Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
"Of course she is," Rissa agrees. "But that doesn't mean they haven't worked out how to manipulate her visions to send things they want you to see. Do you know how the visions work?" Rissa glances at Adriel. "Do you?" She looks to Damrion and then to me. "For all you know, they do. Telling yourself comforting lies won't win this battle. Believe me, I've been there."
What lies has she told herself? What horrors has she seen in her short life? I'm almost afraid to find out, but I need to know. Helping her heal from them will be the key to winning her heart, I'm sure of it.
And I'm not satisfied with merely possessing her soul. I want every corner of this fierce little Valkyrie's heart, too.
"I saw what she saw," Rissa continues quietly, fire in her eyes. "I felt what she did. If your Gods visited that upon her, then maybe the Light deserves to fall. Because that was pure hell, and she's been enduring it for years. Years!" She spears every single one of us with a hard look. "And each and every one of you has willingly allowed her to do it."
"It's not their fault," Abigail cries. "Don't be mad at them. Please."
"Nei, ást-meer," Damrion says, shoving a hand through his hair, his expression troubled. He looks at Abigail and sees a shining Light. Of course he's never considered that her visions may not all flow from the same source. None of us have considered it. "She's right to call us to task. We swore an oath to protect the Valkyrie, not to exploit their gifts when it suits our purposes. We should have been guarding you better." He blows out a breath. "If she's correct and the Forsaken have been sending some of your visions, we've failed you."
"You didn't," Abigail cries, flinging her arms around the warrior. "You've never failed me, Damrion."
The warrior sighs, not so easily convinced. I can't blame him. Rissa doesn't understand why we do what we do, but she's not entirely wrong. Abigail may be a powerful Seer, but she is still human. And a young one at that. We should be guarding her better. Not because we can't afford for the Forsaken to get their hands on her. Not because of what she does for us. But simply because we're the only family she has now.
"Regardless of where the vision originated, we'll be walking into a trap meant for her," Adriel says, nodding at Rissa. "If they want her in Seattle, it's for a reason."
"Ja," I agree. I've considered that. But if we don't go, defeat is all but guaranteed because my brave little Valkyrie will never forgive us if we sacrifice the people she loves in their hour of need. She'll never forgive me.
And that possibility is intolerable. I need her trust. It's the only way I'll ever win her heart.
"How do you feel, elskan-ljós?" I ask an hour later, setting a stack of clothing on top of the dresser as I step inside the bedroom. I watch warily as Rissa paces back and forth, restless and ill at ease. I don't think she's rested at all since I brought her upstairs. I don't think she's capable of letting herself. Her friends are in danger, and it weighs heavily on her heart.
"Sore." She turns curious blue eyes on me. "Are the visions always like that for her?"
I hesitate, caught between a comforting lie and the truth. "Nei," I admit. "When you touched her, you linked with her. It amplified her power."
Her face falls. "I made it worse."
"You didn't know."
"You could have told me." She blows out a breath, pressing her palms to her cheeks. "You should have told me when I was telling all of you off for letting her go through that. You guys just let me tell you off when I was the one really hurting her. Why?"
"Because you weren't wrong." I cross toward her, gently tugging her hands away from her face. "We shouldn't be so willing to allow her to endure such pain. There is no honor in it."
"Then why do it?" she asks, searching my face as if she's genuinely curious. There's no judgement in her question, just a genuine desire to understand.
"It's been three hundred years since the Valkyrie last ferried a soul to Helheim, lyseste ljós," I murmur, linking our fingers together. "How many do you think have escaped in that time? How many do you think still roam free?"
"Dax," she whispers, her expression stricken. "Are you saying that every person who has died in the last three hundred years is either roaming, waiting to be ferried to the afterlife, or their souls have been taken by the Forsaken?"
"Ja, Valkyrie. That's precisely what I'm saying. There is no honor in allowing Abigail to carry the weight she carries. But without her visions, we're blind, fighting an enemy we cannot defeat. And the longer we stumble, the longer every soul in the realms is at risk. We stumbled in the dark for three hundred years, trying to do this task alone, and we didn't come anywhere close. With her, we're able to find the Blooded and gather them close. Because of her, we found you." I bring her fingers to my lips, brushing kisses across her knuckles. "The Light has always demanded a high price for its greatest gifts, but we pay it because we must. Because there is no other way. The Forsaken cannot win."