“If you’re bored with him, I’m frustrated with him.” I shook my head. “No, more than that. I want to stick my sword in him.”

“Would slow him down,” Thruor opined.

“But he’d only be even more attracted to me,” I grumbled. “And I’m not going to turn into a fainting daisy.”

Kanesha cracked open a can of root beer. “Maybe I should be the one to do it.”

“You aren’t ready yet,” Thruor said, simply. “It’s not a bad idea, but right now he’d probably kill you.”

I wondered if Kanesha would ever be ready. Could she develop enough skill to overcome the weakness of being a mere human fighting supernaturals? I knew that was an unfair thing to even think.

But it was on the table, it had to be.

“I’m working on it,” she said with more confidence than I felt, and I swept the thought off of my mental table.

Kanesha could do it if anyone could, and if not, well…if he touched her, I had a feeling he’d get into real trouble.

“Maybe I should talk to Odin about him.”

Thruor pursed her lips. “Odin hasn’t stepped in yet. That almost certainly means he thinks you can handle the situation.”

A compliment, then. “I can handle it. I’m just kind of tired of handling it.” How could I not be, given the circumstances? I couldn’t see any end to it. I couldn’t see any way of getting rid of him.

I’d have to put up with him at the edge of my life for decades, at this rate. He wasn’t going to be convinced. “I’m going for a walk.”

Thruor rested a hand on my arm as I stood. “We’ll work something out.”

I shook her off, but gently. She was only trying to help, and it wasn’t her fault he had me feeling homicidal again.

Or at least like a good workout. I didn’t just go for a walk – as soon as I was out of the house I broke into a steady run, trying to burn off the anger that way. If I couldn’t solve the problem, then I had to work out how to live with it.

What if he promised safety for Kanesha? I knew better.

What if I could get him to fight Surtur? Play them off against each other? I had a feeling my father would be proud, but I couldn’t think of any way to do it that wasn’t offering myself to the winner.

Atalanta, I thought, had had things much easier with her foot race.