woman. For the woman she might have been if Adam had not taken her. Was this what they would all be, once Adam had the fruit? When he had the power he thought would come by eating it?
“It’s too late, Reu.” She could feel the ripple of Adam’s pleasure from across the Garden, crawling up her spine. “He knows she’s found it.”
“You’re certain?”
She nodded and turned away. If presenting Adam with the fruit would spare Lilith another beating, another night of pain, so be it. There was no stopping the rest. Even if they took it from her and sent her back without anything to show, he would still find it now. Lilith would lead him back here. She would tell him they had stopped her, and he would punish them. Reu and Lamech would be made to suffer, or cast out.
Yes, she was certain.
Reu was watching her, searching her face. “What will you do?”
Eve stepped toward the tree, and the low branch from which the serpent had hung. One of the fruits, hidden in the red leaves, winked with a flash of sunlight. A faint tingle traveled down her arm as her hand closed around it and the fruit came free. The branch swayed, relieved of its burden, weeping the broad scarlet leaves in a shower around her.
The fruit was heavy in her hand. Much heavier than an apple would have been. She wondered briefly about the angels. Who they were, and what they would do to her when they realized she had broken God’s law. Sin, the creature had called it. But was it, really? Or was it wisdom, for the greater good, like the story Reu had told her about the one-eyed man in the sky?
She raised the fruit to her lips.
Chapter Eighteen: 650 BC
In the North, the ocean currents shifted and beneath the surface, magma channels altered course. A frozen fist closed around their people, and even Sif forgot her anger for a time, as the gods worked to save the lives of those who looked to them. It had come upon them without warning, as though the Aesir were bedeviled by a higher power. Thor did not like to dwell on the possibility that this might be a punishment sent by the True God, Eve’s Elohim, nor did he so much as breathe the suggestion to Odin. If it was the True God, the fault was his for meddling with Elohim’s daughter, and Thor did not dare speak of Eve to Sif. There was no room for strife in Asgard, not while their people starved. There was no room for anything but what might be done to save them.
Freyr ensured what crops remained gave a bountiful harvest, but the vines could not survive the cold for long. The summers had been easier, but no matter how well Freyr tended the crops, or how much rain and sun Thor gave the fields, there wasn’t enough to see the people through the lengthening months of barren cold with so little hunting to supplement their meals. Fighting against snowdrifts taller than a man made game hard to find, and as the winters lengthened, more plants began to fail.
Sif spent her days in the storehouses, blessing meager harvests of wheat to protect them from spoil, and Freyja spent long days and nights, shepherding the dead to their final rest. Men so weak they died hunting in the snow, desperate to find game for their wives and children, starving at home. Frigg consulted the runes and her visions of fate, but she saw no end in sight.
On Odin’s order, Thor left for Egypt to beg for grain. But the North lands did not suffer alone.
“War,” Ra told him, his ancient face looking older still. “Eve’s brother is King of the Universe in Assyria, and he is determined to crush us beneath his heel. Bakare did well for a time, but Thebes is sacked now. I fear the dynasty will not recover.”
“Surely the Assyrians cannot mean to displace you?”
Ra stood with him by the window, looking out over the city. Egypt reflected its god, Thor thought. Worn and tired, but still living. Still strong in the ways that mattered.
“It is not the will of Ashur, no,” Ra agreed. “But Assurbanipal—Adam—he has no respect for man or god, and Ashur is unwilling to act against him for fear he will leave. In truth, I do not blame him. As long as Adam makes the proper offerings, Ashur’s power grows. It is a heady thing, to be worshipped by the son of Elohim.”
Thor grunted. Eve may not have known him for a god, but the love she had given him had been as powerful as any sacrifice. Truly, even more so. When they had made love, her power had spilled over the whole village, leaving peace in its wake. He could only imagine what Adam’s worship might bring.
“Did you find her family?” Ra asked. “You could not have come so far to speak of Adam’s foolishness.”
“I fear I did not come to speak of Eve, either,” Thor admitted. “My father sent me in the hope that you might have grain to spare, but I could not ask it of you now, even in trade.”
“Nonsense,” Ra said, the lines of his face growing deeper. “You would not come if the need were not desperate. It is for your people?”
Thor nodded stiffly. “The climate has shifted and our people starve. Half the crops have failed, already. We have done what we can, of course, and begun moving our people south, but it has been a hard adjustment, and the southern and coastal villages cannot feed so many on their own stores.”
“Of course,” Ra said, staring out the window again. “When Elohim stirs, the world awakes. But He has slept for so long, I did not think even to warn you.”
“Then it is His way?”
Ra shook his head. “It happens rarely. As I said, He was greatly weakened by Creation. Before the Covenant, it was much more common. He feared for the world, you see. As long as we are at peace with one another, it is nothing to Him if we remain. But He could not rest, knowing we might tear the earth apart. Was there some sign of unrest among the Aesir?”
“No,” Thor said, thinking guiltily of Eve. “None among us would violate the Covenant. Odin would not stand for it.”
“But there is something else?” Ra asked, no longer studying his city, his Egypt. Thor felt his gaze, sharp and searching, and he dared not lie. Not to Ra, who had treated him always as an honored friend. And at least if he spoke with Ra about his fears, it would not return to Sif.
“I married her,” he said. “I had not meant to do it—only to know her better. But she is without equal. And when she began to love me! She is made for it, Ra. Made to love so perfectly that I wonder at the True God’s power. She has no idea of her perfection. Not truly. No understanding of her true godhead. And after Sif’s betrayal…” His jaw tightened until his teeth ached. “It is my fault, what has happened in the North.”
“Enough,” Ra said gently. “She has suffered through more marriages of pain and abuse that I cannot imagine Elohim would stir himself against your love. But it is dangerous, Thor. She does not belong to us. A goddess she may be, but this road you walk will only bring heartbreak to both of you. You would be better served seeking comfort in Athena’s embrace.”
“Athena?” Thor snorted. “What has she to do with any of it?”
Ra flicked his fingers, dismissing the suggestion. “I mean only to say there is no future to be had with her. Will you find her in every life? Court her every century, as if it were the first? Be husband, father, brother, and child to her as she grows from babe to child to woman to decrepit hag once more?”
“Perhaps for a century or two, you would have peace with her,” Ra went on, as if knowing his thoughts. “But she is not made to love you, Thor. She is made to love mortal men, who will age and grow as she does, die as she does. Would you interfere, thwart the will of her Father? Teach her the love of a god so that she would be spoiled by it, ruined for any mortal who might come after?”
“My ability to love is far from perfect,” Thor said, unable to stop himself from arguing like a sullen boy. “My inconstancy has already been proven. I am twice damned by my wife. Would loving Eve so imperfectly be a
