Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
The movements are addicting to watch. “Did they volunteer?”
“Handpicked.” Rowen suddenly pipes up. “Right? By Sigurd himself?”
“Clever.” Reeve winks at me. “And yes, they just have something about them. Can’t you feel it?”
My mouth drops open. “Are they—”
“I can answer that,” Reeve interrupts. I’d really prefer he didn’t. “They’re chosen, important, special, though they just think it’s a program for the gifted. Soon they’ll all remember, and soon they’ll have the power to do a lot more. At least that’s the hope.”
Sigurd clears his throat into the mic. “Beautifully done, students. Now, if you’ll look to the tables, you’ll each find a rune, or what we like to call party favors from the Gods. Before the Hunt begins, choose yours carefully. Hold it close, whisper your wish, kiss the stone, and toss it into any of the surrounding bonfires. That fire represents your vow, your promise, your beginning here at Endir. A journey you and only you can take.”
The crowd quiets as flames from the surrounding bonfires leap skyward, sparks scattering like stars. Father hasn’t moved a muscle still, but I do see his jaw tense. Maybe because years ago, he did this for his people, for Asgard, for humanity, and Sigurd has hijacked it.
“From there, the tradition is simple. You’ll go together in groups or pairs—never wander alone, not tonight—and follow the marked trails into the forest. Which path you choose is up to you, but each holds its own challenge. Some of you will find feasts laid out along the way; some will stumble into games you must complete to keep going; others, perhaps, into shadows that don’t belong to the living. Ghosts, demons, spirits of the fallen—consider them part of the fun. Survive them, laugh at them, scream if you have to—but make it through.” He shrugs. “We do ask that no flash photography takes place. Let’s keep things as authentic as possible.”
“Don’t die!” some idiot yells.
A ripple of nervous laughter spreads through the students.
Father actually smirks at that and looks down. I wonder what it was like…before his obsession for knowledge made him into this. Before he was bound by it, controlled, owned. Was he ever free?
Sigurd pauses and looks around the campus. I wonder if he genuinely likes the way people adore him, hang on his every word. His grin is sharp as firelight dances in his eyes.
The torches blaze higher, drums resume their beat, and the cheers rise again.
“Let the Wild Hunt begin!”
Chapter Seventy-Four
Rey
“Respectfully.” Ziva clears her throat, then points up at my father while we all find a circular table to sit at near one of the bonfires. “And I mean respectfullyyyyyy.” She draws out the word. “Daddy Odin is hot.”
“Nope!” I hold up my hands while Reeve makes a gagging noise and Rowen chokes on a laugh. Aric puts a hand on my thigh and squeezes, holding me in place. He knows me too well. I want to run in circles and then tell her all the reasons she shouldn’t think that.
“What?” Ziva shrugs. “I’m just saying, the guy has this aura, and he has really intense eyes like he’s seen things, controlled things—how does he feel about younger women?”
“How do you feel about death?” Reeve asks cheerfully. “Because he’s more likely the type to kidnap you and leave you on the side of the road for sport.”
“I can handle myself.” Ziva grins.
And just like I’ve conjured up the devil himself, my father comes walking toward us. It was different when he was texting me, when he was out of sight, out of mind. Now, it’s harrowing.
I don’t feel so brave anymore.
I feel less than clever.
I’m small.
I’m just a girl wishing her dad said he was proud, a girl trying to prove herself to a man who will never approve of her or love her. A man who hurts her instead.
I keep my eyes focused on him, my posture straight.
Don’t break. Please, Gods, don’t break. Not now.
I can do this.
“Ahh.” He suddenly smiles and looks over my head. “There she is.”
Laufey is approaching us, her hands hidden beneath black bandages. Her jet-black hair runs in smooth braids down her back, her beautiful brown skin shimmering in the moonlight.
Her eyes meet mine. “Rey.”
I get up and walk over, pulling her in for a quick hug and even quicker kiss on each cheek. When I face my father, I do the same, and I feel like puking.
“Are you enjoying your evening?” He’s not just asking me.
“Yes, sir.” Reeve salutes him. “My favorite part was when Sigurd released the ravens. What about you?”
Father’s eye twitches. “Had he done it right, I might have been impressed.”
Reeve grins. “It looked right to me, but memory’s kind of fuzzy when it comes to ancient texts. Not much of a reader, anyway, plus Odin was way too emotionally attached to those birds.”