This wasn’t the reaction I expected I’d have when I found out who my father was. But then again, when I’d imagined finding out who my birth parents were, I’d always pictured them telling me themselves. Sometimes I feared the worst, that they gave me up because they hated me. Other times, they’d embrace me with open arms and apologize for all the years we’d lost.

But to do either of those things, they had to be here, and they had to be alive. Thor had died eight years ago in a stupid bar fight, and according to Indu and Illaria, Senka had died some time ago.

So my parents weren’t here, and they never would be. They could never tell me why they abandoned me, or if they ever even loved me.

Had Thor known that I was his daughter, or did he think that I was Indu’s? Did he know that I had been left in Iskyla?

Was it his idea to abandon me or was it my mother’s? Did he want to see me?

Had he told Bodil about me?

Did she know about me?

“Ulla, are you all right?” Dagny asked, and put her hand on my back. I leaned over the sink, with cold water running from the tap, and I splashed it on my face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if it was true, and I turned off the faucet.

“This is why I prefer to do things more slowly,” Elof said, his tone meant to chastise Dagny as she walked with me back to the island. “It gives everyone more time to process info.”

I sat on the stool and leaned heavily on the island. “I don’t know why I reacted like that.” I exhaled shakily and felt a painful lump growing in my throat. “I’m okay now.”

But the truth was that I had no idea how I felt. I was strangely separate from my body, like I was hovering above myself, watching all of this happen to someone else. Another girl with blond hair sat across from Elof, listening patiently and nodding along as he explained how to process shocking information.

Was this shocking, though?

When I was younger, I used to tell everyone my parents were royalty and star-crossed lovers. As I got older, I made my peace with my adolescent fantasies as just that.

Except now it turned out it was sort of true.

I thought back to the huge portrait I’d seen back in the Omte palace. Thor had presumably sat for it, wearing a crooked bronze crown and a warm smile nearly hidden in his bushy beard. In the painting, he’d been larger than life. But he had to have been a big guy in reality, with a thick neck, barrel chest, and broad shoulders.

I must’ve gotten my super strength from him, I realized.