A faint gleam in Homer’s gray eyes was his only acknowledgment of the wonder in mine. “The great ash tree, Yggdrasil. Those are its roots in the Bilröst—that’s what they call this fjord.”

I swallowed. “What do you know about this place?”

“I’ve never been here,” Vishnu offered wryly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but I’ll tell you this: from what I hear, if they throw you a tournament, the king won’t be watching from a throne.”

Below the cliffs and the great ash tree, Lysefjord’s harbor was a menagerie of ships. Bright rowboats bobbed like golden finches and bluebirds alongside huge vessels whose swooping prows and sterns were carved like horses and sea snakes. As Homer called out orders and the crew brought the Beholder to port among them, Andersen pressed my hand between his. “Good luck, girl. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

I smiled at his kindness, at his soft Savannah accent that so reminded me of my mother and Godmother Althea. “You, too.” I paused, laughing. “I mean, thank you.”

Andersen gave me a funny look, pushing his graying blond hair out of his eyes, and nodded. “I knew what you meant.”

The crew carried our bags down the gangplank and onto a wagon. I waved feverishly back at Vishnu and Homer and Basile and Yu and the others as huge golden horses drew our cart away, up a road carved into the cliffside that led us past wide fields of grain and a village of long, low homes. Tall, broad-shouldered people wiped their hands on rough-knit sweaters and paused in their work as we rattled by.

Sitting between Captain Lang and me, J.J. shrank from their stares, biting his nails and jiggling his leg.

I thought of asking Lang why he was bringing J.J. ashore instead of Yu. J.J. was barely in his teens, and while he made himself useful aboard ship and made good company in general, I wasn’t sure what he’d do for two weeks at court. But even after several days at sea, my peace with Lang felt tentative—delicate, even. I hesitated to question him, even in this.

In the meantime, Skop rambled, warm and reassuring, on my left, and Perrault and Cobie bickered quietly in the other cart. But when the fortress came into view over a gargantuan stone wall crowned with iron spikes, none of us could find words.

Asgard Fortress was a soaring thing built of earth and sky. Massive gray stones were fitted tightly between wall-size windows. Strong iron beams marked its corners and the seams between glass and rock.