Page 73 of Goddess of Light

“Let’s go,” I command.

Signals are made to the garrisons to the left and right of us, and we start to enter the forest.

We slip into the Hiisi Forest, spaced out in several single-file lines, the towering silhouettes of ancient cedars and ironwood lit by moonlight. Snow crunches underfoot, the cold having seeped into the woods, and we move slowly, cautiously, as if expecting the trees themselves to lunge at us. No one speaks; our breaths are clouds in the chilled air. Even Tuoni, usually so confident, holds his silence, scanning the darkness with wary eyes.

I stay close to his side, aware of the soldiers branching out behind us, while Tapio leads the way at the front. He’s quiet, his attention fixed on the subtle language of leaves and roots. Every so often, his head tilts, as if listening to a whisper we can’t hear. Tuoni’s tension eases minutely whenever Tapio gives the slightest nod. That means the forest approves of our passage, or at least tolerates it. We’re guests here, not enemies. Not tonight.

After an hour of winding down narrow deer paths and ducking beneath low branches, I feel my pulse calm. No ambush springs from the gloom. No Old Gods surge from beneath the snow. There’s only the murmuring hush of a winter forest. The tension thins, though no one relaxes completely. We all know danger can strike at any moment.

At one point, I lag behind Tuoni by a few steps, my boots treading carefully on a patch of ice. They’re a couple of sizes too big, taken off the feet of a dead soldier, which I try not to dwell on. The moonlight slants between trunks, illuminating patches of moss and lichen. My fingers start to itch as I feel the powerinside me, that dormant solar gift kindling deep down. Could I try it again? Just a little spark, a test? If I can control it here, in the quiet, maybe I’ll trust myself more when the time comes to fight. Maybe I can be useful in the end.

I close my eyes briefly, imagining a delicate thread of light flowing from my core to my fingertips.

Just a spark, I tell myself, breathing slowly. My hand warms, and I open my eyes. A faint glow hovers above my palm, no brighter than a candle’s ember. It flickers nervously, like a timid animal ready to flee. Fear nips at my heart—what if it flares out of control? But it doesn’t. It stays small, obedient. When a soldier glances my way, I quickly close my fist, smothering the glow. Good. I can manage something tiny without losing my head and turning into Doctor Manhattan again. It’s a start.

We press deeper into the forest. The trees thicken, their tangled tops blocking out the moon. My father walks at the flank, his black staff tapping gently against roots, as if in conversation. He’s placing wards, I realize, small, protective spells that settle around us like invisible blankets. I sense them more than see them—strands of energy that hum in harmony with the hush of the woods. I wish I could speak to him about it, compliment his craftsmanship, tell him how proud I am of him, but I feel the need to stay quiet. Still, he glances my way, and I give him a smile that hopefully says a lot.

At last, Tapio halts before a clearing lit by a strange moss that glows faintly green. Snow drapes over a cluster of old stones in a half-circle, like a forgotten altar. The Forest God touches a trunk, listens, and then turns to us. “This place was once a grove of power,” he murmurs. “My wards from long ago linger. Torben can reinforce them. We’ll be safe here.”

Tuoni exhales and gives a curt nod. Immediately, the soldiers set to work, murmuring quietly as they clear a space for tents and bedrolls, extending beyond the clearing and into the rest ofthe forest, making room for everyone. I can feel the collective relief—no traps, no monsters, no sudden screams, just a night’s rest in the heart of a forest. I never really did trust this place, considering what I’ve been through before (hello, giant spider that almost ate me) but tonight, I feel a sense of calm—though perhaps it’s the calm before the storm.

As we settle, my father kneels to anchor the wards by sprinkling ash and salt on the ground around me and Tuoni while Tapio hums softly, coaxing the trees to watch over us. The other garrison has joined us now, and the Magician stands at the edge of the clearing, galaxies swirling beneath his hood, a silent sentinel. Lovia checks on the troops, shoulders squared against lingering doubt, while Rasmus offers to help gather firewood.

I can’t help but watch Rasmus as he goes. He catches my eye for a moment, and in his gaze, I see both shame and fear. Good. Let that asshole fear me; it’s the least I deserve. Seeing him alongside my father—ourfather—as well as Death and Lovia, was a hard thing to understand. Frankly, I still don’t get it. He was a traitor in so many ways, and I don’t care what they all say. He isneverto be trusted.

Part of me wants to follow Rasmus into the woods to make sure he’s not going to alert Louhi’s gang or something, but then I see the Magician trailing behind him, and I know he’s on the case. I suppose he’s the only one who truly knows what Rasmus is going to do.

I take a seat on a fallen log beside Tuoni. He doesn’t say much, just reaches for my hand. I squeeze it back, and we watch the moss-glow shimmer in the darkness.

“This is the first time we’ve been camping,” I whisper to him. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes roughing it.”

“I only like roughing it in bed,” he says with a smirk before he kisses my cheek. Then, he takes a look around; satisfied no oneis looking, he places my palm on his crotch, his cock hard against his fly.

I roll my eyes. I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Care to take a walk with me?” he whispers.

I should say no. I’m tired, we’re surrounded by soldiers, and our enemy could strike at any minute. But I also know this is one way to keep my humanity humming.

Besides, all the adrenaline is making me hard up for it.

I nod slyly and get to my feet. He pulls me into the forest, though we have to walk quite aways before we’re away from prying eyes.

The trees swallow us in their embrace, the shadows thickening as we venture further from the camp. Tuoni’s hand is warm in mine, his touch grounding me amidst the uncertainties lurking beyond the trees. A sense of freedom washes over me as we walk, a brief respite from the weight of our mission and the dilemma clawing at my insides.

We find a small clearing illuminated by a cluster of fireflies dancing in the night air. The ethereal glow flickers around us, casting a soft light on Tuoni’s face, highlighting the lines of worry etched there. I reach up to trace his jawline, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips.

“This is terribly romantic,” I tell him. “Did you plan this?”

“Just divine luck,” he says before he grabs my face and kisses me deeply.

I melt into his embrace, the tension of the war melting away as our lips move in synchronicity. Tuoni’s touch ignites a fire within me, a primal need that eclipses any danger that might lurk just beyond the trees.

The urgency of our kiss propels us backward until my back meets the rough bark of a towering pine. His hands roam over my body, and even with his gloves on, his touch sets my skin ablaze with desire, the scent of pine and soil filling my senses.

With a swift movement, Tuoni lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he presses me against the sturdy trunk. The rough texture of the bark scratches against my skin, a delicious contrast to the silkiness of his touch.

Want and need course through me like wildfire, primal and insatiable. Our breath mingles in the cool night air, fogging between us as my husband explores every inch of my exposed skin, igniting trails of heat in his wake. His lips trail down my neck, leaving a searing path of kisses that send shivers down my spine.