Ruined King (Night Elves Trilogy Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  I whirled, searching. After a few moments, I found the one I was looking for, hovering a few floors above me. I glided up.

  Revna’s soul floated in the center of her room. I imagined her future assassination. A quick knife to the heart, so that I might secure the realm. Normally, at that gruesome thought alone, the helm would have sprung to life and zapped me.

  I flicked back to check the status of my body. It remained on the floor, the helm completely quiet.

  I slipped back inside my body. Even as I opened my eyes, I was thinking about what this meant. The helm was clearly attached only to my corporeal body—my physical form. My soul could do whatever it wanted.

  I smiled slowly. Perhaps I could collect my rat, Gormie, from the dungeons, pop his soul into my body, then take over his furry form. I’d have free range of Midgard. I didn’t particularly want to be in the body of a rat, though. It didn’t seem fitting for a prince, and I didn’t think Ali would like it much either.

  What other options did I have? I could become a lich again. Killing myself would almost certainly break the connection between the helm and my body. But as a lich, I’d forgotten the gods entirely, forgotten my life. I didn’t want to forget again.

  There was, it occurred to me, one other option. As I thought of it, I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing my face in my hands. It was nearly as bad as becoming a lich. Possibly worse.

  But as I mulled over the possibilities, it was the only one that seemed likely to work.

  .

  Chapter 20

  Galin

  Carefully, I arranged the black candles in a small circle in the center of the room. Back in my lair in Cambridge, I’d had a whole box of them, but here in the Citadel, there were none. Instead, I’d jerry-rigged some table candles I’d stolen from the dining room and coated them with soot from the fireplace. Hopefully, that would work.

  After the candles were placed into their positions, I sat in the center of the circle and propped a grimoire in front of me. With one hand, I flipped to the page of the summoning spell. With the other, I picked up a small iron dagger.

  I drew a deep breath to center myself. I needed to cut my skin. This was the crucial step, but I didn’t know if I could do it. I could easily withstand the pain, but the Helm of Awe might stop me from hurting myself as a member of the royal family.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Quickly, I drew the blade of the dagger across my palm.

  I gritted my teeth, waiting for a magical blast from the crown, but none came. Apparently hurting oneself was allowed.

  Blood dripped between my fingers. Carefully, I began adding a few drops to the wick of each candle. Summoning magic still required a blot—an offering to the gods. Even when they were dead.

  Once each candle had been fed with my blood, I said, “Kaun,” and lit them. As they guttered with bloody wax, I turned to the grimoire and began to incant the spell.

  The flames slowly stilled, and the runes on my chest burned with light. When I spoke the last word of the spell, the candles blazed up around me, blinding me.

  I blinked until my eyes adjusted.

  Now, the candles surrounded me tightly, glowing like the eyes of wild animals. Beyond the ring, I could see nothing. My bed, my desk, my window had all been replaced by a stygian darkness. A black mist swirled around me like the ink of a giant squid.

  The spell had worked. I remained seated as the candles continued to burn. At this point, I just had to wait.

  Suddenly, the candles blazed brighter, now taking on a purplish hue. The temperature dropped, and my breath misted.

  Slowly, a form appeared in the mist. A dark shape that hovered at the edges of my vision. Frost spread across the iron blade in my hand like icy spider webs. Slowly, the creature inched closer, pale eyes glowing in the darkness.

  “Galin.” The shade spat my name like an insult. “Why have you summoned me?”

  “I am here to make amends.”

  “Amends? From you? You promised that you’d raise our queen from the dead. Yet she still rots on her throne.” The shade’s eyes flashed, and it hissed, “I see your soul enjoys the warmth of a living body, you dishonorable bastard.”

  “That’s not entirely true.”

  “It’s not? You dare suggest that I cannot see your golden hair or hear your beating heart? When we spoke last, you were dead—a lich—but now you are alive. You found the wand and used it to save yourself, but you did not honor your oath.”

  “I am here to do that now.”

  “And that is why you’ve confined yourself within a circle of power? I can smell the iron in the flames of your candles.” The shade inched closer, its voice icy. “Blow out the tapers so we can become properly reacquainted.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then I have nothing to say to you.” The shade’s body began to fade, slipping back into the swirling mist.

  “Ganglati, wait.”

  The shade paused, his pale eyes fixing on me once again. “What did you call me?”

  “Ganglati.”

  “I haven’t heard that name in a thousand years.”

  “But that is who you are, isn’t it? Ganglati, the lazy walker, chief manservant of Hela, Queen of the Dead?”

  “My queen is dead. I serve no one.”

  “I am here to make you an offer.”

  “No. You fulfill your oath first.”

  Negotiating with the shade was proving more difficult than I’d imagined. “That is my desire, but in order to fulfill my oath, I need your help.” I pointed at the Helm of Awe. “Levateinn was stolen from me. The one who took it bound this infernal crown to my head. If I move against him, its magic scalds my brain.”

  The shade didn’t seem convinced. “I thought you were a powerful sorcerer.”

  “This magic, I cannot break—at least not with the tools currently at my disposal. The helm imprisoned me, but if I were free of it, then it would be a simple thing for me to steal back the wand. If you take over my body, then for a short time at least, the helm could be broken. Temporarily deactivated, with you in control. Then we can do what we must. And once I have Levateinn, I can return to your lands and revive your goddess.”

  Ganglati hovered just in front of the encircling candles. His eyes glowed bright in his shadowy form. “You will honor your oath, then?”

  “Will you help me?”

  The shade studied me, eyes shining in the darkness. “What do you propose?”

  “Join forces with me. Help me steal the wand.”

  Ganglati laughed icily. “Impossible. I am dead. You’ve seen the iron wall that confines me to Hel.” His eyes flashed. “Stop wasting my time. What you suggest is impossible.”

  “It’s not impossible. Didn’t you just say that I am a powerful sorcerer?”

  I licked the tip of my thumb and index finger, then extinguished the candle nearest to me. Frigid black mist began to rush into the circle of candles.

  The shade’s eyes glowed brighter, like stars in the darkness.

  I held his gaze as I spoke. “You see, the helm is bound to my body. Not to my soul. Step inside the circle and join me within this living body.” I touched my chest. “Together, we can defeat the helm and retrieve Levateinn. Then, I will raise your queen.”

  Chapter 21

  Ali

  In the Citadel courtyard, a High Elf servant beckoned Thyra and me with a long finger. “Follow me. I will show you the way to your rooms.”

  As we followed him into the Citadel, Thyra spoke quietly. “Ali, can I put you in charge of collecting the—” She leaned close, whispering.

  “Yes, of course. Is it okay if I have Bo assist me? The stunning spell has worn off.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “I’ll start tomorrow.”

  The halls of the Citadel were dark, but the guard held a lantern, and it cast warm light over rough marble walls.

  “Thyra,” I whispered. “You know about magic, right?”

  “S
ome …” She replied noncommittally.

  “What do you know about the Norns?” I asked.

  She raised an eyebrow. “The Norns? Not very much. They cast our souls and weave our fates with the threads of Wyrd. They are said to live among the roots of Yggdrasill. But as far as I know, no elf has ever seen one.”

  We continued through the dark halls, the rough stone dimly lit with flickering torches. It looked like a medieval castle in here, built of rough stone and low arches.

  “Do you think the Norns died in Ragnarok?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

  Thyra shrugged. “Maybe. I couldn’t say. But without them, fate would no longer exist. So probably not.”

  I took a deep breath. Everything hinged on what I had to say next. “Hypothetically, if they were still alive, do you think someone could change the fate the Norns wove for them?”

  Thyra gave me a long look. “Why the sudden interest in the Norns?”

  “I was just curious.”

  “I doubt it. Like I said, no one has ever seen one—”

  “Miss,” the servant interrupted. “This is your room.” He was looking directly at me, gesturing for me to enter.

  As the servant unlocked the door, I turned again to Thyra. “Will you be alright on your own? I can accompany you to your quarters.”

  “I’ll be fine,” said Thyra. “Gorm wouldn’t dare hurt me. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Good to know. “Well, don’t hesitate to stop by if you need anything.”

  As Thyra and the guard disappeared down the hallway, I pushed open the door to my room.

  It was larger than I expected. It wasn’t just a room, but an entire suite. I stood in a central living room with an oak table and sofas, but I could see a bedroom on one side and a private bathroom on the other. The walls were made of white stone, and an ornate carpet was spread out over the floor. Multi-paned windows overlooked the frozen city.

  I poked my head into the bathroom. There was a sink, a tall mirror, and a clawfoot tub in the center. Finally, I crossed to the bedroom. I found a bed draped with red velvet curtains, and the same sleek stone walls. A tapestry depicting the goddess Freyja with long golden hair hung above a small hearth.

  I also found that someone had delivered my things. Not that I’d brought very much, just a few changes of clothes and my gear, including my crossbow and collection of magical bolts. Everything was neatly arranged on a mahogany dresser.

  I didn’t think I’d held my crossbow since I’d first tried to steal Galin’s ring. Picking it up, I checked the tautness of the string. Then, I inspected the bolts. Everything seemed to be as I remembered: anti-hex bolts, smoke bolts, and of course, a small quiver of eitr bolts.

  I held up one of the eitr bolts, careful not to touch the tip. Eitr bolts were exceptionally lethal. In fact, one eitr bolt contained enough venom to kill five hundred elves. Even a grazing of the skin was enough to induce a permanent coma.

  Putting the bolts down, I kicked off my shoes.

  Thyra hadn’t known anything about the Norns. And I’d been to the bottom of the Well of Wyrd myself. There hadn’t been any old hags weaving fates or casting souls among Yggdrasill’s roots. Just a pile of bones and a massive bloodthirsty squirrel. Was any of it real—my destiny?

  I peeled off the rest of my clothes, then dropped onto my bed, hoping for sleep. But whenever I closed my eyes, Galin’s face rose in my mind—his sensual mouth, his masculine jaw, his eyes the palest gold. His sly smile as he looked at me—the arrogance of someone who believed he’d one day be king.

  I needed to get him out of my head.

  Rising, I stalked to the bathroom, then stripped out of my bra and underwear and started filling the bath. When the tub was full and steaming, I slipped in, groaning softly as the hot water enveloped me.

  I closed my eyes, allowing the heat to loosen my muscles. This was exactly what I’d needed. In the Shadow Caverns, we didn’t have luxuries like tubs or showers. If we wanted to bathe, we had to boil water in buckets.

  Picking up a purple bar of soap from the foot of the tub, I began to scrub at the dirt on my arms, tracing from my shoulders to my wrists. Lavender, I decided, was my new favorite scent.

  I spread lather onto my shoulders, cleaning my neck and behind my ears. Soapy rivulets trickled between my breasts. I slipped back into the water, up to my neck, and rubbed at my chest to get the grime off.

  I never want to leave this tub.

  Once again, Galin’s stupidly beautiful face rose in the hollows of my mind, and my pulse started to race. I would absolutely not think about how his body looked, about his golden skin stretched over taut muscles. And I would not imagine that subtle curve of his lips, or his cheekbones carved by the gods.

  It wasn’t my fault. How many years had it been since I’d been with a man? Two, three? The last time had been a drunk fling with a Night Elf named Sven. He was cute, but it had lasted a few minutes max.

  I floated in the deliciously warm tub, the water lapping at my breasts. As I closed my eyes, I started to drift into a dream—one where Galin was in the tub with me, our bodies intertwined, sliding against each other. A low, appreciative growl escaped his throat, the sound trembling over my naked skin. My breath sped up, and I pressed against his body, reveling in the feel of pure steel under the soft skin. Warmth swooped into my belly, and I melted against him.

  It was only Galin and me, our mouths open, tongues brushing, his hands caressing my ass, strong arms wrapped around me …

  My eyes snapped open, and I found that my hand was starting to slide between my thighs.

  I leapt up. Nope. Nope. Not happening.

  Fucking Wyrd.

  I jumped out of the tub, dripping wet. Nearly slipping on the bathroom tiles, I spun, Skalei suddenly tight in my fist … but I had no idea what I was trying to attack. My own traitorous thoughts? Obviously, the tub was empty, because I was alone.

  Naked and shivering, I thrashed around the bathroom, unclear on who I was angry at. Galin? The Norns? Myself for no longer having a purpose in my life?

  And where the fuck was a bath towel?

  At last, I found one folded neatly beneath the sink and wrapped it around me.

  Then, I flung open the door just in time to see a portal expand. Magic crackled, and before I could move, the real Galin stepped casually into my room.

  Chapter 22

  Galin

  Water dripped from her silver hair, along her shoulders, down the curves of her breasts peeking above the towel. She looked like a nymph fresh from a deep forest pool. For an instant, I imagined what her legs might look like wrapped around my hips, like they had been on the battlefield.

  I smelled lavender—and something more. A feral scent I couldn’t place. My body stiffened.

  With effort, I pulled my eyes away from Ali so I could concentrate. I looked to the window. “Sorry for the intrusion, but we need to talk.’

  “You could have knocked,” she shot back, “and come in the door like a normal person.”

  “That would have been a bad idea, obviously. I’ll leave after we talk.”

  “Fine. Give me a minute.” She stalked past me, toward the bedroom.

  While she dressed, I crossed to a small mahogany table of tumblers and liquor and poured myself a whiskey. I let the smoky flavor roll over my tongue, wishing I could be alone in this room with Ali under very different circumstances.

  When she returned, she was dressed in her usual black leather. She looked exhausted. “What do you need?”

  “Your help stealing back Loki’s wand.”

  “Again? We already did that.”

  “Levateinn is exceptionally powerful. We could use it to defeat an army. I could simply turn the High Elf troops into a school of fish. They’d slowly suffocate, no fighting necessary. Alternatively, I could temporarily transform the Night Elves into lions, and you could eat your foes alive.”

  She crossed her arms. “That is … disturbing and enticing at the same time.
” She still seemed wary of me, but at least she was letting me speak.

  Before I could reply, a loud knocking at the door interrupted us.

  “Ali?” A woman’s voice pierced the wood. “Can we talk?”

  “Shit. I think it’s Thyra. You need to leave.”

  Already, a key jingled in the lock. I didn’t have time to scribe a portal. Instead, I slipped into the bedroom, mere seconds before the door opened. I left the door open a crack so I could listen.

  “What do you want?” I heard Ali say. “I was just going to bed.”

  She’s a feisty one, I’ll give you that, whispered a deep voice in my head.

  Shut up, Ganglati.

  She has a fine figure, continued the shade. Have you enjoyed her body yet?

  From the other room, Ali’s voice rose. “No, you can’t come in here.”

  I heard the faint tinge of fear in her voice, and my muscles tensed. I peered through the gap in the door, expecting to catch a glimpse of Thyra.

  But it was an elf in a black cloak, a cowl shadowing her face. With a blade in her hand, she lunged toward Ali. My heart skipped a beat.

  Ali dove out of the way of the dagger. As she did, she kicked upwards, knocking the dagger from the assassin’s hand. It flew across the room and skittered under a chair. The assassin swiveled and kicked Ali back.

  I tried to pull the door open to get to Ali, but the shade was taking over, controlling my body.

  What are you doing? I screamed mentally.

  The Night Elf might die. I haven’t seen the transition from life to death in so long. How I’ve yearned for it.

  The assassin held Ali by the throat, crushing her ability to call for Skalei, and I was immobilized, terror screaming in my mind. My legs were locked in place, muscles frozen.

  Horror washed over me as I realized my mate was about to be murdered, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.