by Angel Lawson
I’ve got no one to blame but myself.
15
Miya
Since Victorine arrived and removed our instructional duties, I’ve been at a loss of what to do. There’s no way she’d allow us near the students in an educational manner. What if we revealed the truth about who she is and her damaging effects across realms? How her soldiers are treated like pawns? No chance.
She won’t put us in the challenges—the risk of students seeing our individual and combined strength is too high, it may motivate them to align with us.
So we flounder, which may be the smartest move she can make. Keeping us listless and bored. Watching the royal spawn get their asses kicked over and over.
There’s one area of the Academy she isn’t watching.
The dungeons.
And that’s where I spend my time.
“Here,” I say, pushing a loaf of bread and cured meat through the bars. There are two students inside. Females. There’s a witch with long braids and a black eye. A demon with beady eyes and sharp nails, from a lower realm. Neither particularly skilled, which is why Victorine chose them. “Keep up your strength.”
One looks up at me with imploring eyes. “Why is she doing this?”
“Because she can.”
It’s not much more complicated than that.
I bend down so that I’m at their eye level. “Protect your brain more than your body. That’s what she’s attacking. Her powers lie in deceit and manipulation.” I point to the food. “Nourish your brain. You need to stay sharp.”
The demon grabs the bread and meat, taking small bites. The witch does the same.
“Keep fighting, and honestly, keep losing. The winners have it worse.”
I hear footsteps echoing off the stone walls and give the girls a nod before vanishing in the dark. I find the long tunnel that connects back to the school, and when I’m sure I’m not being followed, I open the door and step into the quiet hallway.
The vibe in the school is strange. The stronger students with more powerful skills enjoy the trials. It brings out their competitive nature. The weak? The ones that need to hone their abilities? Their fear wafts down the hallway like a bad smell. There’s no doubt how Victorine finds the candidates for the challenges. She can smell them.
Speaking of scents…I turn the corner and catch something familiar in the air. I slow my pace, as my heartrate increases. My palms sweat and the hair on the back of my neck rises. Ever since I helped Hildi with the vampire bite, since we’d had sex, my body reacts instantly when she’s nearby. It’s like a craving of my own, a deep burning desire. I haven’t felt something like this in ages. It has to be from the venom.
It has to.
Otherwise all my time spent shoring up my body and mind, developing my willpower, controlling my urges. It’s been shattered by one woman.
I pause before an open doorway. A storage closet. I peek inside and see carts with cleaning supplies and a room full of female workers. In the back, tugging off a black shirt, is the Valkyrie. Our eyes meet and she lifts a hand, fingers wrapped in bandages, asking me to wait.
I step back outside and lean against the wall, waiting for her to emerge. When she does, she doesn’t give me a chance to speak.
“I’ve had a long, shitty day, and I really, really need to get the hell out of here and get a drink.”
“That’s what you want?” I ask, formulating a plan.
“That’s what I need.”
“Believe it or not, I can make that happen.”
16
Hildi
Miya instructs me to meet him on the main hall--the one with banners and thick, woven tapestries that depict a hundred different bloody deaths--after I shower and change.
I wonder if he smelled the toilet bowl cleaner on me or if I just looked like hell.
The shower is a good call. I feel better when I emerge, and even more so once I get on my own clothes.
“Want to come?” I ask Elizabeth. She’s sitting on her bed, hunched over a massive book.
“Nah. I found this book on shape shifting in the library. Thought maybe I’d see if I could tap into some latent magic and give it a shot.”
“Seriously? You think you can do that?”
She shrugs. “My family line is very powerful, Hildi. I doubt I’ve even grazed the limits of what I can do. The Academy, in theory, should have taught me how to master these skills. Unfortunately, we landed here while the gods are playing games.” She sighs. “I’ll have to figure it out myself.”
With one last look in the mirror, feeling confident in my loose gray shirt and tight, black leggings, I head toward the main hall. Students walk past me, all taking a second look. There’s no doubt it’s from my maid work that day. I’ve been taken down a notch. I’m no longer the new girl, the bad ass Valkyrie. I’m the help.
Victorine knows what she’s doing.
I slip down the hall, away from where the students pile into the dining hall. I’m definitely not showing my face in there tonight. I spot Miya by a statue, then behind him, Agis, Armin, and Rupert.
“We’re all going?” I ask, taking in the Immortals. They’re all clean and in more casual clothing than normal. Upperworld clothes. Low hanging jeans and tight T-shirts. They look like they rummaged through the Raven Guard’s closets.
I approve.
And from the way their eyes drink me in? I think they approve of what they see as well.
“You’re not the only one that could use a night away from this place,” Agis says.
“I’m not sure this counts as a night away,” Miya says, looking around to make sure we’re alone, “but it’s the best we can do.”
We’re standing in front of a tapestry, the scene depicted like many of the others. A battle plays out; there are bloody spears and winged demons. Sharp teeth and decapitated heads. Tucked in the back is a small building—made of stone—with a light in the window.
Miya reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small pouch. He unties it and dips two fingers in, coating them in a shimmery powder. He approaches Armin and makes a cross on his forehead. The powder glows for a second, then vanishes. He does the same for each of us, me last. When his fingers drag across my skin, I feel a tingling warmth. I’m not sure if it’s from the powder or from feeling his skin against mine.
“Ready?” he asks. Everyone agrees, despite having no idea where we are going.
Some risks are worth the reward.
“Focus on the tavern,” he says, pointing to the little building behind the battle. It seems insane, but I know Bunny creates similar works. His artwork connects one world to the other. This tapestry must have been created by a similar artist.
Miya goes first, walking straight into the wall. Instead of stopping, he simply vanishes.
I exhale a breath and watch Rupert follow. Armin holds out his arm, gesturing for me to go first. With my eye on the tavern I take a step forward. As I move so does my environment; I sense the Academy hallway fading, and the light flickers in the window. Another step and the wall blurs, stretching and opening just enough for me to step through. It’s seamless, one foot is in the Academy, the other across realms. I blink, and my ears fill with the noise of a public space, the clank of metal and glass. The scent of mead.
I turn back and see Agis and Armin right behind me. Rupert and Miya stand at the bar.
I say the only thing I can think of. “Someone please get me a drink.”
The tavern is cozy with a roaring fire in the big stone fire pit in the middle of the room. Music plays from some undetermined source. Piped in, or magic. I don’t know. I don’t care. Chairs padded with animal fur circle the pit and I take my drink from the bartender and find a soft place to sit.
“Where are the other patrons?” I ask, running my hand down the soft bear coat. I don’t recognize any of the faces in the bar.
“This place simply a stop from one realm to the other,” Miya says. “We just happened to hit it during a lull.”
/> “And the bartender?” Agis asks, holding a mug of mead. “What’s his story?”
The man stands behind the bar, cleaning glasses.
“Assigned here by whoever controls these places.”
“I’m thankful no one is here but us,” I say, easing my boots off my feet, and then propping them on the edge of the pit. The burning heat feels good. “Today was a shitty day.”
The guys glance at one another.
“We heard,” Armin says.
“From who?”
The guilty look on their faces says it all. Marshal. I wonder if he told them about kissing my fingers. “You gossip like a bunch of women.”
“Victorine is out of line coming after you like that,” Agis growls.
“Is she?” I ask, taking a sip of the warm drink. It burns my throat on the way down. “She’s here to win and taking me down a notch isn’t a bad idea. I have something she wants. And I’m refusing to give it to her.”
Agis frowns and tips back his mug. Rupert watches me carefully.
“What?” I ask.
“How long do you plan on playing her game? Because she doesn’t tire.”
“As long as it takes. Which is why,” I say, knocking back the rest of my drink, “I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.”
“We just pretend she’s not coming after you?” Armin says.
“For tonight, yes.”
Miya’s eyebrow raises. “Then what do you want to do?”
I stand and walk to the bar, pushing my cup to the bartender. “What all people do when they want to escape their problems. Drink, dance, and have a good time.”
17
Rupert
When Hildi said she wanted to dance, I didn’t really believe it. Dance? That’s a celebration, or at least how I was raised. We danced for the summer solstice or fall harvest. We danced in the palace halls when dignitaries came to visit. We didn’t dance for the hell of it, or to simply forget, which is exactly what Hildi seems to be doing.
I watch from by the firepit as she charms the bartender to increase the volume of the music. Her body twisting, thrusting, bouncing to the beat. I think about the kiss we shared, how I’d been too excited. Embarrassing myself.
I feel the heat in my groin, knowing I’ll get hard again just watching her.
“Dance with me,” she says, bending over the back of Armin’s chair. Her lips graze his ear.
“I don’t, uh, dance,” he replies, looking particularly uneasy.
She glances at Agis, who shakes his head and focuses on his mug.
Her eyes shift to me and my skin prickles from the attention. “Come on, Princeling, don’t tell me you can’t dance.”
“I can dance,” I admit, “but it’s the formal kind, stuffy, and not like what you’re doing.”
“How so?”
“Well, lessons were required,” I explain, “of all royals, because of state dinners and such. We were often paired with cousins or people my father wanted to impress. But there was little to no touching, and often we were in a group.”
“Show us,” she declares, eyes wicked with drink. Her hand clasps with mine, yanking me from my seat, and she goes back for the others. A moment later, the five of us are in a cleared spot on the floor and she’s watching me intently. The others shoot daggers in my direction. Where the hell is Marshal when I need him?
“Do we have to?” Agis asks.
“Yes,” Hildi declares. “Stop being a grump.”
Miya barks a laugh, and Agis glares. Hildi is as likely to push them into a fight as she is to get them to dance. I can tell it means a lot to her, so I take a deep breath and lift my hand.
“Basically, you dip like this,” I say, showing them the steps, “and then move in a circle.”
I nudge Armin to get him going in the right direction. Agis reluctantly falls in stride, his moves more graceful then he’d ever admit. He’s an elite warrior, timing is everything.
“This is epic,” Hildi laughs, delighted by the whole thing. That sound, plus her smile, is enough to lighten the mood. “I wish I could record this and show Morgan.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Miya says. His robe drags on the floor. His movements are precise, but again, not a surprise. Sword-work is a dance of its own. The men fall into the movements easily. It’s not a leap that they already know what to do. They’re not barbarians, even though they may act like it sometimes.
“I’m impressed,” she says, twirling in between us. Her hands linger longer than necessary, her body hovering too close. The music grows louder. Rhythmic and intoxicating. I tug at my collar feeling warm, and Agis and Miya head to the bar and order more drinks, before heading back to the soft couches surrounding the fire.
We leave the dance floor and settle around the fire. Hildi sits on the edge of the pit, the flames casting a glow around her making her look ethereal.
“This place reminds me of home,” she says suddenly. “After a battle and the slain are chosen and carried to Valhalla, Odin would give us a moment of reprieve. We’d drink, dance, and forget the horrors of the battlefield.”
She looks down in her cup wistfully, I can’t help but look at her bandage wrapped fingers.
“Odin would be amused to know what happened to me today. That I fell on my knees for a brat. A vampire.” She shakes her head. “Do you even know why I’m here? Why I’m not with the Valkyrie?”
The four of us glance at one another. No. No one knows. I don’t think anyone has asked.
“It’s stupid, really. Antiquated and archaic rules. Odin, like all gods, wants to be surrounded by loyal servants. The Valkyrie are there to do his bidding.”
“You didn’t fulfill your obligation?” Armin asks.
“I did. For a long, long time.” She laughs darkly. “He sent me to the Upperword as a spy, to collect information about his enemies living there. I’d never been to the Upperworld or to a city like New York. I immediately fell in love with the sights and smells and sounds. Something about the place brought me to life. I never wanted to leave and when it was time for me to report back, I didn’t. Having my own mind, that was my first sin—the first betrayal.”
“What was your second sin?” Miya asks.
“Losing my virginity. In Odin’s eyes, that was not mine to give. It took away my uniqueness.” She wipes her eyes. “But the worst thing of all was falling in love, and not with the city. But with a woman. That was the biggest betrayal, and he cast me out.”
She tips back her drink, swallowing it at once.
Armin reaches out and takes her hand. “The gods don’t want to think of us as individuals. It’s how they maintain their control.”
“Victorine proved that today,” she mutters.
“You’re stronger than her,” Agis says. “Stronger than all of us.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not even immortal anymore. Sure, I have speed and strength. I can take a punch and land my own, but I don’t belong here, and Roland and Victorine are happy to prove it.”
“They’re scared,” Miya says.
“Of what?” She holds up her bandaged fingers. “Of my weaknesses?”
“Roland knows that you’re the link that binds us—probably not just us, this whole place. It’s why he’s fought against you this whole time.”
She looks up at me, under long damp eyelashes. “You really believe that?”
The tether between us warms, and I hate the doubt Victorine placed in her head. The doubt I probably put in her head. And the others, including fucking Marshal.
“I do.” The words come out strong. “And when Victorine comes after you again, and when she comes after the rest of us, which gods-assured she will, that bond will give you strength.”
She looks at each of us, and Agis and Miya, who look like they’re trying to process what’s happening. This woman, she’s the real key to winning this war, and we have to protect her with everything we have.
I stand, heart pounding, terrified and sure. Hildi watches me c
losely as I approach, and I hold out my hand. She takes it, and I pull her up, crashing her body against mine. Her eyes widen in surprise. I don’t blame her. Until this moment I’d been wavering. Unsure. But in this little tavern away from the noise of the school, I can feel it. Her.
I slide my hand behind her neck, pulling her mouth to mine. The fear, the dread, it all vanishes when her lips touch mine. Everything fades and the nausea in my belly subsides for the first time in weeks. Her lips are soft, her tongue bitter, tasting like the alcohol she’s been drinking. Her body is firm and strong.
I ache just holding her, but I will the desires of my body to settle down. I can’t embarrass myself again. The guys would never let me live it down and for this to work, we have to do it right.
I don’t want to, but I release her, locking eyes with Armin.
He doesn’t hesitate, closing the space between them. Their passion flickers when they look at one another. Ignites when their mouths crash together, and their hands run over each other’s bodies. They’re familiar. They’re consumed. They’re everything I want with her. The link between us rushes with pleasure, not jealousy, and it only confirms what I’ve known since the first time she kissed me.
This is right.
And what Victorine is doing to her is wrong.
And I’m going to do something about it.
18
Hildi
The room grows warm, but I don’t know if it’s the fire or my body reacting to the kisses from Rupert and Armin. Rupert may not have much experience, but his instincts are on point. The link between us only adds to the desire. Even if he’s intimidated, even if he’s scared, I know that he wants me. I can sense it.
Armin comes at me like a freight train. Hands wandering, mouth hard. His kisses make my panties wet, and if I didn’t think it would scare off the others, I’d yank his pants down right now and show him how much I need him.