Hela drained the last of the liquor from her glass. Gods could get drunk too, but she, in particular, had never reached that point.
It was said that the Norse had a natural tolerance for mead, just as the Greeks did for wine. It was almost a perfect match.
"Garm, I don't want to be interrupted today. I need to talk to Ina... Only call me if it's necessary."
She glanced at the sleepy dog on the office sofa; he simply looked back at his mistress and stayed quiet.
He understood. Stay right where you are.
Hela returned silently to the bedroom. She was tired—mentally exhausted.
There was so much to do and so much to think about.
She carefully opened the door and found Ina lying on the bed. The room was pitch black; the only light came from the moon, filtering softly between the curtains.
She took a few steps, closed the door behind her, and sat down on the bed.
She watched Ina sleep.
