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that helping her was necessary to winning his immortality. This woman was alone with no one to guard her, and her lands had been taken. If he conquered her enemies, surely that would be enough to lift whatever curse had brought him here. He could prove that he was a warrior of strength and bravery, one who deserved to be with the gods.
    “I want you to leave,” she said. “There is no need for a wager.”
    He made her nervous—he could see it in her eyes. But the wager was merely an excuse to remain at her side. “I cannot leave until I learn why I was brought to you. My afterlife depends on it.”
    He was convinced that he was trapped between worlds, between the immortality he wanted and the mortal world of a thousand years later. Somehow he had been found unworthy to enter Asgard to celebrate with the gods in Valhalla. And whether it was Odin watching over him or whether this was a trick of Loki, he was certain that he was meant to aid this woman.
    Disbelief clouded her eyes. Before she could voice another protest, he added, “You cannot force me to leave. But I am willing to put my trust in the gods. If you win the wager, then I will leave and not trouble you again. If the gods grant me the victory, then you will allow me to fight on your behalf.”
    Juliana didn’t look pleased about the wager, but she seemed to consider it. “If I win, do you promise to go?”
    “I will.” He had no qualms about the vow, for he had no doubt he would win. “But after I win, I will stay with you through the phases of this moon,” he said. “And I will get back the land that was stolen from you and your son. Be assured of it.”
    She shook her head. “You cannot kill Marcus.”
    He made no reply to that. “Tell your son of the wager, and I will prepare the boat.”

    The sea was calm, and Mr. Thorgrim helped Harry and her to climb aboard his ship. Her son chattered without ceasing, as he peppered the man with questions about sailing and fishing. Juliana did her best to translate, and was glad to see that not once did Thorgrim seem impatient about answering the child.
    As they traveled farther out to sea, she helped him adjust the sails, until the ship picked up speed. The look of excitement on Harry’s face made her wish she’d taken him out sooner. The wind whipped at his dark hair, and his eyes drank in the sight of the land skimming past.
    When at last Thorgrim gathered up the nets, he showed Harry how to cast them out. He guided the boy’s hands, and at the sight of them together, a sense of regret pulled at her heart. Harry had never known a father. He’d never had a man to show him anything at all, and even his grandfather had died before he was old enough to know him. But Arik Thorgrim had slid into the role seamlessly.
    For a man who believed he was over a thousand years old, he didn’t behave like a madman. And when he pulled in his net, filled with fish, the challenging look on his face dared her to beat him.
    She couldn’t believe her own net was empty while his was full. They were on opposite sides of the same boat. It wasn’t as if she’d never cast nets out before—her father had taught her to fish, when she was a young girl. She knew how to do this.
    It was almost as if the ocean were conspiring against her. She tried. Oh, how she tried, racking her brain for every ounce of knowledge her father had imparted. But even the one fish she pulled in from her net was hardly large enough to keep. The smirk on Mr. Thorgrim’s face made her all the more determined to catch more, but every time she cast it out, there was nothing.
    “It’s not over yet,” she warned.
    “I’ve caught thirty-two fish.” He set the net down at his feet and rested his hands on his knees. “Do you want me to continue, so that you will have more to store for the rest of the winter?”
    The thought of cleaning all the fish made her wince. She didn’t want to admit defeat, but there seemed to be no other choice. Then, too, she