Page 32 of Valkyrie Confused

“The wine I have in mind goes with everything.” Pan winks, and Fenrir chuckles.

“You meanthatwine.”

“That I do,” Pan says with a grin.

Should I be jealous?

Do I have any right to be?

Fenrir leads us to two open seats at the bar and nods for the bartender to come closer. He whispers something in the man’s ear, and three tumblers of liquid swirling with colors ranging from pale gold to purple are soon placed in front of us.

I look from them to him. Having my back to the room feels weird, so I’m sitting half-turned toward him, my back to Pan. Now I’m also supposed to drink something that wasn’t poured in front of me? It’s not even served in a wine glass.

It has the right look for Olympus wine, at least.

“You choose first,” Fenrir says, as if he reads my mind. He may as well have. He’s as much of a warrior as I am, though the prophecies had us in opposing camps even before he joined the apostates.

I pick up the glass closest to him and sniff it.

Pan reaches past me and snatches one of the remaining two tumblers. He taps it to mine and the third one, and then downs half of it. “Ahh. That’s the good stuff.”

“Which is why you shouldsipit, not guzzle it down.” Fenrir’s tone carries some of its usual snap. I prefer this to his happy-host approach. It’s familiar.

I don’t smell anything but strong Olympian wine. I take a tentative sip that spreads warmth in my belly.

“Nobody will attack you or try to harm you in any other way here,” Fenrir says. “Frey has made sure of that.”

“If you say so.” But I maintain my reservations. Odin has many enemies, and though not everyone knows he’s back, it’s common knowledge that I’ll always stand by him.

“I do say so,” he says. “Relax.”

I look him up and down.

He certainly seems more relaxed than the last time I saw him, when he almost killed me. It was at the fighting ring, not personal, but he seemed hardly in control of his wolf. Now, he exudes a calm I thought impossible for warriors like us.

“You seem content.” Am I jealous that he can have this after what he did to Odin, while I’ve always done the AllFather’s bidding and yet live with a hole in my soul?

“I’m more than content. Frey and I have made a good life.”

They’re an item, then. I’d heard whispers, but with gods, you never know what to believe. Now that he mentioned it, I can smell a male god all over him.

I inhale more deeply. I also smell a female… something. Something powerful.

A dragon?

Impossible.

Fenrir grins. “You picked up her scent, huh? I can certainly sniff Pan all over you. Has your lord and master’s demise opened you up to playing with other gods?”

I stiffen. Will Pan tell him Odin is back?

“It would appear so.” Pan polishes off his drink, slams the tumbler on the bar, and motions for the bartender to refill it.

Fenrir laughs, and it’s even stranger than seeing him smile. “I used to have fucked-up priorities too. Was all about victory and honor. Now… I’m happy.”

I can’t take this alternate reality without alcohol. I finish my wine and also ask for another when our burgers arrive. This place… It’s getting to me.

“I’ll leave you to your meal,” Fenrir says. “Need to make the rounds. Maybe I’ll see you later.” He pats my shoulder, and it feels like genuine camaraderie. Something I didn’t realize I missed.

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