I looked away from the rest of the group as they began to murmur, and shame tightened my chest. Another reminder that despite the stag choosing me for the job, I was absolute shit at it. Unable to even reach the liminal realm by myself despite the stag being a liminal. Despite trying to keep my failures under wraps, now multiple people knew. I didn’t blame Diaval for disclosing the information. It was needed in this context. But the sick feeling inside of me, the one of bitter disappointment, was hard to ignore.

So what, a voice told me, and it thankfully wasn’t Lydian’s. You’ll get better at this. You can master this.

This time, Soren grasped my forearm with his hand and squeezed gently to comfort me.

Right. Self-loathing gets you nowhere.

“The problem is that Lydian’s shade is still being held by Hel,” I continued. “He’s not dead and can’t properly pass on due to not having the burial rites done, but he’s also not alive either and that means that he’s the property of Hel. We need to get him back, one way or another.”

Once again, the others stared at me blankly. “You want to haggle for Lydian’s spirit with Hel?” Rosamund asked incredulously. “Even Frigga couldn’t do that for Baldur. Like, she managed to rally up every creature ever to bring back her son, and she was the queen of Asgard, and even she couldn’t get him out.”

“Technically, Baldur was already dead, and Frigga wanted him to come back to life fully. Lydian’s still kind of existing. So, the situations are different,” Seppo said, earning a glare from his partner. “What? It’s true!”

Rosamund pinched the bridge of his nose. “You get my point. She’s not about to hand over someone’s spirit even to the Erlking and the stag. She’s Hel.”

“While Rosamund could have said it more tactfully.” Satu spoke up for the first time, her voice low and calm. “He is right. Hel is fickle and will do anything to keep what she has in her grasp. She’s cunning, possessive, and dangerous. She’s also much less forgiving of slights than, say, a giantess goddess like Skadi.” Satu’s dark eyes flickered over to Soren at the last bit of her sentence.

“Am I ever going to find out what you did to piss her off?” I asked Soren.

Blood pooled in Soren’s cheeks as he blushed, turning the white-blue skin a darkish purple. “Not if I live to be a million years.”

“Jeez,” Seppo said. “You look really weird when you blush, Soren.”

Soren narrowed his eyes. “I was not blushing.”

“Liar,” Rosamund muttered from his place at the table.

“I think it looks wonderful,” I cut in, hoping to stop an argument.