by S. T. Bende
Chapter 18
I WITHDREW ONE HAND from Viggo’s and held it up. “That doesn’t make sense. If the Huldra already stole the crystal, why hasn’t she given it to my uncle yet?”
“Maybe she’s waiting until your uncle captures you—or maybe she wants to capture you herself, to make sure she gets paid,” Viggo suggested.
“She can’t take it off-realm because it’s tethered here.” I winced. “Finna worked that out with the Elementär—it’s why we’ve limited our crystal search to Alfheim. And if the Huldra can’t take it to my uncle, then that means—”
“Your uncle’s coming here to get it,” Viggo finished.
“Awesome.” I groaned.
“So, we have to steal the crystal back from the Huldra before your uncle shows up. Then we’ll return it to the tree, hope whoever’s in charge of guarding it comes up with significantly better security, re-open the channel to Midgard, and bring Ondyr and your friend’s mom home.” Viggo shook his head. “No big deal, right?”
My head swam. “Right. And if I help retrieve the crystal and save the realm, the Opprør will have to back me when I challenge the queen—assuming their leaders get returned soon and can bring their members to my side.”
“I think the remaining Opprør will back you right now—crystal or no.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “If all of Alfheim can see me as an asset rather than another potential liability, they’ll be more likely to stand with me. I can’t force the queen off the throne without support.”
“Fair enough. How much does Professor Bergen know about all of this?” Viggo asked.
“She knows everything I do. A few of us have been getting together regularly to pool what we know; kind of a task force. I’ve filled Signy in after every meeting.”
“My invite must have gotten lost in the mail.”
“You weren’t exactly being nice to me.” I shot Viggo a pointed look, ignoring the way the sun glinted off his lightly tanned, impressively toned, still naked chest. Yum.
No, not yum. Stop it.
“Fair enough.” Viggo sighed. “But I’m going to work on that.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Viggo pushed himself to his feet. “Enough talking. Let’s go save the world.”
I offered a tentative smile as I stood. After weeks of uncomfortable interactions, it was good to have Viggo on my side. Even if . . .
“Hey,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “Why did you come up to me in the dining hall that first night? Did you know I was the queen’s granddaughter?”
“I did.”
“But how? Signy and I never told anybody.”
“You didn’t have to. Svartalfheim knew you’d survived the attack sixteen years ago—or at least, whoever wanted you dead did. My parents heard they were working on a way to track you, but I guess it took a while to develop. Ondyr got a hold of one of the tracking prototypes, gave it to me, and—”
“And you used it to find me in the dining hall. Did you know I was half dark elf all along?”
“I did,” Viggo said calmly.
Seriously?
“And it didn’t freak you out that your training partner was half evil?”
“Not all dark elves are bad, Aura.” Viggo shrugged. “Ondyr isn’t. And it doesn’t sound like your dad was, either, or your mom wouldn’t have fallen for him. Right?”
Right.
“Huh. Look at that.” Viggo reached out to touch the tip of my wing with a finger. A light shiver radiated down the appendage, zapping me as if I’d been shocked. My eyes immediately went to Viggo’s bare abdomen, and it took every ounce of restraint not to drool.
“Look at what?” I squeaked. Calm, Aura. Take it down a notch.
“You have one too. See?” Viggo gently pinched my wing between two fingers and pulled it down so it was level with my face. The zapping intensified, shooting just south of my navel. Double yum.
“What is that? I have a wing freckle? A wing tattoo? What do you call that thing?” I studied the dark grey mark. It was shaped like a sword, a thick blade ending in an intricate hilt. Weird. Hold on. Did he just say . . . My back stiffened, my legs locked, and liquid ice ricocheted through my veins. “Uh, what do you mean, too?”
Viggo released my wing and pinched his own. “I have one just like it, in the same spot. See?”
Please, gods, no. My breath stalled as Viggo moved his fingers aside to reveal a dark grey mark. It was an exact replica of my own, down to the thickness of the sword’s blade and the intricacies of its hilt.
Holy freaking sugar. Viggo and I had twin marks. If the so-called myth Finna had told me on my first day was true, that meant he was . . . that Viggo was . . .
Viggo Sörensson is my mate? I have a freaking mate? What. The. Actual. Helheim?
“When my wings popped and I saw the mark, I figured it was some kind of tribute to my parents—they were both warriors.” Viggo’s casual tone did not at all match the speed at which my world was falling out from under me. Why wasn’t he freaking out about being sixteen and mated? Mated? Bound together for all eternity and tasked with strengthening the future of the light elf race through an eternal freaking bond?
“Uh-huh,” I stammered.
My brain spun, trying to rationalize my new reality. Myth marks were just a stupid old wives’ tale. There was absolutely no truth to the myth. Zero. Zilch. Because no way could Frigga, Odin, or any deific being with an ounce of compassion expect me to spend the rest of my life with Viggo. He was annoyingly sarcastic—his snide comments had left me fuming more days than I could count. He was overconfident to the point of being cocky—if I had to hear one more time how he went easy on me in the training center, I was going to figure out how to smother him with his ridiculously fitted workout clothes. He was a liar—he’d been sneaking into the woods for weeks trying to smuggle a dark elf into the realm, even if said dark elf was a decent guy. And he was way too into himself. Honestly, how much time could a guy spend arranging his inky black hair into precisely crafted waves? Unless he just rolled out of bed that way. I’d never thought to ask him how he came to look so hot every morning.
Shut up, brain! He is not hot!
My heart thumped. Actually, those overworked waves did frame his face pretty perfectly. His dimple was so irritatingly cute, it occasionally made me forget about his sarcasm. And his snarky remarks were kind of funny—especially that one about Britney and her mindless minions. Plus, he modeled the values of the Verge program to a tee, with his two-a-day workouts, and healthy diet, and impeccable study habits, and gorgeous abs, and—
My gods, just stop. Don’t talk yourself into liking this guy because of some stupid wing tattoo. Just because you’re theoretically mated doesn’t mean you have to choose to be with him. You can still walk away and go live a monastic life with the meadow elves or the tree elves or the cat lady elves . . . can’t you?
I honestly didn’t know the answer. I added Protocol for Mates to the long list of things I needed to ask Signy.
“That’s right. You didn’t know your dad.” Was Viggo still talking about the wing tattoo? Oh, jeez. I’d missed a half-minute of monologue. “Well, maybe the mark has something to do with the Verge discipline. Do the other students in the program have these marks too?”
“I—uh . . .” Oh. Oh! Yes! My lucky break appeared in a flash of joy. Viggo must not have heard the myth! That blissful piece of ignorance would buy me time to wrap my head around being sixteen and freaking mated to my freaking training partner.
If the story was even true.
“Yes. That’s it.” The lie spilled easily from my lips. “The other Verge students must have them too. But I haven’t seen them because they’re, uh, hidden,” I improvised. “We can tuck our wings in, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, that’s why ours are where they are. So that when we retract our wings, nobody can see our marks. It lets us go undercover. You know, for warrior-type things.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “That’s it. So it’s, you know, probably best if we don’t tell anyone about them. You never know who might be listening.”
“Smart thinking.” Viggo winked, the sparkle in his eye making my heart surge all over again.
This whole thing was seriously going to suck.
“Yep. So. We should probably get back to school. Finna should be out of classes by now, and we can pick her brain about any updates about the crystal from the Elementär. Let’s go.” I took off at a jog.
“Aura?” Viggo called from behind me. “School’s that way.”
I turned around. “Right. Just up through that, um . . .”
“Through the waterfall.” Viggo studied me carefully as I ran toward him. “Are you all right?”
“Never better.” I chirped.
“Want me to teach you how to fly?” Viggo leapt into the air and flapped twice, soaring in a graceful arc before landing halfway up the rock formation. “It’s a lot easier to get back to campus that way. Especially since you’re not wearing shoes. Thanks again for throwing yours at me.”
“That’s okay,” I croaked. “I like climbing.”
I’d been through enough today. I’d worry about learning to fly next week. Or never.
“Suit yourself.” Viggo flapped again so his silver wings brought him back to me. He landed easily in the grass and held up a palm. “Need help getting up to the top? Remember, it’s slippery where the mist meets the moss.”
“I’ve got it. Thanks. You can, uh, go second. I might need you to catch me.” My cheeks flamed.
“Is that an invitation or a challenge?” Viggo’s dimple popped. Crêpes, he thought I was flirting. Because I was.
Shut up, no I’m not!
“Just a failsafe.” I kept my voice level and focused very hard on not making eye contact. “Training partners have each other’s backs, right?”
“Uh-huh.” I ignored the amusement in Viggo’s voice and began my awkward barefoot climb. When I finally reached the entrance to the cave, my tank top dripped with sweat, my arms trembled, and moss coated my skirt. But I’d avoided flirting with Viggo, and I’d kept our awkward secret to myself. Considering the way my day was going, that was a definite win.
By the time we made it back to school, the queen’s entourage had cleared.
“How do I put my wings away, again?” I whispered as we approached campus.
“Shoulders forward, intend they fold up. Why do you want them retracted?” Viggo asked.
“I get stared at enough as it is. I don’t need to give anyone a fluttering reason to do it more.” Duh.
“But being an älva is who you are.” Viggo’s too-intense stare brought heat to my cheeks.
“You’ve been hiding yours,” I countered.
Because obviously, the best defense was an offense.
“Of course I have! I’m the first male Key in ages. My parents were leaders of the Opprør. And all of Svartalfheim has been hunting me for the past two years. There’s a target on my back a mile wide, and my only advantage is that the dark elves don’t seem to know what I look like. But they do know my parents were älva, so you’d better believe they’re looking for a guy with a set of wings. Would you flaunt your most distinguishing feature?”
Nope.
“So, it’s agreed. We hide our wings. Or . . .” I raked my bottom lip between my teeth. Gods, I was so sick of worrying all the time. “Or we don’t.”
Viggo’s brows knitted together. “Huh?”
“I’m tired of hiding who I am.” I flexed my shoulders, experimentally flapping my wings. “Yes, I’m being hunted by my dark elf-uncle. Yes, I’m related to the monster destroying the realm, and yes, I now have wings too—seriously not cool, by the way—but that doesn’t mean I’m anything like her. I’m me. Wings and all. And everyone can just deal with it.”
Viggo raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, Glitre?”
“It’s all going to come out eventually, isn’t it?” I shrugged. “I might as well face the music.”
Viggo stared at the sky. “You know what? I’m in. Screw the dark elves. I fly fast—they won’t be able to catch me, anyway.”
So, he was going to stay shirtless, then? I mean, no way could he fit a shirt over those wings. Right? Triple yum.
I ignored the fluttering in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten lunch. Obviously, the fluttering was a symptom of hunger.
I kept my eyes straight ahead as I entered the courtyard, ignoring the curious stares of the students who gawked at my bare feet, sweaty tank, moss covered skirt, blood-caked everything, and fluttering, shimmery appendages. By the time we reached the academy’s door, the courtyard was a buzz of whispers and giggles. I didn’t turn around. Nothing the student body may have guessed could hold a candle to my reality: a Huldra wanted my soul, my uncle wanted me dead, and Viggo Sörenssen was my mate.
And I wasn’t sure which of the three frightened me most.
Chapter 19
VIGGO OPENED THE DOOR of my room and held out a hand. “After you.”
As I crossed the threshold, Elin’s eyes morphed into massive spheres of shock. A glance in the floor-length mirror in the entryway revealed I looked even worse than I’d thought. My clothes were torn and bloodied, my hair was matted, my wings were glittering, and I was lacking shoes. Viggo looked, well, perfect. As always.
Plus, he was still shirtless.
“Good gods. What happened to you?” Elin jumped up from her desk. She raced to my side and pulled me in for a gentle hug before leaning back to mouth, You okay? When I nodded, she whirled on Viggo, who hadn’t quite made it through the doorway. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.” He held up his hands. “She attacked me with her shoes, and I didn’t even defend myself.”
“Uh, huh.” Elin tapped her foot. For a tiny thing, she did fury like no other.
“He didn’t do this to me,” I confirmed. “I’m just having a really bad day. You may have noticed I’m a faerie now.” I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder.
“Is that where the blood came from?” Elin turned me around to study my wings. “Oh, Aura. It looks so painful!”
“It is. Was. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Wait.” I whirled around to face Viggo. “It’s not going to hurt again, is it? The ripping was a one-time deal?”
“It was a one-time deal,” he confirmed, finally stepping into my room. His wings fluttered softly with the movement.
“Thank gods,” I muttered.
“You have them too.” Elin gaped as Viggo’s wings glinted beneath the chandelier.
Viggo shrugged. “We need your help.”
“Anything.” Elin pulled me toward her bed, appeared to think better of it, then ran to the bathroom. She came back with a plushy towel she placed on the bedspread. “Okay, sit. And talk.”
“Where do we begin . . .” Viggo’s wings folded neatly around him as he settled into Elin’s desk chair. He ran his fingers through his inky hair while I climbed onto the bed and tried not to get dirt and blood on the duvet.
“Hold on. We need to bring Wynter in on this. And Finna. And Signy. Pass me my data pad?” I pointed to the tablet on my nightstand. Viggo reached over to pick it up. Our fingers brushed when he handed it to me, and heat crept steadily up my neck.
Elin smirked.
“Shut up,” I hissed.
“I didn’t—”
The click of the opening door cut Elin off. Finna backed into the entryway carrying a science project and calling over her shoulder. “Anybody home?”
“Hello?” Jande bellowed from behind Finna.
“In here,” Elin said, now snickering at me. I ignored her as I finished typing my first message. I sent it to Wynter, then hurriedly typed a second to Signy. Since Finna was already here, that task was mo
ot.
“Good.” Finna set the diorama on the table beneath the key hook and held the door for Jande. “You’ll never believe what everyone’s talking about. The Styra are saying Aura and Viggo came out of the woods with bedhead and either torn or missing clothes, we heard conflicting reports, and with wings! Isn’t that hysterical. We’d know if Aura had wings. And she would never make out with Viggo in the middle of the—” Finna pivoted on one heel, and her mouth dropped open.
“Well, well, well.” Jande looked between Viggo and me, his canary-eating grin stretching from ear to ear as his eyes settled on my training partner’s naked chest. “Two winged lovebirds. One sans his shirt. I told you it was true. Finna, you owe me your lapis lazuli.”
I held up one hand in a sheepish wave. “The wings part is right, but we didn’t make out.”
“She just wishes we did,” Viggo added. I leaned over to punch him in the shoulder. Hard. “Ouch.”
“I’m glad you guys are here—we need your science brains. Tell Viggo about the lock on the Sterkvart,” I pressed forward. “What exactly keeps it from leaving the realm?”
Finna hung her blazer in her wardrobe and walked to her bed. Her pleated skirt grazed the tops of her knees as she moved. “The senior Elementär and Empati faculty formulated a charge powered by the crystal’s core to act as a gravitational hold. If anyone tries to move the Sterkvart crystal beyond the borders of Alfheim, it snaps back to its homing spot—which the faculty coded to be the Alfheim Tree.”
“Right.” Viggo crossed his arms. I tried not to notice the way his biceps flexed with the movement. “So even if we fail to find it, if we can somehow get whoever’s holding it to the edge of the border, it will return to the tree.”
“Yes. Why? Do you know who has it?” Jande sat on the edge of Finna’s bed.
“Maybe.” I hurriedly filled my friends in on the developments with my dad, my uncle, and the Huldra who was out to suck my soul. I left out the parts about Viggo wanting to rescue his friend, and our not-so-mythological mate marks. We could cover those burning topics later . . . or never.