Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
There’s a need to keep your secrets to yourself for the sake of power—but then there’s intentionally keeping someone in the dark whose life depends on succeeding.
But Mjölnir wasn’t lost. Was it? No one misplaced it. It wasn’t a set of car keys. It was hidden on purpose by someone who could wield it. Someone whose bloodline called to the ancient weapon, was remembered by it. That’s right. Mjölnir could remember…
My hands freeze on the page as the pieces click into place.
Aric does know exactly where it was hidden. But he’s completely forgotten.
What’s done can’t be undone without Mjölnir. Father can’t restore their memories. That’s what Father’s been hiding. That’s why he needs me. I’m not really here just to steal Mjölnir.
I was chosen for this mission for a reason. There’s more to it. Isn’t there always, with Odin?
Bile rises in my throat. My father didn’t send me because he believes I’m capable of anything. He sent me because, like most men who fear what they can’t control, he’d rather a woman be the weapon than the one holding it.
That’s what he saw in me two years ago, long before I ever saw it in myself: a soldier he can send into battle while keeping his hands clean. And this mission is no different.
I never let myself think about that day at the beach. But now, it comes back anyway—the wind, the salt, and the silence between us.
Aric and I weren’t supposed to be alone.
The others had gone back to the house—sick of the sand, tired of the wind. But we stayed. Sitting too far apart to be anything and too close to pretend we weren’t something.
I remember the way the waves crashed behind him. The sharp bite of salt in the air. The fact that he kept glancing at me like I was about to disappear.
“You don’t have to be like him,” I said.
I didn’t say my father’s name. I didn’t have to.
Aric looked away for a long time. Then finally, softly, “Maybe I don’t want to be anything else.”
I think that’s when I touched his hand. Or maybe he touched mine. It doesn’t matter who moved first. What mattered was that it happened.
Just once. Just enough.
His hand was warm. Mine was shaking.
I don’t remember what we said after that. I just remember the silence. The kind that feels heavy with things you’re not ready to want.
We didn’t kiss. We didn’t even hug.
But something passed between us—something that scared us both enough to pretend it never happened.
And then the wind changed.
A gust tore across the shoreline, scattering shells and sand like something had exhaled from the depths. The air dropped ten degrees in a breath.
Behind us, the tide stopped. Froze. A sheet of frost crept out from where Aric sat, then across the wet sand—thin, precise, a vein of ice snaking toward the rocks.
Confusion, and maybe a hint of fear, shone in Aric’s eyes as they briefly flashed white. He yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. Or broken. His hands shook after that. He stared at them, at the frost, like it was a death sentence.
“Go,” he said. His voice wasn’t cruel—but it was cold. Final.
I remember walking away, not turning back, not asking why the sea looked wrong or why my fingers felt numb.
I didn’t know then what we’d triggered.
But I do know swift rejection of the betrothal followed, and while I expected my father to be angry, instead he was almost…pleased, like the whole thing had been a setup and they played right into his hands. He didn’t care how embarrassed I was.
I think about Laufey’s note.
About the frost Aric created from our held hands.
Getting close to him and finding Mjölnir.
He either knows and is hiding it from the world…or he’s going to need a little help to remember.
I almost laugh. Well played, Father. If Aric knows what he is, then I was just sent to the wolves. He would die before telling my father a word.
So Odinfather is banking on my ability to crack him, to gain trust, to inspire loyalty—all the things I barely have within my own family, let alone with my enemy.
I sigh and try not to throw something. This isn’t a quest; it’s a hunt.
And hunters always forget one thing. Sooner or later, the hunted learn to hunt back.
Chapter Eleven
Rey
For a moment, I want to call my father. Tell him where he can shove Mjölnir.
But I won’t.
Nothing’s changed. I always knew this mission would likely end with me dead. The only question was how. And now I know: most likely by a massive Giant pulling my arms from my body.
As long as Laufey walks away from Odin unscathed, I’ll count that as a win.
Whether it’s my father who breaks me or Aric makes no difference. Pain is inevitable.
But now, a deeper sense of purpose thrums in my chest. For once in his life, he really does need someone. He needs me.