Page 154 of Valkyrie Renewed

Aya placed her hands on her hips. “What am I, chopped liver? I’m perfectly capable of teleporting you without needing to travel with you.”

Then suddenly, we were no longer in the town, but in Astrid’s room. The remaining adrenaline keeping Astrid up drained quickly, and she listed into Diego.

He steadied her. “Let’s get you relaxed. You’ve been through—”

“I killed people…” she murmured, her eyes unfocused. She lifted her hand up to her mouth, and her body convulsed. “Oh gods, I killed someone.”

She shoved away from Diego and bolted into the bathroom. I winced when she puked. That was to be expected. She was lucky she hadn’t lost it during the fight.

Diego and I followed her in. He knelt next to her and pulled her hair back.

“Why aren’t you a mess?” she complained.

“Because I shot most of my enemies, and, well, Garmr was a wolf, so I didn’t really feel like I was killing a person. More like hunting as a dragon. And I… kinda liked it.”

She frowned. “At least one of us did.”

Astrid puked again.

Diego looked to me. He didn’t know how to help. I did.

I nodded for him to leave the room, and he did. She’d want something to drink after she emptied her stomach. Maybe something to eat from all the energy she expended.

I held back Astrid’s hair and rubbed her back while waiting for her to stop retching. When she did, she continued to hug the toilet, and hung her head while breathing hard, as if expecting the compulsion to expel everything in her stomach to return.

“I don’t understand,” she mumbled. “My past-self and my Valkyrie helped me shut down my emotions. Those… things weren’t human anymore… I was basically putting them out of their misery. Why do I feel this way?”

She was talking about those parts of her like they were separate entities. Maybe that’s how she was processing what she went through. I hoped that was the case, at least. “Because killing with your own hands for the first time is always the hardest,” I said. “And because you’re a healer.”

“I killed in the past.”

“But not in the present.” I rubbed her back more. “You’re a gentle soul, Astrid. Remember what we talked about? You are fierce and bold, but you still balance that with a gentle core. The world we lived in back then didn’t allow for you to be that gentle soul. It forced you to be hardy, otherwise you’d be killed yourself. That’s not how it is now.”

“I’m a Valkyrie, Tyr. I agreed to help Kirby. I swore I’d avenge Baldur. I’m going to have to kill again.”

I nodded. “You probably will. I can’t say if you’ll get used to the feeling or not. If not, that’s okay.”

I brushed a loose hair away from her eyes. “You did amazing, keeping everyone safe. And even after all the magic you used today, you still saved Officer Rory’s life. Maybe you won’t be a battle-hardened Valkyrie. Maybe you’ll be a support Valkyrie. Someone who heals and protects us with magic.”

She squinted. “A battle-medic Valkyrie? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of one of those before.”

I chuckled. “A first of her kind. Or you’re supposed to be our winged witch. Don’t get too close with your weapons if you don’t have to, and rely on that offensive magic. Who knows?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes contemplative.

Diego returned, water in hand. “Filled my dad in, reassured him everyone, especially us, is okay, and now he’s making food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Astrid muttered. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for a while.”

Diego shrugged. “I’m starved, and from the text I got from Aya, all the Berserkers coming here for a feast are, too. Dad’s pretty stoked, especially since Aya promised to get him whatever ingredients he wanted.”

I was hungry as well, but for something other than food. Astrid noticed my gaze and rolled her eyes. “Really? You have shit timing.”

I rubbed her cheek where blood had dried. “You had that sexy-as-sin deadly look on your face throughout that fight, I feel the rage of battle victory in my veins, you’re covered in the blood of our enemies, and you were just vulnerable with me. How am I not supposed to feel like indulging in a different kind of feast?”

She flushed the toilet and stood. “Because all I can taste is vomit, I feel like a herd of Berserkers ran over me and then backed up for good measure, and I’m sure if I look in that mirror I’m going to look like I belong in a zombie apocalypse movie, and that’s not very sexy.”

I chuckled. I begged to differ. She was radiant in this moment.

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