shoulders. “I don't know where Freya is. I've told you this.” I lift my chin, knowing that’s not a lie. “I don't know how you think threatening me is going to make me suddenly come up with something I don't know.”
A deep rumble, low and menacing, sounds in his throat. “I have it on good authority that you know where she is.”
I cross my arms and tilt my head to the side. “And who tells you I know?”
His eyebrows push into a vee as annoyance washes over his face. “I have it on good authority from Loki. He tells me that you know. He sent me a message through Ratatoskr.”
“Then he's misinformed.”
Surt shakes his head. “I believe him, not you.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Do you know Loki personally? If you do, you should know that he's mischievous. Don't you think he could be misleading you to distract you from something? Please tell me that you have at least considered this. You cannot trust what he says!”
Surt nods his head, expressing a noise of agreement. “I know he’s a weasel, but on this, I'm inclined to believe him.” He lifts me to eye level. “I don’t trust what comes out of your mouth.”
“Do you think I’m going to change my story because you’re threatening me?” I flail my arms out to the sides. “Why don’t you capture and question him like you're questioning me? See what he tells you then.”
A strange emotion flickers across his features then is washed away by anger. “Tell me or else.”
“Or else what? Are you not listening to me?”
His hand shifts around me, and somehow those massive fingers clasp onto my quiver still attached to my back. He shakes me lightly, my dangling legs and arms whipping in different directions. I drop my gaze downward, thinking maybe I can abandon my quiver and drop to the ground. The idea is quickly shoved away when I see the distance to the ground. As much as I’ve wished for it all my life, I can’t fly. Before I know it, I’m dangling over an open lava pit. Surt has reclined his head and raised me, dangling me over his horrid mouth.
Shivers rock my body as I gaze down into the fiery pit. Knowing it’s a mouth seems to make it a lot worse than just a bubbling pool of molten rock.
His hand pauses, the heat from his mouth warming my boots to the point that my feet feel like they’re on fire. I retract my legs, pulling my knees to my chest, and hug my arms around them. Nothing I do is going to save me.
My weight pulling against the quiver forces the straps to dig into my underarms and shoulders. Large beads of sweat form on my arms and forehead, but I’m too scared to move to wipe them away. With one wrong move, I would be Surt’s meal, for sure.
The muscles in my arms, abdomen, and legs ache from the pressure of holding them curled against my body. I don't know how long I’ve been dangling here—probably only a few minutes— yet hours seem to have ticked away. Every little movement of the fire giant's hand sends bolts of fear straight into my stomach. If his fingers open or I slip, I will cannonball right into that lava pit.
Eventually, he moves me away, holding me out to look at me again. “Now… are you going to tell me where she is?”
Releasing my legs, I let them dangle awkwardly below, the straps from my quiver cutting into my underarms and causing them to go numb from the lack of circulation. I stare Surt straight in his burning eyes. Maintaining a steely expression is hard, with fear raising the bile in my throat. “As I said, I don't know where she is.”
“But you do know how to call her.”
I huff. “I don't know where you get this information from. Sure, I admit, she came once before when I called her. I was lucky. Somehow, I managed to do it, and she came to us during a battle to help save Asgard. I haven’t found anything to use to call her since then, and if I did, she probably wouldn’t come.”
“Why would you say that?”
“She’s a goddess!” I exclaim. “She probably won’t remember who I am, and if she did, I doubt she would be listening for my call. I've had contact with her for only a couple of hours in the past, and she helped only because she had a