And this is why I had to sever the mating bond—to find out that deep down under that sexy exterior, you’re still a monster.
I smiled grimly. At least she’d called me sexy.
It didn’t matter what she said. With the mating bond cut, anything I’d felt had withered away like vines in the frost.
“Galin,” she said. “We need to talk. In private. Will you walk with me back to my room?”
I nodded and followed her into the hallway. As we started walking, she glanced at my chest. No—she was staring.
“So when are you going to put on a shirt?” she asked. “It’s distracting.”
A smile ghosted over my lips. “Distracting? Why would that be? Is it the sexy exterior that’s a problem?”
Her cheeks reddened. “No. As we have both agreed, neither of us feel anything for each other. Right? Anything that happened before was just magic. Now you might as well be …” She gestured at a candle in a sconce. “You’re like that candle. That is how much emotion I feel.”
“Right, we feel nothing at all. And yet you seem flustered,” I murmured.
“Did you get a bit of an ego as King of the Dead, or did I just never notice how bad it was before?”
“I was just repeating your phrase,” I purred. “Sexy exterior. Your words.”
She shook her head, a strand of silver falling before her eyes. “I meant sexy in an objective way. Other people would say you are sexy, probably. Simple-minded people. What I meant was that your bare chest is distracting because of the runes. They move in a distracting way.”
“The runes are a gift from the goddess. A shirt would disturb them.”
Her jaw tightened, and anger shone in her eyes when she looked at me. Jealousy? “A gift. How nice of her. What a lovely woman. Are they what allowed you to disappear?”
“With them inked on my skin I can move from one place to another without calling a portal. But they bind me to Hela, as well.”
Ali nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Like branding an animal. You’re her beast of burden. It’s quite the relationship you two have.”
Irritation sparked. So this was what she was like without the mating bond.
An absolute nightmare.
“Why exactly did you ask me to speak to you in private? Was it to talk about my chest, or to insult me? I could do without either. Considering neither of us feel a thing for each other, perhaps our time could be better spent getting ready for the journey.”
“No.” She shot me another nervous look, her face flushed. “I think we might have gotten off to a bad start. If we are going to go off together, we should probably be on better terms.”
“And how do you propose to make that happen?”
She lifted her eyebrows hopefully. “Are you hungry?”
We’d reached the door to her quarters. I frowned, unused to feeling anything at all. But I did feel a hollowness in my stomach. Hunger. “Famished.”
Ali led me inside. When I was in her quarters before, my senses had been adjusting to Vanaheim, the sunlight, the scent of living things. I hadn’t really looked around me.
“This is the old Emperor’s chambers,” I said.
My memories stirred. The old Emperor had attacked Ali, tried to have his way with her. She killed him, but it was close. I couldn’t imagine why she’d want to stay in the same rooms where he once lived.
“Yes,” said Ali. “All Vanir Emperors have lived in these quarters. Hundreds, I’ve been told. Swegde said there was no other option.”
I gritted my teeth, increasingly certain I didn’t like Swegde.
But as I looked around, I saw that Ali had been busy decorating. She’d brought in more plants, and some large crystals that I assumed must have been from the Shadow Caverns.
She’d even hung a painting of a goat on the wall—one that appeared to be standing on top of a large purple mushroom. I looked closer. Was it drinking a beer?
Ali pointed at it. “That’s Jeremy the Alcoholic Goat. Barthol painted it for me. You see? The world cannot live without his talent.”
She was making a joke, but I could hear the worry in her voice. “He will be fine. Hela wants me to return. As long as I go back to my place as King of the Dead, I don’t think she’ll hurt him.”
I surveyed the rest of the room. I recognized the double doors that led to the pool. Nearby was a shelf arranged with a large collection of LPs and a small record player.
In the dark ashes of my chest, something stirred. “You have a whole music collection?”
“Yes,” said Ali. “Okay, it might be indulgent, but they asked me what I wanted for my room. And I wanted music from Midgard. I haven’t had a chance to see what they chose for me yet.”
She crossed over to the records. When her arm brushed against mine—for just a moment—I thought I felt a quickening of my heart. I watched as she pulled out an album I hadn’t seen in a thousand years. She stared at the cover.
“What is this?” she murmured. “All these men in strange costumes with flowers. It’s pretty.”
Ali pulled the record out and dropped it onto the player. Wonderful music filled the air—songs from a time long ago. As it played, she walked to the door. Under the song, I heard her speaking to a servant outside, ordering dinner for us both.
She crossed back into the room with an uncertain smile on her face. Once my mate, now we just felt awkward around each other. She bit her lip. “I really like the tune, but the lyrics don’t make any sense. Is it about stars?”
“It’s called ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.’ It’s short for LSD. A hallucinogenic drug from the world of man.”
“Oh!” said Ali. “Like berserker mushrooms, or fairy wine.”
Now it was my turn to be confused. “Fairy wine?”
“You haven’t heard of fairy wine? I thought you were a famous sorcerer.”
“I never claimed to be omniscient. Just to have a sexy exterior. That’s my main claim to fame.”
She glowered at me, which delighted me. “Well, fairy wine is wine that fairies drink. It makes you lose your inhibitions, but it can be an aphrodisiac. If you weren’t dead inside you’d have to be careful. But as it is, I don’t think you’d need to worry.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Have you tried it?”
“Oh no,” said Ali, a little too quickly. “Barthol drank some at the last feast. He went crazy, but fortunately not in an aphrodisiac way, or I would have vomited. He just ran around in his cave bear jacket while shouting that he was the Goat King.” She folded her arms. “I’m sure it’s not as fun as being King of Hel.”
“Fun means nothing to me anymore.” I wasn’t lying. Ever since the severing of the mating bond, I felt as though I’d been hollowed out, emptied of desire, a husk of my former self. The worst part was, I could remember those feelings, the unquenchable thirst, the burning need for my mate. But now that was gone. Without the fate the Norns had written for me, I was unmoored.
I could recognize Ali’s sublime beauty, but inside my chest it was as if someone had poured water on a fire—nothing but wet ashes remained.
So I would return to Hel—long enough to get her brother back. But then I would find a way to break free. I would not remain consort of Hela for long.
And that was the other reason I needed to get to Mimisbrunnr. The well’s waters would reveal my new fate. I would be made whole again, with a shining path before me.
I would feel again, truly live again.
A knock sounded at the door, and a moment later a guard wheeled in a cart piled with food. He rolled it over to the window, and began sliding dishes onto a table there, along with a platter of various cheeses, pickled vegetables, and cured meats. “There is charcuterie, a fresh loaf of sourdough, a watercress salad with pine nuts, and a roast chicken with sage.” He lifted a silver cloche to reveal a steaming chicken.
I took a seat across from Ali. After a month in Hel eating gruel, even my dead heart could recognize how delicious the food smelled.
&nbs
p; The servant pulled a bottle from the tray. “This is a local varietal, similar to Syrah. Jammy, with a hint of blackberries.” He opened the wine, then poured glasses for Ali and me.
I took a sip. The flavor exploded across my palette, and I almost felt a hint of enjoyment before the sensation faded again.
Ali tried hers. “This is delicious.”
The servant smiled. “I’m very glad you enjoy it, Empress.”
As he left, Ali grinned. “The Vanir are all really into food. I’ve come a long way from mushroom soup.”
I started with the slightly tart watercress salad, then the rich, earthy chicken.
And yet, only when I had a new fate would I truly enjoy food again.
I glanced at Ali as I sipped my wine, feeling a million miles away from her still—no longer my mate, the wild Night Elf. She was now Empress of the Vanir.
She studied me with silver eyes. How long would it be until someone tried to make this beauty his wife?
Darkness sank into my bones.
I rose from the table. “I’m afraid I’m not hungry after all.”
She frowned. “Right. Dead inside.”
“But I will meet you in the morning, Ali. We will do fine as traveling companions.”
I left the room, shadows spreading through my chest.
Chapter 10
Ali
We’d been hiking for hours in complete silence. I wanted to sit, drink some water from the canteen on my hip, maybe take in the view. But some kind of stupid pride made me reluctant to admit I was tired. Or maybe a competitiveness with the Goddess of the Dead. She’d never have tired legs.
So as much as my legs burned, I pushed on. Pain, I reminded myself, is something I can handle. I looked at my missing finger. It wasn’t long ago that I’d cauterized it on a hot stove. A walk through fields? I could handle that.
And yet I wasn’t sure what was more painful—my tired muscles, or the total silence from Galin. Or the knowledge that he’d been a willing consort of Hela.
What an idiot I’d been to think he’d still like me after I severed the mating bond. Stupid, stupid Ali.
At least the scenery was gorgeous.
We’d started in Jotunfjell’s boreal forest of spruce and Scots pine, where squirrels and birds skittered among the branches. As we gained elevation, we crossed into beautiful alpine meadows. Here, bees and butterflies flew among the grasses dappled with yellow wildflowers. Little rodents perched on top of boulders, squeaking loudly if we got too close. Galin told me they were called lemmings.
Above us, in the bluebird-blue sky, soared massive eagles.
Being aboveground still felt glorious. It would never get old.
We pressed on, hiking towards the looming edifice of Mount Steton. The sides of the granite slope were bare rock, which steepened until they reached a narrow peak with a flat top, like the end of a dagger that had been snapped off. I had no idea how we were going to climb the thing, but Galin was confident we could do it.
Still there was no sign of the Bifrost bridge. It was supposed to extend from the peak of Mount Steton all the way to Asgard, but as far as I could see there was nothing up there but empty air.
All day, Galin had been brooding and taciturn, still refusing to put on a shirt.
“Aren’t you cold?” I asked.
“No,” he said quietly. “The magic of Hel keeps me warm.”
“What exactly does Hela’s magic do? I mean apart from the whole disappearing and reappearing thing.”
“It strengthens me. She’s imbued the runes with her power. As long as I wear them, I can draw upon her strength.”
“I see,” I said slowly. “So they’re sort of like a wand that’s been tattooed onto your skin.”
“Or I’m like a branded beast, as you said.”
I swallowed hard. “Are you worried about what she will do after you return to Hel? You’re ruining her plans right now.”
“I will find a way to survive, Ali. I always have. Even if it meant being dead for a thousand years. I’m still here.”
It wasn’t as reassuring as I would have hoped.
We walked in silence again, the trail twisting along the edge of a meadow before ducking into a grove of aspens. As we followed the path between the spindly trees, a gentle gust of wind rustled the leaves, spinning them like the wings of a thousand butterflies. From there, we continued on to a rocky talus slope. More of the lemmings squeaked at us.
I glanced at Galin again, still bothered by the runes. “Why can’t you just use your own magic to keep you warm?”
“Well, when I had Levateinn I would scribe the runes in the right order, and then something magical would happen, like a portal or a gout of fire. Scribing the runes, plus having the wand made the magic happen. Now I don’t need the wand—I have Loki’s magic through his daughter.”
“What’s the source? A god’s soul?”
The wind toyed with his dark hair. “We all have some magic. You have magic right now. In fact, you have enough magic in your body to do all the things you could do when you had Levateinn.”
“What?”
A smile ghosted over his beautiful lips. “Magic is innate. You just need to learn to draw upon it.”
“Woah,” I whispered. Was it really possible that I could do magic without Levateinn?
I stopped and extended my index finger, as I’d seen Galin do a hundred times before. Quickly I scribed the runes for the fire spell.
Nothing happened.
Galin was watching me, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “Your dexterity is excellent, but casting a spell is more than just scribing the runes. You have to put yourself into it. The magic comes from your emotions. For fire magic, you need to feel rage. Scribing the runes transforms that emotion into tangible fire. Did you feel angry when you were scribing?”
“No. Just …” Tired, which I didn’t want to admit.
Galin nodded. “Ok, watch me.”
He raised his right hand, his brow furrowed with concentration, then effortlessly traced the fire runes.
An instant later, a three-foot flame burst from the air ten feet in front of him. It guttered for a second in the alpine wind, before he extinguished it with a flick of his wrist.
“But without emotions, I must use Hela’s magic. Why don’t you try scribing the fire spell again? This time think of something that makes you angry. A dangerously sexy egomaniacal monster, perhaps.”
Frowning at him, I raised my right hand. Again I scribed the runes. This time, as I spoke them out loud, I thought of Hela. First she’d taken Galin. Then she’d taken Barthol. My poor brother was trapped in Hel, probably imprisoned in some dank dungeon surrounded by shades.
The image of Hela striding naked from her bathroom intruded on my consciousness. Of course he’d been her consort of his own free will. What man could resist a goddess?
Sadness tightened my throat, and my concentration flagged.
“Crap,” I said, dropping my arm.
“It’s more difficult than it looks, isn’t it? It took me more than a year before I could cast my first fire spell. I’m not sure if you noticed, but the air shimmered with a little heat. The issue is that you lost focus. You need to hold the rage, all the way until the spell is complete. You know how you call Skalei?”
“Yes,” I said, not understanding how my shadow blade had anything to do with scribing the fire spell.
“Well, you believe Skalei will come any time you call her, right? The dagger is part of you.”
“Yes …” The very thought of Skalei not coming for me was terrifying. She was always there for me, razor sharp protection at my literal fingertips. I’d nearly lost my mind in the Audr Prison Mine when she was taken from me.
“Magic’s the same way. You have to believe that it will work, that it’s part of you. Magic comes from the strength of your feelings. And that is why I need Hela’s runes.”
I stared at him. “You are alive again. You are no longer a lich. You should be able t
o feel. I don’t understand what happened to you.”
“You did.” He turned, walking away from me again.
The words stole my breath. Gods alive.
I hurried to keep up with him. “What do you mean?”
“My fate was written by the Norns. Without it, I am only half alive. It’s not important. I was going to tell you about Hela’s magic.”
“Right.” I was starting to hate the subject of Hela.
“The gods don’t have souls,” he said. “At least not in the mortal sense. Instead their magic comes from their worshipers. Ancient Midgard had a story called Peter Pan. There’s a fairy named Tinker Bell. It was written by a human, so the magic is totally made up, but there’s a famous line where it’s explained that if a child says they don’t believe in fairies then somewhere a fairy falls down dead. Basically fairies exist only because children believe in them. The gods are the same. Because we all believe in them, they have power.”
I grimaced. “Despite the dead fairies in that book, it still sounds more cheerful than the stories the Night Elves tell their kids. There is a monster called Enlil who will eat your toes off if you don’t trim your fingernails, and a witch who’ll bake you alive if you don’t listen to your parents. Anyway, so if I want to do magic, I just have to learn to feel incandescently angry at a moment’s notice?”
“For the fire spell, yes. Other spells require different emotions. The spell for light requires happiness, and the portal spell requires you to feel love.”
Wonderful. “Okay, well I will work on that.” My tone had gone frosty, and I wondered what kind of magic quiet rage and a searing sense of betrayal could create.
Probably not anything good.
And yet, I wanted to try again.
I turned, staring out over the vista. Spread before me were thickly forested foothills, which tumbled down to the distant plains of Vanaheim. “Okay. Let me give this another shot.”
“I’ll help.” Galin stepped behind me. “Try the fire spell again, but this time just incant the words. I’ll take care of the scribing.”
He took hold of my hands. I stared at his thumbs and forefingers, effortlessly encircling my wrists. High Elves were enormous. His powerful forearms were close to, but not quite touching mine.
Shadow Empress (Night Elves Trilogy Book 3) Page 6