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Back The Beholder Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Books by Anna Bright
  63. Back Ad
  64. About the Publisher

When Anya was dressed, she didn’t fasten the amber and gold necklace around her neck. Smug on Skop’s behalf that she’d set aside the relic of a former flame, I dragged her to my jewelry box, and she chose a delicate chain with a little golden charm shaped like a kitten from its depths.

“I used to have cats in Varsinais-Suomi,” Anya said sadly. “Alfödr says pets are a waste of resources.”

He would. I fastened the chain around her neck, smiling. “It’s all yours.”

When Skop came to our door to escort us to the Valaskjálf, I checked myself one last time in her mirror, almost shy at the sight of my own reflection. I turned to Anya, twisting my fingers together, clinging to the remains of the dizzying confidence I’d felt earlier that day. “What do you think?”

Skop smiled as Anya seized my hand and tugged me toward the corridor.

“Don’t change a thing,” she insisted, then winked. “Come on. Torden’s waiting.”

41

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My eyes found him the moment we walked into Valaskjálf.

The Asgard boys were dressed like the rest of the drengs, their white military dress trousers and gold epaulets and brass buttons gleaming in the firelight. Alfödr’s sons were an imposing crowd, handsome, laughing and shouting over one another—but I could only watch Torden.

He quit roughhousing with Hermódr, a smile hooking the corner of his lips as he took me in. My heart went abruptly still, my skin warming beneath his stare.

Hi, he mouthed.

I gave a tiny wave, though by now we were halfway across the hall. Hi.

Fredrik rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. Torden grunted, grabbing at his side. I stifled a laugh.

Valaskjálf’s long tables had been pushed nearer its perimeter to free up space for dancing. Colorful dresses and military jackets in Norsk blue and Varsinais-Suomi red filled its benches and aisles—though no one wore their clothes quite as well as Torden. When he caught me staring at him again, I flicked my gaze to the tapestries on the walls, woven not with images but foreign words.

Torden drew a chair out for me beside him. “Our library,” he said in my ear.

I gave a shivery laugh. “What?”

“We have few paper books here. The København royal library down in Jylland is much larger.” Hermódr settled down across from me, sounding wistful.

“But our most important tales we keep where everyone can read them,” said Bragi. “Well, everyone who can read, anyway.”

Skop frowned. “What do you mean?”