Now is my moment.
I snatch one of the plain red eggs from the basket nearest me, and I move toward Freya’s back. The egg on the wash basin shines, almost luminescing with its own light. I want to ask Freya whether this might be the one of her eggs that could hatch. I already feel power emanating from it.
It’s special.
I have absolutely no doubt. But is she right? Maybe this egg would allow her to call Veralden Radien, and maybe he can fix the perfect balance by ending the antipathy between æsir and vanir. Maybe I should extend a little faith to my dearest friend.
—every great act requires a sacrifice. Nothing worth anything is free.
The gathered æsir cheer.
So tonight, I’m sacrificing the most beautiful, the most powerful, and the most magical thing I have ever seen, created, or been close to, my very own egg. It pulses with magic and power, and I’m going to destroy it to call the destroyer back to our side. Join with me tonight, and send me your strength and that of your earth child bonded so I can tie that magic to the heart stone, drawing our people together and forcing our errant father home.
She’s destroying it.
As I look at that perfect, beautiful egg, I can’t do nothing.
I should extend Freya some faith. I should help her, even if I fear she’s wrong, but I can’t do it, not if it means destroying the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. She’s right about that. This egg is different. It’s unique. It’s compelling. I reach my hand out, and as she begins siphoning off the magic that’s freely offered in the massive courtyard in which she married Odin a decade and a half ago, I take advantage of her distraction, and I place the large red egg in its place.
And then, before she can stop me, I run.
I hear her chanting, and as I move away, I continue to hear her through the bond. Once I get down the tunnels and reach the back exit, I launch and pump my wings as hard and as fast as I can. I just have to reach Euphrasia, and then together, we can?—
Gullveig!!
Magic explodes around me, and I feel rather than see Freya’s spell go awry. Without the egg to summon Veralden, with the flame egg instead, she manages to create an insane amount of heat. In fact, something behind me is burning so hot that I worry I might melt. My wings might catch fire. Freya the ice vanir has somehow created a hot spot that reaches to the very core of our cavernous home.
The heat from below and that from the destroyed egg begin to meet, creating some kind of explosion that expands both upward and outward.
Bring it back, Gullveig! I need you! I need that egg.
I waffle for a moment. Should I turn back? I look down at the egg in my hand, glowing softly, and I can’t do it. She can’t take this one and destroy it. Sacrifice is one thing, but destruction of something this beautiful is wrong. If that’s truly what Veralden Radien demands, if it’s what he is, I don’t want anything to do with him. And destroying beautiful things like perfect, powerful, varied and precious eggs?
It’s never going to bring us what we want.
I keep running until I reach Euphrasia. “I have it,” I shout. “But she knows. Her spell isn’t going right without it.”
I can tell. Euphrasia tosses her head.
I follow her direction until I see it. Vanir in the distance, fighting Odin, are popping into sight, and then they’re flying backward, shooting ahead, and darting to the side, all of them aiming unerringly for the main courtyard and Freya.
“What’s going on?”
Her spell’s doing something to the vanir, Euphrasia says. I wish I knew what.
Water æsir are teeming around the small boat with the children in it. Fagen’s there too, his bags stowed, his spear in hand. I wave to my girls, and they cheer. “Mom!”
I want to go with them, but I worry. “I should make sure Freya. . .” I offer the egg to Euphrasia.
She takes it, but she tosses her head to the other water æsir. Take them all the way across the bay. Hess is waiting for them. Fagen’s sister escaped the vanir lands and joined us a decade past. Their aunt’s a good, solid woman. Strong and smart. They’ll be alright with her and their father until I can rejoin them.
“You mustn’t bring that egg close,” I say. “Stay here. Let me see if Freya is?—”
Odin shoots past us overhead, and then he whips back and crashes into the ground beside us. What’s happening?
I swallow. “I—Freya wanted—I stole the egg she meant to use to call Veralden.” I wince. “I know that was bad, but she?—”
Odin shakes his head. No, that was right. I’m going back to get all the other eggs. You will come with me, and you can reason with her.
