Astrid chose me for her first healing session. While she worked, her golden light searching for the worst, slower-to-heal damage and Fenrir and Baldr watched on, enthralled by her ability, she asked Freyja questions. “Freyja, I always wondered, how can you be a goddess of sex and fertility and war? They seem too opposite to work.”
Freyja hummed. “They’re not all that different, really. Love, childbirth, family, they’re all their own kinds of battle filled with passion.”
Astrid made a thoughtful noise and then focused on a particularly stubborn damaged bone. Seemed someone had struck me better than I thought.
“How do gods obtain scars when you heal so fast?” Astrid asked.
“Some weapons and magic can cause us to heal slower, resulting in the same improper healing you mortals experience,” I said.
She nodded slowly. “Is this all you war gods do, beat each other up if you don’t have others to fight?”
“We eat and drink and fuck, too,” Fenrir said.
Freyja, Baldr, and I laughed. Astrid shook her head while chuckling.
After some more healing, she let out a long breath, and gave me the all-clear. Like the last time she healed me, I felt better than before we’d even arrived here. Her abilities were amazing for a mortal. And once Fenrir got his chance to feel this wondrous power of hers, he wouldn’t shut up about it.
Much to my irritation, Astrid ate up the praise. It didn’t bother me that it boosted her self-esteem. No, it just showed me how quiet I’d been about it around her. Fenrir wasn’t serious about taking her from me. I knew him well enough to know that he was only trying to get under my skin. But hel if he didn’t also show me how much I was failing her. If only I didn’t struggle with the right words when she looks at me.
“What are the two of you going to offer as stakes for your second round of punch-each-other-into-unconsciousness?” Astrid asked. “Freyja said you make multiple bets.”
Fenrir’s brow rose. “There was no winner, so you’re still the prize.”
Astrid snorted. “There was a winner. Me.”
My eyebrow spiked, and Fenrir laughed. “You?”
“I stopped all three of you, so I won.”
This time I laughed while Fenrir stared at her, dumbfounded.
“You can’t win yourself,” Fenrir argued.
Astrid held her head high. “Can and did.”
Fenrir shot a look at me while I continued to laugh. Baldr joined in. “She’s perfect for you.”
Astrid’s cheeks turned pink, though she didn’t voice any agreement or rejection. I’d noticed this several times when the teasing came up. She either got quiet, or deflected. I knew my intentions were still muddy, and I was working on that, but most women in her position would be more excited to hear the implications.
Is she not interested? She’d been quite vocal about the men she didn’t want, so if she wasn’t interested, wouldn’t she have told me? Or was my status as a god preventing her from being honest? Or maybe the debt?
Ice prickled my veins. Astrid always seemed so genuine in her reactions around me. I hadn’t thought she might feel obligated to agree to anything I requested of her.
“You’re all set,” Astrid said, her voice strained. It was clear healing took a lot out of her, by the way her shoulders and eyes drooped.
Fenrir flexed. “I’ve never seen anyone with healing capabilities like you. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good. It’s a shame you’re mortal.”
I ground my teeth. Why did he have to bring that up?
Astrid shrugged. “Life isn’t always fair.”
Fenrir, Baldr, and Freyja both gazed at her with concealed sympathy. We gods accepted mortals died. Gods could die as well, but old age was never a factor for us. But hearing a mortal just accept her reality, like Astrid did, somehow made that fact harder to tolerate in this instance.
“I can only hope, if I have a daughter of my own, she’ll also be blessed with this much power,” she said.
I swallowed. Children. I’d be happy to give her as many as she desired if that’s what she wanted.
“Baldr, it’s your turn,” Astrid said.
