“Boys,” Anya said softly, laying a hand on each of their arms. Torden’s tensed, veins rising; Aleksei’s looked fragile beside it, his bones delicate as a bird’s. Neither boy said anything.

Suddenly, Fredrik threw down his fork and knife, stretching and yawning. “I need to get some sleep.”

“You mean you need to go meet Kjerstin or Ida or Janne or whoever it is this week,” Aleksei snickered.

Fredrik glared at Aleksei. “It’s Lisbet, and this time is different.” At this, even Torden gave a good-natured snort.

Hermódr leaned forward to tousle Fredrik’s hair. “Where have we heard that before?”

Fredrik slapped Hermódr’s hand away. Before I knew what was happening, Anya’s brother had seized Hermódr by the collar and they were wrestling over the stone floor. Men nearby cheered as Bragi and Torden jumped in—Bragi to defend Fredrik, Torden taking Hermódr’s side. I jumped back, and so did Aleksei, casting a quick glance at Alfödr, but Skop and Anya hovered close, amused.

“But Hermódr’s glasses . . . ?” I asked sheepishly.

Skop gave me a wry look that said, Don’t be a stick in the mud.

“Will be fine,” Anya hurried to reassure me. “They are only playing. Brothers,” she sighed, flashing Skop a winning smile. His ears turned pink.

I shrugged, envying her the easy companionship of the boys whooping and tumbling over the floor. Her friends—her brothers. “I wouldn’t know.”

The Asgard boys jostled Fredrik good-naturedly—Bragi calling after him with advice, Aleksei with inappropriate suggestions—as they headed off to bed and he left to find Lisbet, wherever she was.

Anya installed the Beholder crew where there was space for us to stay—Captain Lang, J.J., and Perrault in a room near Valaskjálf, Cobie with a stranger. I pitied her, but she didn’t seem to mind. Skop was given a room just large enough for one, and from the coats and boots heaped along the far wall, I suspected it had been a closet before our arrival. His single bag waited on the iron bed that filled the rest of the space.

“Please call on me if you need anything, First Mate Koniag,” Anya said with a smile. “We are not far.”

He pushed his dark hair off his forehead, grinning unselfconsciously. “Please, Prinsessa. Call me Skop.”

“If you like.” His smile broadened as Anya batted her lashes and pushed through the very next door.

Yes! Skop mouthed, punching the air.

I stifled a laugh. Sucker, I mouthed back. I ignored his gentle but profane silent response and followed Anya into her room.

Anya flopped on her bed, blond wood like the rest of her furniture. I held up my rosary and pointed to one of the bedposts. “Do you mind if I . . . ?”

She shook her head, unconcerned. “Not at all. We’ll have this room to ourselves.”