Episode Thirty-Three: Taken: Scene 24

Whether it was the trap or not, we moved to where we were hiding outside the city. Taking different routes and separately, just in case.


He knew I was here.


And I was starting to get sure this guy was the trap. It was just too convenient.


The thing is? Surtur was not the only person who knew I was here.


The giantess showed up later that night. At least she had the decency to knock on the door of the barn we were in, but then she bellowed, “Siglaugr Lokisdottir!” loud enough to reach Hel’s Realm.


I sighed. “Thanks,” and went and opened the door, figuring she would only make noise until I let her in.


“Surtur is mine.”


I shook my head. “You can have him as far as I’m concerned.”


“As long as you live he will long for you.”


Did she intend to kill me?


“He can long all he likes. I’m here to get the person I actually want and then go home.”


“He won’t stop chasing you.” She had a hand on her blade.


“Well, maybe you can convince him he’s better off with you. And fixing problems rather than fighting wars.” I kept my gaze on her. “I don’t want to fight you.”


“I will be queen.”


“Like I said. You’re welcome to it.” I studied my rival for unwanted affections. “I don’t know what you see in him.”


At least she wasn’t rushing in, although that might have had something to do with the fact that I now had a dwarf on either side of me.


Her lips quirked. “There’s plenty to see in him. When he is not going crazy, and who’s fault is that?”


“His.” I kept my voice even. “We’re not opposed here. Do you have any idea how to stop what’s going on?”


“The blasted lands…no.”


“I might.” I did not want to fight her. She might be the solution to the problem if we could convince Surtur that she would be a worthy queen.


And then I could…but I knew I could not. It was as if raven feathers drifted across my vision for a moment.




I would try, regardless of what Odin might have to say about the matter. If I failed, so be it, but… “If we work together.”
She took her hand off of her sword. “You and your rag tag band.”


“We are a bit of a motley crew,” Mike said from the corner, grinning.


“One valkyrie, two dwarves, one einherior.” She counted us off like that. “And you, not yet fully decided. Definitely a motley crew.”


It did not sound as insulting the second time around.


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