Fredrik nodded. “He misses you, too. I know it.” He paused, scratching at the crown of his head. “I’ve never seen him happier, lucky bastard. So-serious Torden and the girl of his dreams.”

“And now I have to go.”

“For now,” Fredrik said simply. “But this isn’t over.”

I watched Vishnu summon another boatload of luggage from the deck rail, watched Cobie and Basile and Jeanne adjust our sails, and swallowed hard. “It looks pretty over to me. Your father seemed to think so, anyway.”

Fredrik’s mouth hooked in a sharp grin. “I know a thing or two about relationships turning permanent, Selah, because those signs are my cue to run. But Torden—” His gaze narrowed. “This is not over tonight. Not for him.”

“Selah!”

My heart leapt in my chest, and I turned back to face the Beholder, eager to see Skop’s face for myself, to put days of worry to rest. And there he was.

With Anya beside him. She waved at us happily, blond hair aglow in the moonlight. Fredrik’s breath went out in a huff.

“Selah, take the helm.” Without another moment’s warning, Fredrik loosened a line and swung from Skídbladnir to the Beholder’s deck.

I pushed my hands into my hair, unable to believe the sight of her. Anya must have found Skop somewhere and struck out with him to meet the ship.

I was so glad to see her safe. But Anya’s escape had precipitated mine. And I hadn’t been ready to say goodbye.

Relief and frustration were a thunderstorm in my chest.

Fredrik covered the distance between himself and his sister in four long strides and wrapped her in an embrace. I couldn’t hear what he said, but the crumpled shape of his mouth and the tight squeeze of his closed eyes told me things Fredrik had never said aloud.

“I have to,” Anya said, her words clear even across the distance between us.

Fredrik nodded, exhaling a long breath. “I know.” He swallowed hard and squeezed his sister again. The muscles in his back were trembling when he let go, and his jaw was tight as he extended one hand to Skop and clapped the other on his broad shoulder.

I looked away, back to my fingers white-knuckled on Skídbladnir’s rudder. I wished I could turn the boat around and sail back up the fjord, back to Asgard and back into Torden’s arms.

Instead, when Fredrik returned, I hugged him goodbye and left the way he came, ignoring the rowboat Basile and Vishnu were already lowering into the water for me. When my feet hit the Beholder’s deck, I turned and saluted him, swallowing around the lump in my throat, blinking away the tears in my eyes. Fredrik barked a laugh that echoed against the rock walls of the fjord and dipped into a bow.