They step toward me without hesitation, each one surveying the surroundings as they move, their gazes moving from the hammer at my side—currently not touching my body—to the dragon and the Celestial Star who have remained at my back. Finally, to Erik.
“Move aside, Blacksmith,” the woman in the center commands without breaking stride.
She’s tall, and her shoulders are broader than the other two. Her black hair is tied back in intricate braids, and she wears a sneer on her face that cuts through her beauty.
As she continues speaking, she gives a dismissive flick of her hand, as if I were nothing more than a pest. “We have come for Erik the Vandawolf, and you would be wise to get out of our way.”
“I will not move,” I whisper, my throat suddenly dry.
For a heartbeat, it seems that none of them heard me.
I suppose they’re unaccustomed to being disobeyed.
Then the woman to my right pulls up sharply, speaking in a warning tone. “Sisters, she means to defy us.”
That woman has auburn hair tied in knots across her head. Her eyes are sharp and her figure is as muscular as the central woman’s. Her right hand rises to the handle of the sword at her back, but she doesn’t draw it yet.
The other two are quick to halt, although it’s the woman on the left, the one who has yet to speak, who takes one step closerthan the others. She has the brightest green eyes and mahogany-brown hair that’s also tied back in braids, but she’s more petite than the other two.
I don’t plan to underestimate her despite her size.
The central woman snarls. “Impudent Blacksmith!”
The woman on the left with the bright green eyes holds up her hand. “Perhaps she doesn’t understand that it’s impossible to stand in our way. Even a Blacksmith as powerful as she is.”
The black-haired woman responds with a huff, but the green-eyed woman persists. “She is one of the last of her kind. It would be a shame to kill her if there’s still a chance we can reason with her.”
The auburn-haired woman gives a heavy sigh and lowers her hand from the handle of her sword, looking at the black-haired one, who now folds her arms across her chest and glares at me.
I suppose that’s her way of acquiescing because she doesn’t voice a further objection.
“Do enlighten her, Sister,” the auburn-haired one says, casting her sharp gaze over me. “Before we are forced to take her life.”
The woman with the bright green eyes takes another step toward me. She appears far more cautious of me than the other two—despite stopping closer to me to begin with.
She slowly lowers herself to the snow opposite me, taking up a kneeling position a full three paces away from me, her legs tucked under her and her hands folded in her lap.
She looks serene even as her breath frosts in the freezing air, and she doesn’t seem to notice the cold that must be seeping through the plates of armor covering her legs.
“I am General Glass,” she says, her gaze steady. “This is General Griffin and General Glaive.” She indicates the woman with black hair first and then the one with auburn hair. “Weserve the Valkyrie Queen and are entrusted to command the three sections of her army.”
I study General Glass closely. She can’t be more than twenty years old. Maybe only a year older than my sister, Tamra, and my brother, Gallium, who are twins. My heart wrenches to be reminded of them, even if Tamra is angry with me. I need to get back to them. They’re in terrible danger, but I can’t help them until I deal with the threat directly in front of me.
Glass continues speaking, her voice cautious and her gaze seeming to take in every small change in my expression. “It is a great honor for an Einherjar’s soul to be claimed by a Valkyrie general,” she says. “Even more so that their soul will be collected by not one, but all three of the Valkyrie Queen’s generals.”
Her expression remains earnest. “I promise you we will carry his soul with the greatest care and respect back to our Queen. She, herself, will lay him to rest at the head of the Hall of Warriors. These honors have never been bestowed on any Einherjar before. It is the greatest glory an Einherjar can ever achieve.”
It’s everything his people believe in. But Erik left that life behind.
“He didn’t die for glory,” I say, my voice a rasp.
He died for me.
He diedbecause ofme.
Glass’s focus slides to my hammer, her gaze lingering on its head, where it’s partially immersed in the snow.
“Bravery,” she whispers, her focus now passing across the runes etched into the hammer’s head. “Loyalty, strength, perseverance, and hope. Those are powerful protective runes, and each is filled with his deep light.”
