When I turn back toward my mother, I see why. Odin, the enormous red beast that he is, is circling overhead, preparing to land. . .right beside my mother.
But why?
Just past him, a much smaller, much less threatening blue æsir circles and lands, moving toward my mother more slowly, probably trying to be as non-aggressive to Odin in her movements as possible.
Why do you need to talk to her again? I’ve told you everything already and so has she. Euphrasia looks nearly beside herself. She and Mother are very close, and their bond has always been a strong one. She and I trained Gyda just as you said we should. She was even better than Gorm at resisting the ensnarement.
Then how did Freja and Bjorn turn her against her own people? Odin snaps. If she had done as she was tasked, we might have taken out both the children that day. Then Bjorn would be vulnerable. None of his other offspring are large enough to pose a threat. We could have attacked him for once, maybe even wiping out the bulk of the vanir once and for all.
Freya stiffens beside me.
All I know is that Gyda was a good child, and that when she left here, she had every intention of doing as we asked. Mother’s eyes flash, and she straightens, holding a half-gutted flounder and a small paring knife. I think you’ve made a mistake by calling her a traitor. I don’t believe she has forsaken us.
Euphrasia’s eyes close and her body slumps.
It’s clear that was not at all the answer Odin wanted. You question me? You think your daughter, what? Is secretly working on another plan of her own? One that none of us understand? One that cost me my wife’s life?! Odin opens his mouth wide.
I belatedly realize he’s going to roast my mother on the spot for defending me. We came here in the hope that Mother could get us to Valhalla where we could see Odin. I’m not about to let her die for me, not when I’m right here, able to defend her.
I step out in front of the bush line, twisting away from Freya’s attempt to restrain me yet again.
“Hey there, you big red bully. If you want to harm an earth child, how about the one you’ve branded a traitor without knowing the facts or having any idea what’s truth?”
Odin’s head whips my way and his mouth snaps closed. His eyes, though, his eyes burn with rage. You dare show your face here? I will end you. He opens his mouth again, this time while facing me.
“Is that really all you know how to do? Set things on fire? No wonder we’ve been futilely fighting the vanir for hundreds of years or more.”
He stomps toward me then, and I wonder whether he might eat me.
“Come on,” I hiss. “Pull out the heart stone.”
Freya’s still hiding as far as I can tell, which means that while I might have been willing to protect my mother with my life, Freya’s not as committed to defending me. I wonder whether she’s racing back to Nótt right this very minute.
“Your so-called traitor changed my allegiance entirely.” When Freya steps out from the foliage, it’s not like I did, stumbling and mad. No, she looks glorious, her shoulders squared, her eyes flashing, and her hand outstretched, holding the shining heart like it’s some kind of shield from the Gods. “I am Freya, formerly Freja, daughter of Bjorn, and until recently, I was sworn to end the lives of all æsir. I despised earth children, and I wanted to find a way to dissolve our need for a bond to them.”
Euphrasia has crept closer and closer, and now she’s peering around a very large tree at the heart stone. Mother’s hiding behind her leg, but she too looks absolutely enchanted.
Odin’s another story. He looks ready to incinerate Freya and her heart stone. In spite of her claims, he doesn’t seem inclined to rethink anything.
“You can try frying me, but I’m not sure it will work. When Gyda and I snuck down into the caverns below Father’s warrens to steal the heart, I had no idea whether it would work. It was Gyda who called to Jörð, and it was Gyda whose swords, a gift from me, freed the heart stone from the earth. But we brought it here, to you, together.” She slides it back into her pocket. “Now I’m thinking that was a big mistake.”
I’m not sure what kind of trick this is. Odin looks somehow angrier than before. Smoke’s drifting from his nostrils, and lava keeps pooling and dropping from his mouth to char the scrub grass and piles of seaweed beneath him. I’m not inclined to keep listening to vanir lies. The last time I waited for this one. He tosses his head at me. My wife died. I’ve lost too much already to fall for another trap. He opens his mouth then, and fire erupts, billowing out toward me.
I’m not sure how it happens or how long it takes.
Not very long.
Somehow, before the blast from the massive Odin can strike me, Freya transforms into her old form, a sleek, large, and beautiful ice vanir, and her own ice attack knocks Odin’s off course, both ice and fire hitting the nearby ocean with a hiss and a crack.
“How did you do that?” I can’t help asking.
Fly, idiot, Freya says. Fly fast and far.
She’s protecting me. Just as my mother was. Just as Euphrasia is now protecting her bonded. That’s enough for me, but instead of flying away, I draw my swords, and I shove them into Odin’s closest leg. They do pierce his tough hide, but then I’m unable to pull them back out.
If I thought Odin was angry before, I was very, very wrong.
A truly furious Odin’s a terrifying sight to behold. He turns toward me, his mouth open, his teeth snapping in the air inches from where I was standing before I launched upward. I’ve barely flown a dozen paces away when I hear Freya call my name. Gullveig!
