by S. T. Bende
“I don’t know,” Idris said, “but I take your word for it. So that’s two dark realms down. That leaves us with Svartalfheim and Muspelheim.”
I shuddered. “Gods, I hope it’s not Svartalfheim.”
“Why? We’re more familiar with them, and I’d rather the helbeast we know than the helbeast we don’t.”
“I guess. I just . . .” A burst of recognition shot across my brain. “Maja. You said the specter’s energy was like Dragen’s, right?”
“The level of darkness was a match, yes. Why?”
“What if it’s someone he knows?” I whispered. “Or someone he’s worked with? The Huldra, maybe, or—”
“We sent the Huldra to Helheim too,” Viggo reminded me. He quickly brought Idris up to speed on everything we’d gone through almost two years ago.
“It’s not the Huldra, but I see what you’re driving at, Aura.” We strolled into the lavender garden. Maja paused in the middle of it, and placed her hand on her hips. “Someone whose ultimate goals aligned with Dragen’s would have a similar energetic resonance. You say he wanted you dead, right?”
“Yup.” I carefully stepped over a patch of blooms.
“Well, who else in Svartalfheim wanted you dead?” Maja followed me through the garden. “Any other uncles or cousins who wanted your senate seat?”
“Nope. My cousin Ondyr lives with us on Alfheim now—he just wanted out. And Dragen was the only one who wanted me dead. The rest of the family wanted me to relocate to Svartalfheim and go into the family business.” I shuddered.
“Hmm.” Maja stared at the sky as she walked. “Well. It’ll come when I least expect it. It always does.”
“So, what do we do now?” I asked.
“I don’t know that there’s much that we can do.” Idris sighed. “Your friends are coming tomorrow to help us with the crystal matching—hopefully that’ll keep the specter from coercing anyone else to do his bidding. Or at least, it’ll keep him from being admitted to the castle against our wills.”
“True,” I said. “And you might want to get ahead of this. Issue a statement disclosing the recent security breach—without disclosing who compromised the crown, of course. And let everyone know you’re doing everything in your power to keep them safe from all threats. If they know you’re watching, hopefully they’ll close ranks if the specter approaches any of them.”
“Good idea.” Idris nodded. “I’ll draft that immediately, and send it out tonight. Are the three of you still planning to leave tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Unless you need us to stick around, we have to get back to school.” I stuck out my tongue, and Idris laughed.
“I don’t miss that schedule,” she said. “Though things were a lot easier when my only responsibilities were studying for tests and writing the occasional paper.”
“Clearly, you never endured Professor Bergen’s Verge workouts.” Viggo groaned.
“No. But I did get to take a few fencing classes. I went undefeated, since nobody wanted to get in trouble for hurting the princess.” Idris’ easy grin was contagious.
As we made our way back to the castle, and changed into our formal dinner attire, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after we left Vanaheim. With Finna and Jande on their way, and a new security system about to be in place, we’d taken steps to ensure Vanaheim’s royal residence was at least a little safer. But the specter was still out there somewhere. And while we still didn’t know who—or what—he was, something told me we were going to find out.
Chapter 9
WE CAUGHT THE BIFROST back to Alfheim on Sunday afternoon. We stuck around long enough to get Jande and Finna settled into our former suite. The staff had changed it over while we’d been at lunch, turning Maja’s room into a science lab complete with a vast crystal display—on loan from the royal collection, apparently—and making Viggo’s and my rooms over for Jande and Finna. Jande looked like a kid in a candy shop when he caught sight of the window wall and massive sleigh bed where he’d be crashing. Meanwhile, Finna ignored her room completely—she went straight into the makeshift lab, and didn’t come out until I poked my head in to tell her we were leaving.
“Be safe,” she said as she enveloped me in a hug. “There was an issue at the capital on Friday—someone defaced one of the statues near the main building, and a fight broke out near the senators’ residences.”
“Were the two incidents related?” Viggo asked.
“I’m not sure.” Finna rubbed her pink crystal necklace. “But it’s been a while since we’ve had any problems like that, so just be on the lookout, okay?”
“Will do.” Viggo raised a hand at Jande, who was now gawking at the living area. “You going to let Finna do all the work here?”
“Obviously I’m going to help.” Jande strolled into the kitchen. “Right after I make us some—ooh, is this unicorn tea? I’ve never seen it! It’s tea, mixed with real unicorn dust—the powder their manes emit when they’re transitioning from foals to adolescents.”
“Like dandruff?” Maja wrinkled her nose. “I’ll pass.”
“It has magical properties.” Jande crossed his arms. “You’re telling me you don’t want to imbibe the rarest of all mystical elements in pursuit of inner peace, higher learning, and awareness of one’s true calling?”
Maja shrugged. “I don’t need a tea for that.”
“Well aren’t you special.” Jande arched his brow.
“She is, isn’t she?” I threw my arms around Jande. “Don’t get into too much trouble while you’re here.”
“I’ll try,” he promised.
“I’ll keep him in line,” Finna vowed.
Viggo snorted. “Good luck with that.”
“Idris is right down the hall if you need anything.” I released Jande, and crossed to the door. “You’re sure you’re okay to miss school?”
“We only had two performance exams scheduled, and both of those professors said this more than qualified for independent study. We’re clear.” Jande poured water into a pot, and pulled two mugs from the cabinet.
“One look at those crystals, and I can see why.” Finna glanced over her shoulder, clearly eager to get back into her lab. “They have elements on Vanaheim we’ve never even heard of! The properties they must be able to channel here are unfathomable.”
“I’m sure,” I said. “Just make sure you get everyone set up with their resonance codes before you start researching the effects of unicorn horns, or troll diamonds, or whatever other crystals they’ve got in that collection.”
Jande banged a cabinet door closed. “They have troll diamonds here? Good gods, we’ll be able to time travel.”
“Nobody is time traveling,” Finna said sternly. “You know that’s beyond our security clearance.”
My brows shot to my forehead. “There’s such a thing as time travel?”
“Yes,” Jande nodded seriously. “But the mechanism has proven elusive on Alfheim, on account of the lack of proper tools. But if they have troll diamonds . . .”
“Uh . . .” I toed the ground. “I didn’t know those were real things. I just made them up.”
Jande’s shoulders sagged. “Why would you do that to me?”
“To be fair, it seemed like a pretty absurd combination of words.”
Finna’s lips quirked up. “Well, they’re real. And it turns out they have two pairs in the royal collection.”
“So, we do have troll diamonds?” Jande bounced on his toes.
“No time travel,” Finna said sternly.
Jande transferred the now-steaming water to two mugs. He added tea balls to each, and passed a mug to Finna with a sigh. “You have to go to sleep eventually.”
“That’s our cue.” I opened the door, and tugged Viggo after me. “Do good, both of you. But especially you, Jande.”
“I am always good. Tell Ondyr I miss him already,” Jande called.
“Will do.”
Maja, Viggo and I left them, Bifrosting back to Alfheim
in a considerably calmer transport than the one we’d taken in. After debriefing with Signy, and drafting a summary of what we knew about the specter, we ate a quick dinner and headed off to bed. Since Maja was staying in the empty room three down from mine, I walked her to her door and checked to make sure she didn’t need anything.
“The telepaths can send up any items you forgot, so be sure to ask—there’s a com near the door. Just push this button”—I pointed—“and whatever you ask for will appear.”
“Sounds good.” Maja yawned. “See you in the morning.”
“See you,” I said. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I turned and threw my arms around the faerie.
“Ouch. You’re squishing my wings.”
“Sorry.” I pulled back so I could hug her more gently.
“Why are we touching?” Maja shifted uncomfortably.
“Because you’re my friend,” I said. “And you helped me this weekend. Thank you.”
“You can thank me by not hugging me.”
I released her with a sigh. “One of these days, you’re going to admit that you like me.”
“I like you fine,” Maja said. “Just never hug me again.”
I turned on one heel and headed back to my dorm. “I can’t promise that,” I called over my shoulder.
“Try!” Maja called back.
I closed my door with a chuckle. We might never be best friends, but we made a decent team. And somehow, I knew we’d end up needing each other.
More than I could possibly imagine.
Finna hadn’t been wrong about the unrest in Alfheim. As the week went on, it only continued to grow. Another defacing occurred at the capital—this time a piece of art commissioned to mark last year’s return of the Opprør senators. And a nearby community garden burned down in the night, whether by accident or arson, we couldn’t determine. The air surrounding the capital was thick with both smoke and unease. Something was brewing, and though our security teams couldn’t pinpoint any outside interference, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Narrik had something to do with it. He’d been quiet for too long. These seeds of discord during a period of peace couldn’t have been mere coincidence.
But I couldn’t think too much about the issues in the capital. I kept my nose to the books all week, spending every available moment preparing for my last ever set of exams. After Friday’s grueling Verge final, I treated myself to a twenty-minute nap before I dragged my exhausted carcass out of bed and headed to the royal residence for my weekly educational meeting with Constance. As was our custom, I dressed for tea and met her in the palace garden. A table for two was set amidst the roses, its white linen cloth topped with china cups, saucers, and plates. My grandmother stood in front of the three-story fountain, tossing crumbs to the large, golden fish who lived in its bottom pool.
“Rule the realm, feed the fish,” I teased as I made my way across the grass. “A regent’s duties never end.”
“Something you’d be wise to remember,” Constance said. She turned with a small smile, and held her hand out to the table. “Join me?”
“I always do.” I took my seat across from my grandmother, laying my napkin across my lap and folding my hands together the way Eunice had taught me. “So, what’s today’s royal lesson? The greeting protocol for foreign dignitaries? How to not tick off a fire giant?”
“None of those.” Constance fell silent while a white-gloved waiter poured tea into each of our cups. He set the rose-patterned teapot onto a trivet, then used silver tongs to retrieve finger sandwiches from the tiered platter at the edge of the table.
Once he’d left, I raised my teacup to my lips. “Best housewarming gift for a castle dedication?”
“No, Aura.” Constance met my gaze with a sad smile. “Today I want to tell you how I’d live my life if I had to do it over again.”
Oh, gods.
I set my teacup down. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“I’ve just had my physical, and now that the dust has finally left my system, I’m healthier than I’ve been in years.” Constance raised her chin. “Thank you for asking.”
“Then why such a wonk-wonk lesson?”
“Excuse me?” My grandmother frowned.
“Why are you being sentimental?” I narrowed my eyes. “It’s not like you.”
“No. It’s not,” she agreed. “But seeing as you’re about to begin your reign, I’d like to encourage you to make different mistakes from mine.”
Fair enough.
“When I was your age, I had none of the responsibilities I do now. My parents let me be young—go to school, travel the realm, find my sense of purpose in my own way. Security was always an issue, and I had to take care not to put myself or Alfheim at risk. But I had freedoms you never will, for far longer than I had any right to. My parents ruled our realm until I was much older than you are now, and when they passed away, I was well prepared to step into their shoes. Or, so I thought.”
Constance sipped her tea, and I took the opportunity to sample one of the finger sandwiches on my plate. My nose wrinkled as the distinctive taste of dill weed hit my tongue. Blech. I discreetly slipped the bite into my napkin, and shook it out beneath the table. One of the chipmunks would eat it later. I hope.
“So, what happened?” I asked.
“I lacked your confidence.” Constance shook her head. “I’d been well trained by my parents, and I knew exactly what I needed to do to uphold the values they’d brought to their reign. But I was insecure—I’d never been comfortable with the idea of becoming queen, and I doubted my own ability to make the kinds of decisions that would affect an entire realm.”
Same, Constance.
“What did you do?” I picked up a lingonberry finger sandwich.
“I outsourced too many of my duties,” Constance said. “I brought in an expert on diplomacy to oversee relations between different regions on-realm. I appointed a cultural minister to uphold the traditions my predecessors had taken care to nurture. And to manage matters of day-to-day oversight, I created a position titled Minister of State. My initial selection for the role handled it admirably—I selected a member of my parents’ cabinet, one I’d known my entire life, and who’d spent decades proving he had the best interest of Alfheim at heart. But . . .”
Constance’s eyes dropped down to her teacup.
“But?” I prompted.
“But then he died,” she said uneasily. “Very abruptly, without having ever been ill. His death was not only unexpected, but it left me scrambling to fill his position. I should have taken it over myself—I had the skills, and as the realm was at peace, the actual duties were more than manageable. But I continued to doubt myself. And when a promising young politician stepped forward to ask for the job . . . I gave it to him.”
My breath hitched. “Narrik.”
Constance nodded. “Fyrs presented himself admirably. At least, he did for the short time I observed him before your mother passed, and I spent those two years in solitude. You’d never have known back then that Fyrs was capable of becoming, well, what he is now. But I should have seen it. Or I should have had him thoroughly vetted by my Empatis before handing over that level of control. That’s been my biggest mistake, Aura—and one I urge you not to repeat. I didn’t trust myself to do the job. I didn’t trust my own instincts. I should have been more involved—taken the reigns of my own life; my own rule; my own realm. I should have done the necessary research and made the hard calls that were in my power to make. I believe in destiny, and I do believe I was gifted this role for a reason. But I squandered whatever faith the Norns placed in me the moment I ceased to be an active participant in my own life.”
My heart tugged. “Constance . . .”
“My other mistake was failing to rely on the healthy support system my parents had put in place for me. You have to be able to trust those you surround yourself with. You’re going to need them, in dark times and in good. And make no mistake, you will face dark times. Nothing so extre
me as what I put our realm through, gods willing. But there will always be an ebb and flow—some eras favor the light, and sometimes we scramble to maintain our foothold. No matter which phase we’re in, my hope for you is that you’ve surrounded yourself with an honorable team on whom you can rely no matter what.”
My grandmother spoke so earnestly, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“You never had that team.” I leaned forward. “Not that I saw, at any rate.”
“I did in the beginning of my reign,” she admitted. “My parents left me a cabinet filled with individuals who loved them, loved their legacy, and wanted to see it continue through me. They gave me all the tools I needed to thrive, but I lacked the confidence I needed to do the job. That’s my own fault, and the realm paid heavily for it. Trust yourself, Aura. And trust the friends you’ve brought onto our cabinet. They’re strong-minded, honorable souls. It doesn’t take an Empati to see that.”
“They’re pretty rad.” I grinned at the queen. “And I definitely trust them, a hundred percent. But I don’t know that I can say the same for myself. This job’s a lot. I get why you second-guessed your ability to handle it.”
“I lacked your strength.” Constance shook her head. “Everything was handled for me my entire life, so despite my family’s best intentions, I never properly learned to stand on my own. Whereas you knew adversity from practically the moment you were born. You were raised off-realm, without the parents you deserved . . .”
I reached across the table to touch Constance’s hand. “I wish I’d known my parents. There’s no getting around that. But I didn’t lack for love in my upbringing. Signy and Larkin and Elin . . . they’re my family every bit as much as the one I was born into. They’ve stood by me through everything, and given me more support and chances than I had any right to expect. It may not have been a conventional royal upbringing, but it made me who I am. And I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”
Tears filled my grandmother’s eyes. “I am sorry, Aura. I’ve caused you so much pain.”