Ruined King (Night Elves Trilogy Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  “A Vanir can’t rise against a crowned Empress or Emperor. That was why the coronation was important. You were able to kill the Emperor because you were not Vanir. You will be at risk around High Elves, or Night Elves. You will be at risk during the final battle of the Winnowing. You will fight the leader of the High Elves, and you must win at all costs. If you do not, Gorm could rule over us all.”

  And here was my chance to save the Night Elves. To become the North Star at last.

  All I had to do was kill Gorm.

  Chapter 45

  Galin

  A sense of loss ripped through me. It wasn’t just sadness; it was more like a deep foreboding. A painful drumming in my heart, like something terrible had happened but I hadn’t yet found out what it was.

  And then it struck me like an arrow to my heart. Ali had untethered our threads. Somehow, she must have found the Norn. Unless she’d died?

  For minutes, I lay paralyzed. I felt as if my soul had been severed from my body once again, or at least part of it. Panic nearly drove me mad as I thought she could be dead, but Ganglati kept telling me she wasn’t, that her soul was not with him.

  It took me a few minutes to master control of myself once more, to think of Ali.

  Even if she was no longer my mate, even if our threads had been ripped apart, I still had to save her. Fate or not, I loved her. And I had the wand. The power of the gods was finally in my grasp.

  I held Levateinn, ready to scribe a portal spell.

  As I did, though, I felt Ganglati’s presence floating through my mind, confusing me. Whispering in my thoughts. You must finish what you started, Galin. You must complete the sacred task.

  “Not now, Ganglati. I need to see Ali.”

  And yet he was seizing control of me. Anger rippled through me. My wand hand continued to move, but it wasn’t me tracing the runes. A portal expanded in front of me and Ganglati forced me into it. When I stepped out the other side, I found myself in Hela’s throne room.

  Fury simmered. Shades drifted around the dark stone, and votive candles flickered in ancient alcoves. Directly in front of me rested the remains of Hela herself. The body of the goddess reclined on a crumbling stone throne, a spindly crown on her head. Her dry, leathery skin was stretched tightly over her bones. One half of her face was faded blue, while the other gleamed like fresh bone. She seemed to grin at me, her lips peeled back over moldering teeth.

  I gritted my teeth, wishing that I’d thought this promise through better. This was not the time to raise gods.

  But I had seen my future—that I would be king. This was the path the Norns had woven for me. Perhaps this was a necessary step.

  I lifted Levateinn, and the silver wand simmered with powerful magic—once wielded by Hela’s father, Loki himself.

  I shivered. Around me, the temperature dropped as shades swooped in to watch. I brought down the wand, then twisted my wrist to scribe yr—the rune for life.

  A stream of silver magic unspooled from the end of Levateinn. It struck the dead goddess in the center of her chest, spreading over her like liquid metal. It didn’t drip downwards as a normal fluid would. Instead, it flowed in all directions, along her arms, under her dress. It pooled at her feet even as it slid up her neck.

  Around me, the shades whispered with growing excitement.

  Liquid silver continued to flow from the end of Levateinn, washing over the goddess now, seeming to bathe her in metal. I stared, awestruck as the magic began to work. A strange elation filled my heart at the idea that a god would be alive again.

  The movement began in her feet—the frozen muscles of the goddess’s toes unclenching. Next were her fingers, trembling on the arms of the obsidian throne. Still, it came as a surprise when her entire body moved. A giant spasm that threw her head back against the throne.

  “Yes!” screamed Ganglati, floating next to me. “My queen returns.”

  I clutched Levateinn with all my strength, staring at what was unfolding before me. The stream of silver had become a rush of power that filled the desiccated goddess with magic.

  Hela’s corpse spasmed again, and again, until she was literally thrashing on her throne. Around me, the shades were shouting, their wispy bodies twisting and churning in the air. They surrounded their queen until all I could see was the occasional shimmer of silver beneath their frantically hovering forms. Magic vibrated over the room.

  Then, suddenly, the shades went still, hanging in the air. I heard a noise that iced my heart: a deep, rattling gasp that grew louder and louder. The first breath of a goddess who’d been dead a thousand years.

  The gods are alive again.

  And yet I couldn’t linger here. I needed to get to Ali.

  Hela sucked in a second breath, and with it, the shades spun in a terrible gyre, round and round like the whorl of a fearsome tornado.

  Shivers ran up my spine at the wonder I was witnessing here, awe stilling my breath. I could see the goddess now. Her skin softened as she inhaled the shades. Then, she opened her eyes and fixed me with her dazzling gaze.

  She was beautiful in an eerie way—blue, swirling tattoos covering one half of her face, her skin pale as ice on the other side. She had delicate features, and her body glowed with a pearly light. Her dark hair fell over her robe, her body now gleaming with silvery light.

  She stared at me, beautiful and terrifying at the same time, and I wanted to fall to my knees. When she held out her hand, my mind went blank.

  “You, my king, have brought me back to life. Just as the Norns foretold. Rule with me here. Rule as king.”

  I went completely still, and I felt my heart stop for a moment. A horrible realization shattered my mind. I almost felt as though reality was crumbling around me. This was where I was supposed to rule as king? Not Midgard?

  This was the fate the Norns had woven for me?

  My fists tightened, and I shook my head. How could I defy a goddess? And yet I must.

  Even as the darkness closed in around me, I knew I could not stay. Ali wasn’t here. I had to make sure she was okay. I had to travel to Vanaheim and find her.

  Before the goddess could stop me, I scribed the necessary runes, and a portal opened. I dove through it.

  I fell hard onto the grasses of Vanaheim as the portal snapped shut behind me.

  Chapter 46

  Ali

  One by one, my new Vanir warriors slipped through the portal. They were armed with sabers—a proper show of force for their new Empress.

  The magic crackled as I stepped through, the last to arrive, and I found myself on the icy stone steps of the Citadel’s amphitheater. Dark magic covered the Well of Wyrd, and the seating had been divided into two sections. One for the Vanir, one for the High Elves. The two tribes crowded onto the stone steps, waiting for the final battle.

  The Night Elves were likely back in the caverns already, waiting for death. I wouldn’t let it happen.

  This had to work, or we’d be destroyed.

  I surveyed the scene. Directly across from the Vanir section was the royal dais, perched just on the edge of the black lid of the well. In the center, Revna stood dressed in an emerald gown.

  So, she’d survived. Disappointing.

  And for some bizarre reason, she was wearing Gorm’s crown.

  I kept to the shadows, out of view, hiding behind the Vanir. I’d have the element of surprise on my side.

  But what the fuck had happened to Gorm? I caught the Regent’s attention, then nodded at Revna.

  He nodded, understanding my meaning. “Where is King Gorm?” he shouted.

  Revna adjusted her crown. “King Gorm has been murdered. As his only surviving child, I am now Queen of the High Elves. I shall defeat the Vanir. Once I do so, my first act as queen will be total extermination of the Night Elves.”

  Icy rage flickered through me. I will rip your fucking head off.

  Where in Hel was Galin, though?

  It was time to set my plan in motion. I nodded at the Regent
, and he stepped forward. “We propose a battle of champions—a duel would be best. The winner becomes the leader of all the elves.”

  “Fine,” Revna replied primly. “As is the ancient custom of the High Elves, I will be choosing a champion.”

  Disappointing. I’d hoped to kill her myself.

  She smiled serenely, then held out her hand. The ground shook as a giant of an elf crossed onto the top of the stairs of the arena. He genuinely looked part giant—a wall of muscle, gripping a sword that was as large as I was. He had to be eight feet tall at least, his head disturbingly misshapen.

  “You may choose your champion,” she simpered.

  “Oh, no,” said the Regent. “Our Empress has said that she wishes to defend the realm herself.”

  I stepped out from behind my men, standing next to the Regent.

  Revna sputtered. “You?”

  “None other.” I grinned. “Seems like we’ve both been promoted in the last twelve hours.”

  The crowd began murmuring, the High Elves clearly scandalized.

  But where the fuck was Galin? If Gorm was dead, he should be king now, not his sister. Then this would all be over.

  Gripping Skalei, I crossed out into the arena. The giant was huge, but all it would take was one well-aimed toss to his aorta. One throw, and my nightmare would finally be over.

  Already, he was running for me, his sword carving through the air. He growled as I dodged him. Once. Twice. I’d stay out of his reach, dancing over the cold stone until the time was just right to throw Skalei.

  I kept my eye trained on his neck, exactly where I needed to throw it, and let loose. The blade arced out of my hand, glinting in the light of the moon. But just at that moment, he swung for me, and the blade caught him in the collarbone, not where I needed it.

  He screamed anyway, charging for me.

  “Skalei.”

  With the blade in my hand again, I leapt into the air over his sword, driving Skalei at his chest. This was what I’d trained for all my life.

  This time, Skalei met her mark perfectly, and the giant stopped, stunned. He staggered back, the ground shaking. Skalei protruded from his chest, and although he pulled her out, blood was now pouring from him. He stumbled, and I knew that the Night Elves would not die. I’d won.

  With the High Elves vanquished, they would be under my control. I would lead them, the Vanir, and the Night Elves alike. All three tribes under my control. I’d create a glorious kingdom for us all.

  Pure elation bubbled through me.

  I just needed the coup de grace, and it would all be over.

  “Skalei.” With the hilt in my hand, I slammed her into his skull, and he dropped to the ground dead.

  I felt myself beaming with victory. I’d done it. I’d fucking done it. With me as ruler, the Night Elves would be free. Elation pulsed through my body.

  “No!” Revna screamed, ripping me out of my victory haze. “She cannot win. She’s in league with Galin. She helped the king-slayer!”

  I tore my eyes away from my opponent as he lay dying. Fury ignited in my body. Should I just kill her now?

  Then, I felt the electrical rush of magic, and my gaze flicked to my right. A black portal was opening, not far from me.

  Galin. His golden form was coming through. This felt like a miscalculation, somehow. He was in danger here, and I wanted to keep him safe.

  “She killed the king!” Revna was ranting, completely out of her mind. “My spies told me!”

  The crowd was roaring. And when I looked back at Revna, my heart skipped a beat. A fresh wave of dread crashed into me.

  She held a crossbow aimed directly at me, ready to shoot.

  “Skalei.” I felt the blade in my hand again.

  But the bolt was already on its way.

  The world fell silent as Galin charged in front of me, taking the hit for me. The arrow slammed into his neck, tearing it open.

  It was as if I was in a void, and everything was happening too fast for me to put my own thoughts into words. I knew I was screaming, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Rage and pain ripped my mind apart, and I threw Skalei with all my strength.

  The blade landed in Revna’s forehead, and she slumped to the ground, blood pouring from her skull.

  I looked down at Galin. Desperately I hoped he was only wounded, but his gaze was already lost in another realm. I fell to my knees. Blood gushed from the wound as I cradled him in my arms. Tears filled my eyes, the loss like shards of glass in my heart.

  I was dimly aware of the Vanir rejoicing in our victory, not giving a shit about Galin. But my focus was on him. His golden eyes were unfocused now, his breath labored. He seemed like he was already far away, drifting into Valhalla, the glorious afterworld for those who died in battle.

  The soul bond might be severed, but what I felt now was real. I had no question of that anymore. I pulled him up close, wishing desperately that I knew the magic he did. I’d be able to fix his ravaged throat. But all I knew was how to use a fucking knife.

  The world dimmed around me, the roars of the crowd fading. His lifeblood was pumping out, his breath slowing. Panic screamed in my mind.

  There was only him and me.

  And … Loki’s wand on the stone by his side.

  Loki’s wand that could open worlds, raise the dead. Loki’s wand, which I didn’t know how to use—yet.

  His eyes were going dim. A wand like that could bring someone alive again.

  Before anyone could see what lay in front of me, I snatched up the wand and slid it up my sleeve. Then, I cradled Galin in my arms once more. I would find a way to bring him back.

  But as I held him close, his body started to shimmer away, then simply disappeared into the shadows.

  I stared at my empty arms, feeling like someone had torn my heart out.

  I didn’t know where he was, but I’d never seen a body disappear like that. Some strange magic was at work.

  There it was again, that little spark of hope. That fleck of light in the darkness. Perhaps he’d managed to escape death again, like he always did.

  And if so, Loki’s wand would help me find him.

  Chapter 47

  Galin

  I’d always assumed that when my time came, I would accept it, allow fate to follow its course. But as I looked into Ali’s eyes, I knew I had to fight it.

  I was supposed to be King of the High Elves. I was supposed to be the one to usher in a new era, a golden age where the High Elves ruled with justice and morality.

  Instead, I’d been shot in the neck by my own sister, and I found myself drifting in the astral plane. Death in battle meant Valhalla. I wondered what that might be like now, after Ragnarok.

  But maybe it wasn’t Valhalla I needed.

  What if I could live? Hela had said I would rule as king.

  I had one last deal to strike, and as I let myself drift through the astral plane, I summoned the shade.

  Ganglati’s voice rose in my mind. Hela wants you by her side. She believes you will reign as king of Helheim.

  “Tell her I will accept her deal.” For now. “But I stay alive. I keep my body, my beating heart. I keep my memories and my soul.”

  But Ali was my true fate. And even if I could feel that she’d managed to sever our entwined threads—even if we were no longer mates—Ali was the beginning and the end for me. Soul bond or not, I loved her. Not Hela.

  What was the price, I wondered, for betraying a goddess?

  I snapped back into my body. Warm blood filled my mouth, and my thoughts drifted back to another time, when the gods had been alive and the verdant lands had spread out around us. I felt myself flickering between life and death.

  For one moment, swords clashed around me, mountains rose into the mist, and thunder rolled over the horizon. The great mead hall of Valhalla rose above me, the place I’d always yearned to see, with a ceiling made of shields and the scent of roasted boar floating through the air. The final resting place of the Sword of the Gods
; a realm that called to my soul. And I could stay there, forever, in the magnificent battle of the dead.

  But that wasn’t what I truly wanted. Not yet. I wanted Ali.

  And that meant striking a deal. So, I was on my way to Helheim once more—the afterlife for those who died ingloriously. I would sit on an obsidian throne, with a black crown on my head, surrounded by gloom and shades. But I would keep my beating heart. And I would find my way to Ali again.

  My soul drifted on psychic winds in a stygian darkness. It snapped back into my body, now fully healed. Frowning, I touched my throat where the arrow had ripped it open. Not even a scar to mar my skin.

  A floor of gray stone spread out beneath me, and violet candlelight cast dancing shadows back and forth over the room.

  My eyes flicked up, and there, I saw her reclining on her throne—Hela. Resplendent in all her glory, she shone with divine light. When she saw me, she tilted her head back and smiled. Her smile was stunning and terrifying at the same time, and I felt her dark power slide down to my very bones. Her magic rumbled over the room like thunder, eyes gleaming black as onyx. My breath left my lungs.

  A living goddess before me.

  I fell to my knees. “I hail the goddess of the harrowing, Lady of Death, daughter of Loki. Wielder of famine and disease, mistress of death in beds of straw. Thank you for accepting me as a living liege in your court of death.”

  “Rise, Sword of the Gods.” Her deep voice echoed off the walls. “You have brought me back to life. For this, you will rule with me as king.”

  I stood, momentarily awed by her as I looked into her impenetrably black eyes.

  Already, though, I was thinking of how I could get back to Ali.

  Perhaps this was what Wyrd had written for me, and this was the kingdom where I was meant to rule. But I would fight this fate with all my strength.

  I was going to forge a new fate. And once that was done, I was going to do whatever it took to win back my mate.