"Heimdall doesn't know where Modi is. Riggs said the rain's still falling on Asgard. Father's gone to every realm looking for allies to our cause, but nothing's happening. Modi's biding his time somewhere...gathering strength. Gathering resources. We can't do anything until he shows himself again." I squeezed Hela's hand again for what felt like the hundredth time in a week. "Unless you wake up and tell us where he might strike first. That's all I ask. A clue. A sign. Anything."

Silence. Cold silence. An empty room, her empty head, and an empty chance that she'd hear my pleas. Sure, she'd gained a bit more color over the past few days, though that could mean nothing. Nanny said hope wasn't dead until Hela's heart stopped beating, but what difference would it make if all she knew was locked away?

"I don't know what to do anymore, Hela. I'm lost. Father thinks I'm weak for holding on to everything that happened. Mum's run out of ways to comfort me. I've shut Riggs out because I'm too afraid to admit how unworthy I am. I'm just...complete shit." I released her to bury my face in both hands with my elbows on the mattress. Weeping was my last resort, and I'd done too much of it lately.

Father approached from the hallway and noisily leaned against the door frame. "Still quiet?"

"Aye. Nothing. I'm starting to wonder if what we saw on Narvlheim was a hallucination." I wiped my face and raked through my hair, one hand after the other. Scratching my scape was oddly grounding. "Why did Uncle Freyr and Nanny say she was getting better when she's so stagnant?"

"I'm not certain, but I trust them. If they sense a change in energy, we should believe it." Father tapped my shoulder. "It's so late. I'll finish the watch tonight."

"I don't mind staying." I looked up at him. "Shouldn't you stay with Mum?"

He arched his brows. "This is for Hela's benefit, too. She doesn't need more worry pouring into her. You have enough for all of us."

My heart sank. Can't even do this nothing task. Shit is right. I couldn't refute him, so we traded places despite my reluctance. Father relaxed in the rocking chair and closed his eyes with his hand on Hela's, likely to fall asleep where he was.

I lumbered down the hallway toward my guest room at the end, careful to be quiet with my steps as the house was already sleeping. Riggs returned from a patrol on Asgard earlier in the day, though we hadn't crossed paths—not that we tried. Whether by her will or mine, we avoided one another. Mum probed me more than once for an update between us, but I had nothing to say. Heimdall barely looked me in the eye, and he'd lost the sense of tease that flowed between us before Modi's takeover. Graciously, he kept his knowledge of what went sour to himself.

Once I reached the guest room, I clicked the door closed and stripped off my tunic, trying to find relief in the stagnant air. Night on Dagheim managed to stay oppressively hot, and I'd never be fully used to it.

I crawled into bed and left the covers off, hoping for a breeze from the open window. I tried to manipulate my dreams by recalling sweet memories and willing them to continue; lately, it had backfired, resulting in images that combined something pleasant with horror and carnage for the people I loved. More than once, I shot up in bed with a pounding heart and pinched my legs to remind myself that I was whole. Nightmares were for children; this was terror all too possible simply because the blood in my mind wasn't solely my imagination.

Sleep was a luxury I longed to enjoy again. The first step was to close my eyes. Reluctantly, I did so, all the while praying my psyche wouldn't betray me with anything unpleasant. I'd been punished enough.

We are safe on Dagheim.

Weight of mind serves no purpose.

For better or worse, exhaustion rapidly took over. The warmth all around blanketed me in peace. I sucked in a deep breath and focused on relaxing my muscles on exhale, unclenching my jaw and stretching my toes. Again. Then again. After four cycles, I sank into the mattress, comfortable and ready to slumber.

A sudden breath of flowers crossed my nose, beckoning goosebumps all over me—a treat of sugar over sour. It was beyond relief to think of something far away from burdens and threats.

Yes... Riggs on my mind was pure pleasure.

Even with my eyes closed, I looked for her. The darkness behind my closed eyes didn't last, and I found myself in a throng of dancers, peering above the many inconsequential faces until I found the one that triumphed over all. Only her beauty. Only her smile. No one else could draw my gaze. The vision was a game of where is she, but one I wanted to play.

I squeezed myself amongst the moving bodies, bumping into people on all sides, but they didn't seem to care. My cape—fully to the floor again, as if I hadn't shredded it on Asgard—wasn't the obstacle it might've been in real life. I felt protected once again in body and spirit by the armor I'd learned to rely on. The only disadvantage to the metal was how hard it would be to feel her pressing against me, yet in my dreams, that didn't matter anyway.

At last, there she was—laughing next to Astrid—joyfully relaxed to the point that I was jealous of her carefree attitude. It was fortunately contagious. Even my rapid pulse was pleasant, not distracting or nauseating as it would be in real life. Now, I let it buzz through me.

"Lokison?" she asked, tipping her head curiously.

"Will you dance with me, Riggs?" I offered her my hand.

She didn't take it as I expected. "What?"

I dragged the back of my hand across her cheek. My words weren't poetic or sensual, but they were all I could offer without more control. "It's been too long since I last showed you my skills. I need to try again."

"Lokison," she said again, more sternly this time. "Are you awake?"

I didn't pay attention to her expression and was lost in the gold of her eyes. "No," I chuckled. "You're too far away."

"Wake up." Riggs shook my shoulders. "Vali, wake up."

I gasped and the world darkened, instantly transforming to a bedroom in the middle of the night once more. I wasn't standing, but sitting on a soft mattress with my feet on the floor. The dark room had few obvious landmarks and my eyes struggled to adjust. It was similar to the guest room I'd been relegated to for weeks, yet something about the layout of the furniture wasn't quite right.

Most alarming was the fact that I wasn't alone. "Are you awake now?" Riggs asked, shaking my left shoulder again. She sat up in bed from a prone position under a plush blanket.

"Riggs?" I asked, not sure if I was still dreaming or where she'd come from. "I...h-how—"

"You wandered in a few minutes ago and woke me from a dead sleep. Frightened me." She retracted her hand quickly. "Nothing you said made sense."

I came here in my sleep. Shit, how could I let that happen? Was I speaking out loud, too? A flood of hot shame rushed through my gut. "Gods, I am so sorry. I'm...I've been so tired lately, and—"

"Right. Well, if you're awake now, you can go back to your room." She clutched the blanket against her chest and huffed.

My heart didn't slow at all; if anything, it worsened. "I truly meant no harm, especially if I said something inappropriate."

"It was the most you've said to me since coming here," she muttered.

That much had to be true, as sad as it was. "I'm sorry for that, too."

She scoffed, shaking her head with the same incredulity.

The energy between us was far from what it used to be. She was cold—colder than me. My pushing back worked far too well.

"Would you...can I...is it alright if I try to explain?" I looked at her intently and hoped she'd at least try to meet my eyeline.

She folded her arms. "Fine."

I didn't move in case I could convince her I was genuine. "Hela's my family. I'm responsible for her. I've had to stay focused on protecting her, even if that means neglecting others."

Riggs said nothing, though her face twitched in rebuttal.

"Father's kept a close eye on me, too, though I suppose that doesn't mean much." I lowered my voice more, almost embarrassed to tell the truth. "He wanted me to avoid distractions. That's why I didn't respond to your note."

She finally turned to me. "So, you did get it."

I nodded, meekly folding into myself a bit. "I can't tell you how badly I've wanted to say something. War kept me away, like you said."

"And I'd be selfish to want anything different."

"I didn't say that." I reached for her hand but stopped halfway. "Please, don't tell yourself anything of the sort."

"Then why wouldn't you even acknowledge me?" She grimaced, making a face of upset that I'd hoped to never see, especially not because of my own actions. "You used to see me and smile. I needed that. I needed to know that if everything changed, you'd stay the same. I worried for weeks that you might be gravely injured, and we missed the chance to be...whatever we thought we'd be."

"I know. I needed it, too. Needed you." I paused to chew the inside of my lip. "I'm afraid I've already ruined things for everyone I care about. It feels impossible to fix."

"I'm too tired for this now," she said, wiping her face quickly. "Go back to your room. We can discuss this in the morning."

But if I wait another minute, will it drive us more apart? I couldn't reconcile how badly I wanted to escape the horrors of reality with how important it was to keep the mission a priority. I couldn't argue with her in the dark and hope for change, though. Respecting her wishes were my only choice.

"I hope you will, you know, let me explain." I brushed her hand. "Please don't say it's already too late."

She turned toward the wall and pulled the blanket over her head. The gesture wounded me worse than the real knife to my side.

I sighed. "Understood. Forgive me, Riggs." I stood too fast and leaned against the desk to my right, knocking a few trinkets to the floor by accident. In the stillness of the hour, it made a terrible crash that amplified my mistake tenfold.

"Shh, quiet," Riggs sneered, practically hissing at me as she yanked her covers off. "You're going to wake my father."

"Oh, stop. I don't fear your father. Go back to sleep." I tiptoed across the floor to avoid whatever new obstacle I'd just made for myself.

"I'll be lucky if I can," she grumbled behind me. With exasperated, quick movements, she tugged at her pillows and blankets to get comfortable, this time facing out.

Now adjusted to the light, I saw her face clearly and the new line of light from the tear on her cheek.

Even with her attitude, it called to me like a magnet. I must clear it away. The promise I made Heimdall when I was a child replayed in my mind that I'd do her no harm.

How could I have broken it?

As I stared from the doorway, it felt like a new dream. A new chance to start over. No more dancing, no more magic—only us, in the dark, being honest.

I took a stride closer and held my breath. Took another and prayed the floor wouldn't creak. With the third, I dropped to a knee and steadied my position.

My mouth opened to speak, but I was silent. What kind of a plea would matter? If I touched her, would she startle and cry out? I felt like a fool again—ill prepared and unworthy—on the floor of her bedroom in the middle of the night. If someone else found me, there'd be no good excuse. Could I leave her a token? Could I tuck away the single plait of her hair that stood out from the hundreds surrounding her face? Would a note be—

"If you're going to kiss me, Lokison, you'd better do it before I change my mind."

I didn't need to be told twice. Shoving my fears and the unknown aside, I wrapped my hand behind her ear and pulled her into me.