9
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I eased the door to our room open, and Sam bolted upright in bed. “Phoebe!” she said in a hoarse whisper. “You’ve been gone for hours. I was worried sick!”
“I know, I’m sorry. It was out of my control, and Huggie wouldn’t let me leave a note.” I set my boots by the door.
“I thought for sure you’d been kidnapped by vicious creatures, or worse,” Sam said, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Anxiety makes people irrational. Then I remembered you were with Huggie, so I made myself calm down.” She rearranged her covers. “Where have you been?”
I hastily changed back into my nightgown and crawled into bed, setting my broadsword by the nightstand. “I went to see my dad.”
“Your dad?” Sam was stunned into silence, but she recovered quickly. “Are you talking about your god dad? Or your human one—as in, you just popped over to Midgard to shoot the hay for a couple hours with Frank?”
“Who do you think?” I organized myself in the bed so I faced her.
I glanced at the clock. I’d been gone almost two hours.
“Holy crap! I can’t believe it. What happened?” she asked, scrambling up to a sitting position. “I want every single detail. Is that why Huggie was here? To escort you to your father?”
“Yes, Huggie led me to Odin. I also found out I can make a cillar myself, which is cool. That means I can go from realm to realm almost anyplace Yggdrasil has a root network.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She bobbed her head. “That’s great, but you need to speed up the narrative and get to the goods. What’s Odin like? I’m dying over here. Is he old? Young? Tall? Did lightning bolts follow him around like cartoon arrows? Does he have a long white beard? You know, I picture him having a long white beard.”
“No white beard.” I chuckled. “I pictured him with one, too. But he actually didn’t look that old. He’s…imposing, larger-than-life in every sense. He’s taller than both Tyr and Fen and extremely muscular. No lightning bolts, but he does carry his three-pronged spear, Gungnir, with him.” I knew about Gungnir because of Gundren. Odin had only a few weapons made especially for him. “I got the impression he was dressed casually, but his tunic was embroidered with golden thread. He was actually…nice.”
Sam lay back down, adjusting her covers. “Nice? That’s not the word I thought you’d use to describe the leader of gods. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about it. If he wasn’t nice to you, it would be a problem. What did he want? Why did he call a secret meeting? He must’ve had a good reason. Oh, did he talk about his romance with your mother?”
“A little bit.” I chuckled. “He said it wasn’t against the law, but it was frowned upon that they were together. I can’t keep up with all your questions, what else did you ask?” I yawned. I was exhausted, and my eyelids were drooping.
“Sorry, not sorry,” Sam persisted. “It’s not every day you meet your real father who is a god. You are not allowed to fall asleep until I’m completely satisfied, understood? Why did he call the meeting? And why was it a secret?”
“Understood,” I said. “First and foremost, I think he wanted to meet me. He said the meeting had to be on the lowdown because a lot of the gods and goddesses are siding with Frigg, and he has to seem impartial. He talked about the future and what’s going to happen over the next few days. I believe he was trying to prepare me for what’s to come and also let me know that I’m not alone. I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I was overwhelmed the entire time. It’s going to take me time to process it all.”
Sam flipped over. “Did you talk about Fenrir?”
“We did,” I said. Her eyebrows shot up. “It was actually a good talk. Odin doesn’t fear Fen like everybody thinks. He actually feels like Fen has already served his time. He’s going to try his best to free him, if we can get Baldur out of Helheim.”
“That’s great news! What a relief. But what if you can’t free Baldur?” Sam held the same trepidation I felt when I thought about that possible outcome.
“I don’t know,” I said. “We just talked in general terms, no specifics.”
“What about the Norns?”
“He was pretty secretive about that. I got the feeling it was new information to him. It seems Tyr has been doing some investigating. Odin trusts his son, so that’s good news.”
“How did it end?” Sam asked. “Did you hug him? Was it awkward? I feel like it would be awkward.”
“It was definitely awkward.” I chuckled. “I didn’t hug him, but we did shake hands.”
Sam burst out laughing. “Maybe in Asgard, shaking hands is akin to declaring that you love one another. What we don’t know about this place could fill volumes.”
“He did share one interesting tidbit,” I confided. “If you don’t have Asgardian blood, you wouldn’t be able to wrap your head around this place.”
Sam turned on her side. “Did he say exactly how powerful that blood has to be?” She was incredibly anxious to find out who her father was.
“Well, I’m assuming yours is powerful enough, since you haven’t gone certifiably insane since we arrived.”
“Good point.” She snuggled deeper under her covers. “My real father must’ve had some potent blood, since I’m technically only Asgard halfsies.”
“He must.” I yawned. “We better get some sleep. I have to be up in less than two hours.”
“One last question,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Did you see any family resemblance? Like, do you look like him?”
“A little,” I replied. “It was strange. We have the same color hair, and our eyes kind of look alike, but other than that, it was hard to tell, mostly because he’s so larger-than-life.”
“So, you’re telling me Odin’s a ginger?” she said with a laugh.
“What are you talking about? I’m not a ginger. My hair is brown.”
“You’re ginger-ish,” Sam insisted. “Your hair is brown streaked with red. And before you complain, everyone in the world would kill for that color and your complexion. Perfect porcelain with a dusting of freckles. You’re every man’s dream.”
I laughed. “I am not.”
Sam punched her pillow and rearranged herself. “I’m just stating the cold, hard facts everyone knows to be true.”
“I only need to be Fen’s dream,” I whispered on the barest of breath.
“What was that?” Sam asked.
“Nothing,” I said innocently. “Now let’s get some shut-eye.”
“Your wish is my command,” Sam replied sleepily.
* * *
We stood in front of the gates of the High House. Beyond was an enormous wall, then the castle itself. Up close, it was even more magnificent than from afar, with glossy white stone as far as the eye could see, arched windows, flowing banners, and turrets jutting impossibly high.
I was in front, along with Sam, my mother, my grandmother, Rae, and Ingrid. The Valkyrie contingency brought up the rear. Dawn was just breaking around us, Asgard covered in hushed yellows and oranges.
Ingrid mocked checking her wrist. “We don’t have all day,” she called to the guards who stood on the other side staring at us. “I don’t know what you’re waiting for, but we have an appointment inside. Fenrir the Wolf’s trial is happening in less than ten minutes. We stand as witnesses. Let us in.” She rattled the gate.
“I don’t see Reggie among them,” Rae said. “I’m not familiar with the commander at arms who controls the gates in the High House. It used to be Greggin, but I believe he’s been replaced.”
“It’s strange they’re not letting us in,” Leela said. “All trials are public. Anyone in Asgard can attend if they choose to. The gates should be wide open.”
One of the guards broke the line and headed toward us, his helmet bristles waving. “No weapons will be allowed in the High House today,” he announced.
There was an immediate reaction from the crowd of Valkyries.
“We are never without our weapons. They are a part of us!” one Valkyrie yelled.
“What next? We won’t be allowed to wear pants?”
“No weapons and we’re out of here. What is Odin scared of anyway?”
“Have you ever heard of such a rule?” Ingrid asked Rae. “Never in the history of Asgard have Valkyries been asked to lay down their weapons. We would never harm anyone without rightful justification. Everyone knows that.”
“This is unprecedented,” Rae agreed. She addressed the guard who stood in front of us looking a bit forlorn. “Who demands this? Did the order come from Odin himself? Or another?”
“I’m not sure…” he hedged. “I’ve only been told to tell you to lay down your weapons.”
“And if we don’t agree?” Rae challenged.
The guard shrugged. “Then you will not gain entry.”
My chest tightened. “We can’t risk missing Fen’s trial. You have to stand up for him.” I glanced at my aunt. “Ingrid, you promised.”
“We’re getting in there. Don’t you worry. This is not over,” Ingrid addressed the guard, who after three seconds of Ingrid’s stare-down took a large step backward. “Where is the god of war? We wish to speak to him.”
The guard hadn’t been expecting that question. He looked confused. “I have not seen the god of war. I do not know where he resides.”
“Well, you better find him, pronto,” Ingrid ordered. “If you don’t, we open this gate ourselves.” She withdrew Betsy, and the guard’s eyes widened as the spear elongated.
He recovered quickly and had the nerve to look irritated. “If you do that, if you force your way in here, you will find yourselves behind bars!” This guard clearly wasn’t used to telling Valkyries what to do. Likely no one was. The guards wore weapons, mainly short swords, but if Asgard came under attack, these wouldn’t be the foot soldiers fighting the battle.
Ingrid leaned in, each of her fingers slowly gripping the rail, her face inches from the bars. “Do you think the prospect of jail time scares me?”
The guard took several steps back. “Um…no.”
“Good,” Ingrid answered with satisfaction. “Now go fetch the god of war. You have ten minutes. If you’re not back by then, we break this down.”
The guard didn’t move.
Some of his cronies had assembled a few feet behind him, each looking unsure of what to do. It was clear that Asgard was out of its element with these new rules, and protocol had gone out the window. Strife must be uncommon here.
Ingrid made a low gurgling sound in the back of her throat that came out as a growl. “Go!”
The guard turned tail and scurried back to his group. Their heads bobbed down as the men conferred.
“Are we really going to have to break in?” I asked.
“It likely won’t come to that,” Ingrid said. “But we will if we have to. My guess is that this request did not come from Odin, and that’s all we care about. Odin has no fear of Valkyries. We are bound to him and his will.”
“What if it did come from Odin?” I asked. “Then do we have to obey?”
“If the decree came from Odin,” Rae said, “we will have no choice but to obey. But I’m in agreement with Ingrid. This cannot have come from him.”
“Then who?” Leela asked. “Who would fear the Valkyries inside?”
“Frigg,” my grandmother concluded. “The word is that she is beyond consolation, out of her mind with grief. She must have convinced herself that Odin would set the wolf free, or that the Valkyries would bolster him in some way, so she ordered the guards to do her bidding.”
Based on our conversation last night, I knew my father wasn’t going to set Fen free.
“She must be planning some kind of retaliation if things don’t go her way,” Leela said, “and she doesn’t want Odin to have protection. She knows the Valkyries would rise up to defend him.”
“That would be silly on her part,” I said. “She wouldn’t be able to win a battle against Odin, would she?”
Ingrid made a sound that was a mix between a huff and a yelp. “Of course not. She’s clearly delusional with grief. But for now, we wait for Tyr. He will have the authority to make a decision and override any other decrees.”
“What if they can’t find him?” I asked, peering through the gate, not seeing any movement. “They don’t look too organized. The guard who spoke with us is still in the middle of that group over there.” I was worried that Fen’s hearing would start without us.
“Give them a second,” Ingrid said. “I’m sure they’ve rung the alarm internally.” She waggled her eyebrows at me as she shook Betsy. “If they haven’t, we get to have a little fun. Either way, I’m happy.” The group of guards stopped talking and glanced our way. “The clock’s a-ticking,” Ingrid called, raising her spear in the air. “Eight minutes left.”
“The god of war has been summoned,” one of the guards replied tersely.
“Well, he better get here soon,” Ingrid said. “Or it’ll be your unlucky day. And, by the way, we’re making you guys responsible for telling Odin what happened here today, not us.”
The guard blanched, making it clear the order hadn’t come from Odin. If it had, the guards would’ve been cocky and much surer of themselves. When you had the king of gods behind you, you could afford a little swagger.
Rae addressed the Valkyries behind us. “Keep your weapons close. I am certain Tyr will show up, but if he doesn’t, you will await my order.”
“Are we really going to raise weapons against the High House?” a Valkyrie called.
“We will do what we must,” Rae replied. “Nothing more.” Her voice was final, and no Valkyrie challenged her.
A crowd of Asgardians had formed behind us, eager to see the trial, wondering why the gates weren’t open. A minute later, my half brother emerged from a doorway, his face set. He was clearly angry. “Open the gates immediately,” he called as he strode forward.
The cluster of guards turned to meet him.
It was clear they had no idea which edict to follow—the decree they had been given earlier, or the new one from the god of war. One of them stammered, “But we have our orders. The gates are not to be opened until all weapons are shed.”
Tyr raised his hand and whistled, not slowing his gait for a single moment.
A whooshing noise whizzed through the air as a frightening-looking mace flew into his outstretched hand, the chain bouncing as the spiked ball swung freely. “Who wants to keep arguing with me?”
The guards scattered, each of them muttering an apology or denial of some sort.
Within moments, the gates seamlessly opened.
Tyr stopped before us, giving a short nod. “Welcome. The hearing is about to begin. Please join us.”
Ingrid grinned. “We’d love to.”