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The past had caught up with her when she’d least expected it.

Mounting again, Mist took the road to the other side of the park and looked over Forest Hill and the Sunset District to the Pacific Ocean. Fog obscured the shore, though ordinarily the season would have been over this late in the year.

But “ordinarily” had become a meaningless word in San Francisco, while the rest of the world wallowed in ignorance. Across that vast expanse of water, no one had any idea what was going on in this jewel of the Pacific—a jewel that was only a single piece in a setting that would eventually encompass the entire planet, no matter which side was victorious.

“It does seem difficult to accept that the fate of this one city may determine that of all Midgard,” a soft voice said just behind her.

Mist dropped her hand from the knife at her hip and turned. “How did you get up here?”

Konur gazed out at the ocean, unperturbed by her irritation. Like most of the Alfar—who had always favored bright jewel tones in Asgard and Alfheim—the elf-lord had adopted darker, less conspicuous clothing that made his tall, lithe physique seem even leaner. “I borrowed one of the mortal’s motorcycles,” he said. “Unpleasantly noisy and offensively malodorous, but it is necessary to adapt.”

Looking past him, Mist saw the bike parked a few yards away and realized that if he’d been a Jotunn, she’d most likely be dead.

“You followed me?” she asked.

“Let us say that I was concerned about your mental state, and believed it would be better that you not travel unobserved.”

“It never occurred to you that I might just want to be alone for a while?”

“It did, but your life is too important to risk.”

“I can’t be the person you and everyone else wants me to be. Not all the time.”

The elf nodded, sympathy in his dark eyes. “You are Freya’s daughter. Surely you are stronger than you believe.”

“Did anyone ever tell you how Dainn used to lecture me?”

“In this particular sentiment, he was right.”

“What is it with elves and their habit of dodging direct questions?” She narrowed her eyes. “You never met him before, did you? In Asgard?”

“No. After he arrived in Asgard as a mysterious wanderer, he visited Alfheim but once, and without notifying anyone beforehand. Only a very few saw him before he left again.”

Mist remembered little hints Dainn had dropped about his dealings with his own people. She knew he’d never lived among the Alfar during his time as the All-father’s advisor, nor had he been close to any of the elves who frequented Valhalla, Odin’s hall.

Aside from that, she knew almost nothing about Dainn’s past before the betrayal and curse … except, of course, for his affair with Loki—who had posed as Freya—and his reputation as a wise, level-headed, and rational counselor.

“You must hate him,” she said, looking back out at the ocean.

Konur moved up beside her. “It is true that many of my people despise him for the shame he brought upon us, as well as for his betrayal. But there was a time when the Lady did trust him … and Loki most emphatically cannot be trusted.”

“So?”

“Things are not always what they seem.”

Mist started. Those were nearly the same words Dainn had written to her in his note. “You don’t think he’s a traitor?” she asked.

“I do not know. But this question still weighs upon your mind, and a time will come when you must meet him again.”

“Let
me
worry about that, okay?”

“You say you cannot be what everyone expects of you, yet you refuse to share your burdens.”

“I tried that once. It backfired rather badly.”

“The tree that does not bend with the wind must break.”

“Oh, sweet Baldr,” she said. “Please don’t do that.”

“I will refrain.” The elf gazed at her until she was forced to look at him again. “I know you do not confide in your mother, but—”

“Speaking of my mother,” Mist interrupted, “did you send your healers to her without telling anyone else?”

As calm and self-controlled though he usually was, the elf-lord actually blinked. “I became aware of the Lady’s affliction soon after she was returned to camp. Is there some difficulty?”

“Only that it seems strange that you wouldn’t tell Taylor, since he’s the one who brought her back.”

“And he was occupied with the arrival of the new mortals,” Konur said.

“Then why didn’t the guards he set around the loft seem to know about the healers?”

“Did they not?” Konur’s brows lifted. “I did tell my people to be discreet, since I assumed you would not want the Lady’s state to become general knowledge as yet. Perhaps they were overly cautious.”

“Taylor was going to send for Eir,” she said thickly.

“Ah.” Konur bowed his head. “I grieve for your loss.”

“It was a loss for all of us. Eir might have figured out what was wrong with Freya.” She took a moment to regain her composure. “If you didn’t speak to Taylor, how do you know what actually happened to Freya? Did one of his people tell you?”

“No. I had hoped you could tell me.”

Mist rubbed her arms and glanced longingly at Silfr. This, unfortunately, wasn’t something she could run away from.

“All I can say is that it happened very suddenly,” she said, “and it felt very much like a deliberate attack.”

“It was my understanding that you and your observers detected no sign of Loki or his minions near the location.”

“Right.”

“Magic always leaves its signature. I believe you would have known if Loki had been the perpetrator.”

“That’s what I assumed. But there isn’t anyone else in Midgard who could do something like that to Freya.”

Konur slanted her a glance she couldn’t quite interpret. But she wasn’t really paying attention, because another very unpleasant idea was forming in her mind.

“What if her magic has failed?” she asked aloud.

“In what way?” Konur asked, his eyes intent on her face.

“She as much as admitted that the body she borrowed is giving out on her. Maybe this was the last straw.”

The elf wore an expression of someone who’d just had his worst fears confirmed. “If this is true,” he said, “then another vessel must be found for her. And quickly.”

11

“You knew about the problem?” Mist asked.

“I was there when Freya attained her current body.”

“You mean when the elf-woman donated it for Freya’s use.” Mist wrapped her arms around her chest. “She’s still alive, isn’t she?”

“She survives as the Aesir do,” Konur said, “as a mind encased in a shape that appears physical only within the Shadow-Realms.”

“But Freya said that she helped you and the other Alfar generate true physical forms in Ginnungagap, so that you could travel to Midgard.”

The elf raised a brow. “Did you have reason to doubt her claim? I can assure you that it is true.”

“She also said that making the Aesir physical bodies was much harder, and that she wasn’t strong enough to pull it off yet.”

“Indeed. And that is why, if her present body is no longer able to support Freya’s magic, she must obtain another and return this one before it is no longer of use to its original owner.”

Sick at the thought of what Konur was implying, Mist sat down on the brown grass beside the road. “Setting aside the question of
how
she’s supposed to return it, just where do you think she’s going to find an appropriate body? By traveling back to Ginnungagap and asking for another volunteer?”

“If she is as ill as she seems, that will probably not be possible.”

“Then you’re talking about finding a subject here in Midgard.”

He crouched beside her. “Do you believe that to be so unlikely?”

“Let’s put it this way. Even if you can keep someone’s bodiless mind alive in the Void, it’s not the same in Midgard. You can’t just store something like that in a bottle.”

“Not in a bottle, no. But surely, with the use of the right spells…”

He trailed off, and Mist recognized that even this wise, experienced elf-lord didn’t know what the Hel he was talking about.

“You didn’t plan for this, did you?” she asked. “Freya never expected she’d fall so far behind. She thought she’d have her true shape back, and all the Aesir here fighting with us.”

“Her expectations do not change the current predicament,” Konur said. He placed his palm flat on the weeds growing along the curb, and withered brown showed a flush of green life. “This problem is real, and we must take swift action.”

“I’m not about to ask one of my mortals or Valkyrie to act as Freya’s host without a guarantee that their minds will be safe and they’ll get the rest back in undamaged condition.”

Konur lifted his hand, and the weeds drooped and blackened again. “If many are willing to die to save Midgard,” he said, “then they may be prepared to take this risk as well.”

At that moment, Mist despised the elf and his cold-blooded pragmatism. “No. I think we should go back and see if your healers have learned anything useful before we start sacrificing lives on the Lady’s altar.”

“I know your relationship with your mother has not always been amicable—”

Mist snorted.

“—but you know we cannot achieve victory without her magic.”

She turned to stare at him. “Let’s be clear about this, Lord Konur. You and I have fought side by side. You’ve led the Alfar well, and done everything I asked of you. But I also know that you and Freya have been keeping secrets you haven’t let me in on, and that doesn’t exactly inspire feelings of good faith.”

“What is it you wish to know?”

“During our last fight with the Jotunar, Freya said that you agreed to become her warriors for a very generous reward. What did she mean?”

Konur stood up quickly, his long overcoat swirling around his ankles. “She promised that the Alfar should take possession of large tracts of forested land on this world, after we defeated Loki.”

Mist began to reply and stopped, thinking back to one of her earlier conversations with Dainn. The elf had said that the Aesir intended to build a new Homeworld in Midgard, and Mist had been forced to consider the very real possibility of gods sharing the Earth with humans.

Now Konur had given her a prime example of what was coming. No nature-loving elf would agree to stay behind in the Void if she had a chance at planting her feet in uncultivated soil again, no matter how polluted by elvish standards.

“Freya made this promise to you before you ever got here?” Mist asked. “Unilaterally? Or did all the Aesir decide this, and she was just the one who negotiated for your services?”

“We are not mercenaries to be bought and sold,” Konur said, a cold note in his voice. “Is this so unreasonable a price for these Midgardians to pay for the survival of their world?”

“It is if they have no say in where or how the peoples of the other Homeworlds will settle here. It is if you toss the current inhabitants of those lands out on their ear.” She calmed herself with a deep breath. “Will the Aesir impose some kind of dictatorship, the way Loki would?”

“I can speak only for my people,” Konur said stiffly. “We wish no harm on mortalkind. Long ago, many of us made our homes here. But we must live, and we cannot exist in these places of steel and stone.”

Mist ran her hand over her face. “I know,” she said. “But I’ve also made my home here, and you can’t expect me to forget all the years I’ve spent living with and fighting alongside mortals.”

“I know you regard yourself as the spokesman for the inhabitants of Midgard, but do you truly consider yourself to be more one of them than of your own true kin?”

I don’t know what I consider myself to be,
Mist thought.
I never did
.

“Let’s put it this way,” she said. “Assuming I survive, what if I insisted that the mortals have some input when this is over? Would you listen to me?”

“
Would
you insist?”

“I might not give you everything you wanted.”

“Then you would place me in a most difficult position.”

“Why? I’m only half-goddess. I’d hardly be able to stand in your way if you and Freya opposed me.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

It was such an odd question that Mist didn’t quite know how to answer. “It’s a moot point,” she said. “I’m still Odin’s servant. He’ll have the final say, won’t he?”

Or will I defy him if he insists on doling out the better parts of Earth to the Aesir and their allies?

Mist pushed the thought out of her mind. There was still no guarantee that Odin or any of the others would ever show up. Or that
any
of them would be alive to see the end of the war.

She jumped up and started toward Silfr, her jaw aching with anger.

“Mist,” Konur called, striding after her.

Pulling on her helmet, she turned to face him again. “I need to get back. Can you find your way if we become separated?”

“I can.”

Swinging her leg over Silfr’s seat, Mist started the engine. She roared away without waiting to see if Konur was behind her.

When she reached the loft, Hild and Rota were waiting for her, their expressions solemn with worry.

“What is it?” Mist asked, jumping off the bike. “Freya?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Rota said. She glanced at Hild, who offered Mist an open envelope.

It took Mist less than five seconds to realize why her Sisters looked so grim. “Loki?” she said in disbelief. “Loki wants a meeting with Freya?”

Konur’s bike pulled up behind her. He dismounted and joined them, peering over Mist’s shoulder at the bizarre invitation.

“What trick is this?” he murmured.

Mist handed him the note. He scanned it with a frown.

“‘There are matters we must discuss,’” he read, and turned the beautifully engraved card over. A simple address had been written out in the Runic alphabet, along with a time.

“Another trap,” Hild said.

“A test,” Mist said, taking the note card back from the elf. “Lord Konur, you said that magic always leaves a signature, and we didn’t detect Loki near the plaza. He may not have caused the trouble or hurt Freya himself, but I’m betting that he
does
know that something happened to her. And considering the location, he probably doesn’t intend this to be a private meeting.”