“To what do we owe the honor of your presence, Myra?” I asked as I offered her a seat at the small table in the kitchen area of our home.
“A matter of some importance. But it will be better if we wait to discuss my news until your husband joins us. I’m too old to waste time repeating myself.”
I smiled. She reminded me of Hilda. While it was a warm memory, it also uncovered the empty place in my heart where the oracle had once resided.
“You look well,” Myra said.
“And you are being kind. I resemble a dog who has been kicked one too many times and left out in the gutter to die.”
“You seem stronger.”
“As would the abused dog, I’m sure. Freya, the leader of the shieldmaidens, is training me in the ways of warfare. She has no mercy. Which I know is a good thing. It may save my life one d
