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Chapter 31: Skál
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Chapter 33: The Old Gods Whisper Still
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... she felt was regret.
Then heat. Then her tongue, dry and stuck to the roof of her mouth like parchment. Her skull throbbed like it was being used for target practice by the Einherjar.
She groaned and rolled over — straight into empty fur.
The warmth beside her was gone, save for the lingering scent of sweat and pine.
Firelight flickered low. The hearth was dying.
She sat up slowly, head pounding.
Mead, she realized. Not wine.
God’s blood, ...
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