my gaze, and his words came slow like they were chosen carefully. “Did he come to your place?”

I grinned at the distant way he asked, almost perfectly masking the interest beneath. Almost. My lips pulled into the barest smile. It was all I could manage right now. “That bothers you, doesn’t it? The thought of him with me?”

He shot me a look. Whatever he saw in my face was enough to make him straighten, and all emotion fell from his eyes. “You’re right. None of my concern.”

But he wanted an answer, so I gave it to him. “You are the only late-night visitor I’ve had.”

I gave him a gentle shove, and the corner of his mouth raised.

Then a trumpet sounded, and all other sounds faded. I was vaguely aware of how I lost feeling in my body and how the blood rushed in my head. All senses refused to work other than my eyes, locked on that door, as the lock was turned and it slowly swung outward.

Tova had been last out yesterday. She was first today.

They’d dressed her up, taming her curls into two locks down her back and painting runes on her arm. Perhaps they would make her think of me and know I was there with her, rooting for her with every swing of the axe. Leather sandals were on her feet with straps done up her calf. Her tunic was simple enough until I caught sight of the back. It’d been torn, right at the top.

I smiled. She was showing off Odin’s mark. Reminding Odin she was his.

Briefly, she caught my eye. I waited with bated breath.

Slowly, and only once, she nodded. I exhaled. I’d take that as a sign she’d use the spear. She wasn’t stubborn enough to die.

Tova crossed to the middle of the arena and planted herself there like a statue with her chin held high. The picture of fearless. I was not as convincing. Neither was Trig. His knees had given out. He shouted her name, and only then did her composure break.

The arena had quieted as she walked out, but now it roared to life—everyone spotting the mortal chained to Odin’s chair. Amidst the roar, Tova stepped back and clutched a hand to her heart. I tried to make out the words from her lips.

What are you doing here?

I squinted to catch his reply.For you.

I missed her reply. Probably something likeyou shouldn’t have done that, and she’d be right. He shouldn’t have. But none of that mattered now, especially as someone else was coming from the concrete, prison door.

It was another girl, one clad in leather and steel from her shoes to her shoulders to weaves in her hair. Her skin was darker like mine, with sun-stained hair and a fire in her eyes we could see from here. She left a trail along the ground as dust swelled in the wake of her confident steps, and came almost to Tova’s side. She was shorter, but held her chin high enough as if she could fix that.

From somewhere, someone was announcing, “Our champion Tova Heiskandottir will face off against the champion Glyn Bjarnadottir in one-on-one combat to the death. The winner will have found favor in Odin’s eye and be allowed to compete in three days’ time in the final competition.”

Allowed. Like it was their heart’s one desire.

Ve’s hand still held mine, and now he squeezed it. “She can win.”

“Maybe,” I whispered. “But the gods only choose the best.”

A trumpet sounded—a horrible sound—and thematch began.

I was ready to jump, but I forced myself to give Tova a chance. As long as she got to the spear…

They sprinted into action, Tova racing to one weapon rack and Glyn to another. They took the barest moment to select a weapon, but I was grateful to see Tova pass over the faulty shields. Glyn wouldn’t have that knowledge, proved when she grabbed hold of the largest shield and held it up. She opted for a narrower blade with a long, hooked tip. It would tear flesh easily and be more manageable, but would do nothing against bone. If that was to be Tova’s death, that blade offered a slow one.

As for Tova, I waited for her to grab the spear.

She didn’t. Her hand drifted by.

“Tova,” I breathed, willing the urgency in my voice to find her.

She tightened each fist around an axe, wielded them high, and ran at Glyn.

They met somewhere in the middle, amongst the roar of the crowd and the dry of the dust. Tova’s axe came down to claim the first hit, and it cracked against Glyn’s shield. She had to use her hilt to block the strike of Glyn’s blade as she ripped her first axe back. She swung again, hitting the same spot, and doing nothing more than clattering off the edge of it.

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