Valkyrie's Sacrifice (Academy of Immortals 3)
“You want me to sleep with him?”
She shrugs. “If you have to, although I’m not sure that’s necessary. The bonds are more than about sex, although that can be when it’s most powerful. You’re tied to these men. Capitalize on that connection—on your ability. Test it. Push it.”
Like the Immortals' strengths and abilities boosted when they came to the Academy. Agis’ ability to read if people were telling the truth—and his wings appeared. Armin’s power of removing obstacles, physical or mental. Rupert’s telekinesis. They’d all grown when they entered the Academy. If my power was truly to balance the Immortals, then I should be able to use that to help Marshal heal.
Except…
“I’m not sure I trust him, Morgan. He’s been cruel and hateful. Deceitful and disloyal.” Or, I wonder to myself, was that just a ruse to keep Roland and Victorine on his side, to gather intelligence and protect us? He’d certainly intervened on my behalf more than once while they were torturing me at the Academy.
“Friend, you have to have faith in the process. You either believe in this or you don’t.” She gasps and touches her belly. Fear ripples through me.
“Morgan!”
“It’s okay. It’s just the baby kicking. Alive and ready to enter this world, but before she can come, the world needs to be safe.” She squeezes my arm. “Trust your instincts, let the power in you lead your decisions. It’s how you’ll win this war.”
Instincts… “Agis confessed to me that he’d already bonded to me long ago—before we even came here. He called me his mate.”
Her eyes brighten. “And?”
“I kicked him out.”
“Oh, Hildi, why?” She appears crushed. “Why would you turn him away? It’s a sign that things are coming together.”
“Because he lied to me—and hid himself—his face—and his feelings. He fought against me publicly, making me feel foolish and off center.” I lower my voice, though no one is around. “He came to me at night, like a flicker of a dream, and we…”
She leans forward. “You what?”
“Had earth-shattering, soul-restoring, sex.”
Her eyebrow shoots up. “And this is bad because...?”
“I don’t know. I’m just confused. I’m not accustomed to juggling the emotions and minds and bodies of five damaged, immortal warriors.”
She laughs. “That I understand. It’s not easy, and despite their incredible strength, you have to be stronger. Underneath the muscles and brawn and power are men—boys—that need nurturing and stability. You’re the one that will get them through this, to help them win, as a group. Together.”
“But—” I start, wanting to say I’m not sure I’m ready, that I don’t totally trust Marshal, and how I’m completely confused. I want to tell her I’m scared, but her image shivers, flickering into nothing. I close my eyes and when I open them, I’m standing in the bathroom staring at my reflection in the mirror. A dream, I tell myself. It was just a dream.
Except, in my hands are the book and pouch.
I sigh and look at my reflection in the mirror. My white-blond hair is a tangled mess. Dark shadows brim my blue eyes. Roland and Victoria tried their best to beat me down—to break me. They aren’t the first, or the strongest that have tried to do it. So far, no one has managed to succeed. I’m a Valkyrie. A warrior. I clutch the gifts from Morgan in my hands. I’m armed with knowledge, protection, and power from the gods.
It’s time to push past my anger and fear and go fulfil my destiny.
I ask the caretaker to start a bath, scalding hot, to burn the last few weeks off my skin. I wash my hair and scrub over the lingering scars from the wicked, fuzzy monsters Victorine created to lure me into her game.
In the past, having scars like this would have bothered me. I?
?m vain enough to want flawless, immortal skin. I’d reveled in the strength of my muscles, the power that coursed through my body. I’d been a virgin under Odin’s thumb—a requirement of the Valkyrie. I shed that along with my allegiance, falling for a mortal woman who saved my heart and soul. Who revealed other uses for my body—other powers—at least, until she was taken from me in another, different battle between the realms.
It’s like Odin knew that to allow us to explore our sexuality would grant us autonomy, a deeper understanding of ourselves. The Legion tugged on those already fraying threads, pulling at my deep-seated desires. It started as a way to blow off steam—to feel something other than grief, but slowly that changed. I like the Immortals, maybe even more. The confusing part is how much of it is real and how much of it is just the gods’ interference? One reason all of this is so scary is that what the Immortals make me feel is more than just game play. Agis confirmed that when he revealed the truth to me. In this game or out of it, he and I are bonded.
Mates, he’d said.
Mates.
The Immortals made me realize that scars make you real. They tell a story of battles won and lost. Some scars are visible, some aren’t.
The water cools, and I exit the tub, dry off, and walk over to the small adjoining dressing area. To my surprise, I see that clothing has been laid out for me. A pair of black fighting leathers, along with a matching vest that ties up the front. Soft boots sit on the floor. The blade forged by Damien rests on a sheath, the jeweled hilt glinting in the pale light of the room. Holding the towel at my chest, I look around, wondering who set these out. Whoever did also knows that the time has come to leave this safe haven and return to the fight.