Something molten and glowing crystallized inside me, in my chest or my guts, and I wasn’t scared, for once, to do what I wanted to do. I took Torden’s face in my hands, brushing his hair from his forehead. His wonderstruck eyes held mine only a moment before I stretched forward and kissed him on the mouth.

Dawn over the Bilröst was rosy and mild, but our kiss was thunder and lightning, burning my body. And in that instant, I didn’t feel even the faintest trace of fear. I could have fought Alessandra, scaled Yggdrasil clear to the foot of Asgard, tied myself to the prow of the Beholder with my arms outstretched and dared the wine-dark sea to defy me.

Torden lifted me easily onto his lap, gathering me in. I was awkward at first, out of sync, but his lips were so steady, his hands so certain as he slid his fingers into my hair, that I fell into his rhythm.

When we drew apart, flushed and smiling uncertainly, I shook my head. “That was . . .”

“Beautiful.” Torden glanced down at me, panting. “You’re beautiful.”

Shaking, I kissed him once more, softly this time, and leaned my head against his chest. “I’m glad you chose me,” I said. “I’m so glad it was you.”

“I may have chosen you, but I hardly had any choice in the matter,” Torden said into my hair. “It was clear as day to me from the beginning that you were the one.”

My heart ached with the rightness of his arms around me, of his voice in my ear and his hands in my hands.

He was my rescue. And together, we’d save my father.

As the sun climbed over the water, I knew with as much conviction as I’d ever felt that I belonged with Torden, and he belonged with me.

47

Our kisses and our confessions opened a floodgate.

I told Torden about my momma, about my godmother and Daddy and Potomac. He told me about growing up at Asgard, about visiting his uncle Heimdalr, who guarded the mouth of the Bilröst, about life before and then after Anya and Fredrik and Aleksei came along. He even told me about the scuffles he still insisted weren’t his fault. “They insulted our mother!” he’d protest, or swear he was only backing up his brothers.

I held up my palms. “I’ve never had the urge to hit anyone.”

Bragi laughed at this. “Marry him and you’ll come to know the feeling.”

We only held hands in front of his brothers—and that alone was enough to invite their mockery. But when the others weren’t looking, he’d catch me around the waist and kiss me until I was dizzy, upright only because of the constant echo of his heartbeat in my chest and his arms around me.