“Where are we off to?”
I blinked before I found my words. “You don’t need to help me. I’m sure you have far more important things to do with—”
He smiled again, and this time, my reaction manifested as warmth on my cheeks. “I would like nothing more than to spend time with you on a nice day like today.”
My heated cheeks burned hotter. Why would he want that? I wasn’t anything special. There were plenty of other, more deserving women to take up his time. But I didn’t voice any of that. My father had told us all, if Týr returned, to not refuse any of his requests. We were indebted to him. “If you’d like.”
I led the way into the forest where I’d find my first patch of plants to pick. The walk was silent between us, only the sounds of the forest to keep us company alongside our thoughts. There were many things I wanted to inquire with him about, but I struggled to speak. The questions were probably rude, and it was best not to offend him.
“Why did you answer my prayer?” There went my mouth, without my permission.
He didn’t answer right away, and regret clamped in my chest. I shouldn’t have said anything. “I don’t know.”
I glanced up at him to find the man in deep thought.
“I’ve been thinking about it since that day and still cannot come up with a definitive answer—just that your voice spoke the loudest to me over all the other prayers.”
I found that hard to believe. Warriors prayed to Týr the most. And with so many battles out there, there had to be far more worthy prayers to answer than mine, a helpless woman who needed a god to save her family from a crazed, possessed man. “Is that why you’re really here today, even with the number of weeks that have passed since we last saw each other?”
His gaze went thoughtful. “Has it been that long?”
That didn’t surprise me. Gods were eternal; their perception of time was nothing like us mortals.
Týr shook his head. “To answer your question, yes, that is the deeper reason behind my visit.” He turned those brilliant eyes on me. “I want to learn more about the mysterious woman with hair the color of blood, who prays louder than any warrior and harnesses magic.”
I blinked, unable to understand why he’d want to know me. “You can ask me anything and I will do my best to answer. It’s only fair after I made my inquiries.”
“Mortals having the ability to harness magic is a rare ability,” he said. “How is it that you and your mother can?”
I shrugged and stopped in front of the patch of ferns I’d been looking for. “I don’t know how to answer that, and I don’t think my mother can, either. It is just something the women from her family can do.”
His brow rose. “All of them?”
I nodded and bent down to pick some ferns. “She says it’s all the same magic, but each person harnesses it in a different way. She told me my grandmother was a healer, but couldn’t ever use magic offensively. My mother, on the other hand, can’t heal. Both of them receive cryptic visions of the future, though my grandmother’s mother did not.”
“And what about you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know yet. That day was the first time I used magic. So my training has only just begun. As for the visions, only time will tell. That is a manifesting power none of us have control over.”
Týr made a thoughtful sound. “That’s right—Rune seemed surprised you used magic. Why is that?”
My lips twisted, and my picking paused. “Because I should have had my magic some time ago.”
Týr crouched to be on eye level with me. “What do you mean?”
“For most of us, our power manifests by the time we’ve seen seven winters.”
His eyes widened. “That early?”
I nodded. “And at eighteen winters, it was assumed by everyone but my mother I was never going to inherit that ability. I would be the first in a long time.” Adding to my cursed nature…
“It’s amazing to hear one mortal has the ability to harness magic, let alone an entire family line.” His wonder faded to curiosity. “What’s wrong?”
I mentally cursed. I should have been more careful hiding my emotions. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
His brows knitted together, but I tucked away the last fern into the basket and stood, dusting my knees. “We can move onto the next patch.”
It was better to move away from that topic. No need to dump my problems on a god. He couldn’t help me, nor would it be right to request him to try.
