absolutely necessary…and I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to focus on finding the tenth realm with an anxious god hovering over me. I crossed my fingers underneath the table. What Ull didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt him. Besides, Olaug said she would protect me. How much trouble could we really get into? “Agreed.”
We ate in earnest. We had a long night ahead of us.
But something was off. Olaug wasn’t herself. She was normally a strong, vivacious woman, similar in many ways to my own grandmother. Tonight she was quieter, slower, and much wearier than I’d ever seen. Ull seemed too worried about me to pay attention to much else, so I didn’t bother pointing out that Olaug seemed practically frail. But the moment we saw him safely through the Bifrost I pointed to the leather chair next to the armor with my sternest face.
“Sit,” I commanded.
“Pardon?” Olaug tutted her disapproval. “Kristia, you know we do not have time for pleasantries.”
“I don’t care. Sit down while I fix you a cup of tea.”
“We really cannot—”
“Please, Mormor,” I pleaded. She softened at my nickname.
“Oh, all right. But we have five minutes. That is all.”
“I only need four.” I turned for the small kitchen in the chamber below Ýdalir and quickly assembled a pot of hot water with teabags, lemon, and honey.
Olaug tilted her head when I brought her the tray. “Thank you, Kristia, but I prefer milk.”
“I know you do. But if you’re sick—and don’t try to tell me you’re feeling one hundred percent because it’s obviously not true—then you need lemon and honey.”
“Kristia.” Olaug shook her head. “I am fine. Really.”
“What’s going on?” I knelt beside her and poured the tea. “Does it have anything to do with that dream I had the night before my wedding?”
“Your dream?”
“My dream .” I waited, but Olaug just blinked at me. “You know, the one where that monster Elf Man said he gave you a magical disease? That it was going to…really hurt you. And the only way to heal you would be to destroy him?”
“I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Stubborn Asgardians,” I muttered as I squeezed lemon into her cup. “I’ll get it out of you eventually. You may as well tell me so I’m not distracted for the rest of the night. You know I need to focus.”
“Very well.” Olaug took the teacup gratefully. “But I do not want you to tell Ull just yet. He worries enough about things.”
Truer words had never been spoken. “What’s going on with you?”
“I do not know.” Olaug’s forehead wrinkled as she furrowed her brow. “I have never felt ill a day in my life. Gods cannot be sick; you know this.”
“I do.”
“But these past few days have been so different. I feel like I have lost strength. It started two days ago. When I woke up I was tired, and I am never tired when I wake. I have gone to sleep and gotten up at the same time for the past—well, for a long time.”
“I’m sure.” My own grandmother had been a creature of habit after seventy-two years. I could only imagine the kind of routines one could establish after an eternity.
“But I was exhausted from the minute I woke up. I would have gone back to bed if I weren’t so confused. How can a god feel sick?”
“What happened?” I sat across from her and poured a cup of tea for myself.
“I went about my day as usual, but with each hour I felt weaker. It was like something was taking my strength from the inside. At first I could handle the physical rigors of the day: cooking, tidying, my calls to Asgard, but by early afternoon, I had to lie down. I slept through the rest of the night. And of course, by morning, I’d heard about Balder.”
“Did you feel at all rested in the morning?”
“No. I felt worse. My bones ached and I was exhausted.”
“Do you need apples? Do you want me to call Idunn?” Apples seemed to be the answer to everything around here. The goddess
We ate in earnest. We had a long night ahead of us.
But something was off. Olaug wasn’t herself. She was normally a strong, vivacious woman, similar in many ways to my own grandmother. Tonight she was quieter, slower, and much wearier than I’d ever seen. Ull seemed too worried about me to pay attention to much else, so I didn’t bother pointing out that Olaug seemed practically frail. But the moment we saw him safely through the Bifrost I pointed to the leather chair next to the armor with my sternest face.
“Sit,” I commanded.
“Pardon?” Olaug tutted her disapproval. “Kristia, you know we do not have time for pleasantries.”
“I don’t care. Sit down while I fix you a cup of tea.”
“We really cannot—”
“Please, Mormor,” I pleaded. She softened at my nickname.
“Oh, all right. But we have five minutes. That is all.”
“I only need four.” I turned for the small kitchen in the chamber below Ýdalir and quickly assembled a pot of hot water with teabags, lemon, and honey.
Olaug tilted her head when I brought her the tray. “Thank you, Kristia, but I prefer milk.”
“I know you do. But if you’re sick—and don’t try to tell me you’re feeling one hundred percent because it’s obviously not true—then you need lemon and honey.”
“Kristia.” Olaug shook her head. “I am fine. Really.”
“What’s going on?” I knelt beside her and poured the tea. “Does it have anything to do with that dream I had the night before my wedding?”
“Your dream?”
“My dream .” I waited, but Olaug just blinked at me. “You know, the one where that monster Elf Man said he gave you a magical disease? That it was going to…really hurt you. And the only way to heal you would be to destroy him?”
“I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Stubborn Asgardians,” I muttered as I squeezed lemon into her cup. “I’ll get it out of you eventually. You may as well tell me so I’m not distracted for the rest of the night. You know I need to focus.”
“Very well.” Olaug took the teacup gratefully. “But I do not want you to tell Ull just yet. He worries enough about things.”
Truer words had never been spoken. “What’s going on with you?”
“I do not know.” Olaug’s forehead wrinkled as she furrowed her brow. “I have never felt ill a day in my life. Gods cannot be sick; you know this.”
“I do.”
“But these past few days have been so different. I feel like I have lost strength. It started two days ago. When I woke up I was tired, and I am never tired when I wake. I have gone to sleep and gotten up at the same time for the past—well, for a long time.”
“I’m sure.” My own grandmother had been a creature of habit after seventy-two years. I could only imagine the kind of routines one could establish after an eternity.
“But I was exhausted from the minute I woke up. I would have gone back to bed if I weren’t so confused. How can a god feel sick?”
“What happened?” I sat across from her and poured a cup of tea for myself.
“I went about my day as usual, but with each hour I felt weaker. It was like something was taking my strength from the inside. At first I could handle the physical rigors of the day: cooking, tidying, my calls to Asgard, but by early afternoon, I had to lie down. I slept through the rest of the night. And of course, by morning, I’d heard about Balder.”
“Did you feel at all rested in the morning?”
“No. I felt worse. My bones ached and I was exhausted.”
“Do you need apples? Do you want me to call Idunn?” Apples seemed to be the answer to everything around here. The goddess
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