by E. Latimer
I tensed, on the verge of launching myself at her.
Erik slid his hand onto my other shoulder so that his arm circled around me, holding me back.
"The prophecy is complete. Throw him in the dungeons. He'll be executed at dawn."
Oh God.
Erik's arm tightened, pressing me against his chest, holding me up. He moved sideways, practically carrying me as the guards dragged Loki past.
The queen strode past her throne, white-lipped with fury, heading for the door. Servants scurried to follow her.
"Come on," Erik murmured in my ear. “Let's get you back to your room."
Chapter Forty-Five
I tried to tell him on the way back. Guilt made it spill out. Guilt that I hadn't stood up for Loki, even though it would have gotten me killed too.
"He wasn't going to kill me." Tears ran down my cheeks, but I didn't bother wiping them away. "He just wanted me to run away with him. He...likes me."
Even to my own ears it sounded childish, like some naive teenager defending her loser boyfriend to her father. I expected Erik to be angry, but instead, he just looked down at me sadly. "Amora, he’s lying. He was supposed to kill you, right? You told me so yourself."
"That was before." I knew that it sounded pathetic when I said it, like I couldn't accept the truth.
Erik sighed and ran one hand through his blond hair, making it stick up. "I'm sorry to say this, but Loki is known for being a trickster. He's an excellent liar and a skilled battle tactician. He's all about fooling the enemy."
My voice came out in a sob. "He doesn't think I'm the enemy!"
We reached the door, and Erik paused. The look he gave me was full of pity, like I was a foolish, impulsive little girl. My hands curled into fists, and for a split second, I felt like hitting him. After all, he was the one who'd burst in and caught Loki in the first place.
I scowled. "I know what you're thinking, and it's not true. I'm not naïve or stupid. I just don't know who to trust. That's always how it's been, ever since this whole mess started!" My voice grew louder, charged with frustration. "I never know who to believe, Erik. And just when I think I've settled in or I'm beginning to think I can trust one person, I find out something else. Or someone tells me that person is a liar. What am I supposed to do? All I can do is make the decision that I think will keep me alive!"
Erik wouldn't look at me. "I'm sorry this happened," he mumbled. Finally, he looked up, his eyes full of anguish. "Please believe I only want to protect you."
The anger drained out of me, leaving me totally exhausted. "I believe you." I shut my eyes, running both hands over my face with a groan. "She's going to kill him tomorrow. It's my fault. He came here for me."
Erik frowned, but he didn't say anything. We both looked up as a voice rang down the hall.
"Megan!" Charlotte was charging down the corridor, tears in her eyes. I winced as she threw her arms around me, crushing me in a tight hug.
"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
When she finally released me from her viselike grip, I gave her a watery smile. Davin stood just behind her. Could I trust him? The thought made my anger flare back up. Would I ever be able to stop asking that question?
"I...think I'm just going to go to bed.”
"Of course. Do you want some company?"
"That's okay.” I forced another smile. "You come to bed whenever you want. I just need some time to think." I backed through doorway without waiting for a response.
It should have taken ages to fall asleep. I thought I would thrash around and cry my eyes out, worrying about Loki. But it was like my body was shutting down in spite of my frantic thoughts.
As soon as I lay down and shut my eyes, I began to drift. At first, I traveled into a darkened state, pictures and sounds flying. Beginning to dream. Vaguely I was aware that this was different, that I didn’t fall asleep like this. Not normally. Something had changed. Finally, the void cleared away, replaced by a snowy landscape...
The snow is packed down under my knees, creaking as I move. The wood under my feet is rough, full of splinters and knots that stick into my skin. But I don't feel it. I don't feel anything. I am numb. Crushed by my own betrayal, weighed down by the guilt. The man standing in front of me reads off a long scroll in a somber voice. The crowd below us looks bored, their arms folded, their feet tapping.
"...and for betrayal of her people—on this day, she will be put to death."
He finishes at last. Behind me comes the ringing of a sword being sharpened. My executioner is readying himself. I try to keep myself steady, to keep my face from showing fear. I have been spared the indignity of a blindfold, which is something at least. I can keep my eyes on her, watch her until they do it.
She is on her dais, as she is for all executions. My mother in all of her cold splendor. She sits as rigid as ice on her throne. Her pale fingers curl around the end of the armrests, the only sign she has any emotion at all. I look up and speak my final words.
"I will never forgive you."
Just before I hear the whistle of the sword descending, I see her eyes widen. She has heard my message. Then light explodes around me.
Chapter Forty-Six
A scream tore from my throat as I jolted upright, gasping for air, clutching at my neck. The thin, red line burned as my fingers brushed it.
Charlotte shot up beside me. “What’s the matter? Megan?”
My body was frozen, panic seizing all of my muscles. Any minute now, I would hear footsteps in the hall, guards would burst in again.
“Megan? Was it a dream?”
My fingers curled around the bed sheets, and I had to force the words out. “Yes, a dream. A horrible, horrible dream.”
Still no footsteps, and I started to relax. I couldn’t stand facing any of the frost jotun, not after what that dream had told me.
“What was it?” Charlotte asked. “Why was it so bad?”
“I think...” My body started to tremble now, shaking all over. “I think the queen had her own daughter executed.”
There was no answer from Charlotte. I bent over, trying to breathe deeply. I wished I could see her right now, but all I could see was darkness pressing in on all sides, crushing me.
“We have to get out of here.”
Footsteps pattered toward the door, and then light flooded the room.
Charlotte stood by the door with her hand on the switch, her brown eyes round with astonishment. "You think she killed her own daughter?"
Blinking furiously against the sudden brightness, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, forcing myself to get up. "I didn't understand why my brain seemed to get stuck on this one dream, a dream about Amora dying in battle. Then it was like that dream shorted out and was replaced by something different. She disobeyed an order from her mother and let the prisoners free. But something was blocking that dream from my memory." I caught myself chewing my thumbnail and yanked it away from my mouth. "It wasn't until now that I had the execution dream. Charlotte, what kind of person does that? Killing your own daughter..."
"That's disgusting." She frowned. "You think she'd do something like that to you?"
"Are you kidding?" My voice cracked; I was starting to sound hysterical. "I'm not even her real daughter! I'm just some freakish copy of her! If she killed her real daughter for betrayal, you think she'd pause before chopping my head off?"
Automatically, my hands found their way to my throat again. The line was still burning into my skin. It seemed almost prophetic at this point. I shuddered.
And suddenly, the thought occurred to me that Erik had to have known about this all along. All of his weird, vague answers when we’d talked about Amora. How defensive he’d been when I’d asked how she’d died. My fingers curled into fists, and I clenched my teeth. He knew I was having dreams, but he must have known that memory was blocked somehow. He hadn’t told me, hadn’t even hinted at it.
"Okay." Charlotte walked over to the armoire and tugged one of the doors open. "Let's go. Gra
b a pillowcase and load it up with clothes and whatever else you'll need."
I bolted out of bed. I was on my feet and heading for the dresser drawers. “How do we get past the guards?”
“Didn’t you say there’s going to be a distraction tonight at midnight?” She squinted at the clock. “If Loki lives up to his word, that’ll be in twenty minutes.”
"Loki! Charlotte, we can't just leave him here. The reason he got thrown in the dungeons is because of me. They're going to execute him."
She glared at me. "Damn it, Megan! Now, we not only have to sneak out without being seen, but you want us to break a prisoner out?"
"I can't leave him here. He’s the one who arranged all of this." I tugged the pillowcase off my pillow and shoved underwear and socks inside. “God, I hope he rigged something up that doesn’t rely on him not being in the dungeon.”
"I have no idea how to break someone out of there."
"I don't even know where the dungeons are," I groaned. "This is impossible."
"They're just past the training room." Charlotte punched her overstuffed bag with one fist. "But don't ask me how to break him out. They have a guard down there all the time."
"How do you know that?"
"Davin told me." Her shoulders slumped. "Though I doubt he thought I'd be breaking anyone out with the information."
I hesitated. "Look, I'm sorry. You don't have to go with me. You could stay here with him." Even just the thought of doing this on my own made me feel sick, but Charlotte was already shaking her head.
"You need me," she said firmly.
"Thanks," I mumbled. "Thanks for choosing me..."
We both let the rest of the sentence hang in the air unspoken.
"Okay." She let out of puff of air and stood up with her hands on her hips. "We wait twenty minutes for the distraction. Then we go down to the dungeon. We'll have to leave our pillowcases in the training room, stash them somewhere." She glanced over at the alarm clock on the side table. "Ten minutes. If Loki’s distraction doesn’t work, we’ll have to deal with the guards.”
"What do we do?" I asked. "Knock them out?"
"Yeah. I mean…we’ll have to try.”
I winced, and she waved one hand at me. "It's the best we have.” Charlotte strode over to the vanity and seized a tall, crystal bottle of perfume, weighing it in one hand. "This should do it."
"Are you sure you'll be able to..." I mimicked the gesture of swinging the bottle and she gave me a wry smile.
"Didn't have any trouble with it the other night, did I?"
"No." I couldn't help but grin. "No, you didn't."
"It's a bit different since the guard won't be trying to kill you." Charlotte looked grim. "But it can't be helped."
I watched her heft the bottle experimentally. Sometimes, she scared me a little, but I was glad she was on my side.
The clock seemed to have slowed down. It took forever for both hands to reach the twelve. When they finally did, I braced myself, waiting for…what? An explosion? An attack?
There was nothing. No noise from outside.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows, and I shrugged. “Maybe Loki had to pull the trigger on this one.”
“We’re screwed—”
There was a shout from the corridor, a distant cry that echoed down the hall. I jerked upright, sure I recognized the voice.
“Now,” Charlotte whispered. “Go, go, go!”
"Okay." I took a deep breath. "Let's do this."
We opened the door an inch at a time until the hall light flooded into the bedroom. The hallway was empty. No guards.
It wasn't until we were in the echoing corridors, heading for the training room, that I realized how vulnerable I felt. There was definitely a lot of noise and commotion from the other end of the palace. In the distance, the shouting continued.
I was starting to think the first shout I’d heard had been Erik.
And there we were, creeping around in the dark. If Erik came across us right now, we wouldn't be able to explain ourselves. It was obvious we were running. I'd never felt so exposed in my life. Charlotte must have felt the same way, because each step she took grew faster until we were both speed-walking down the hallway.
My breath was so loud in my ears that I almost didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming toward us until the person was already rounding the corner. For a second, Charlotte and I froze, and my heart gave one violent thump and then turned to ice in my chest.
It was a girl, no more than fifteen or so, with long, stringy, blond hair and downcast eyes. A servant shuffling along with a basket of clothes on her hip. My stomach clenched as she neared us and glanced up.
Wide, turquoise eyes locked with mine.
I recognized her. It was the girl I’d given the pashmina to, the one who’d ruined her sweater. She smiled, just a faint quirk of the lips. Then she shuffled past us, her head bowed, silent as a mouse.
Something in me wondered if she was going to tell someone, but my body seemed to relax unconsciously. Charlotte seized my arm, dragging me out of my thoughts and down the hallway. We reached the training room’s double doors, and she pressed a finger to her lips. I nodded.
The door creaked as she slowly dragged it open, and we both winced.
The room beyond was lit by thin, tubelike patterns that ran along the insides of the icy walls, filling the dim interior with jumping, blue shadows. The swords on the far wall caught the light and glittered silver in the darkness. In the center, the boxing ring was completely dark.
"I think it's empty," Charlotte whispered.
"Yeah. Coast is clear.” It was impulsive, but I headed straight for the sword wall.
"Where are you going?"
I held one finger up. It would just take a second. The light was dim, but instinct guided me toward the far right, the sword on the top row near the end. My katana.
As soon as I had it in my hands, I felt better. The queasiness in my stomach eased up, and I could breathe properly for the first time since we’d left the room.
Charlotte led the way past the archery section, a place I hadn't set foot in because no one had bothered to teach me that particular skill. There was a door set in the wall, and she had to put both hands on the knob and brace herself, grunting with the effort. I came around and placed my hand on the other side, and we pushed it open together.
Stairs sloped down in front of us, vanishing into the darkness. My fingers curled hard around the grip of my sword.
"I'll go first," I whispered.
After dumping my pillowcase on the top step, I crept down a stair at a time, Charlotte close behind me. Our feet scuffed and echoed on the stairs, making me cringe.
At the bottom, the walls fell away, widening into a large hallway that branched off in two different directions. The walls and ceiling were cement, drab and gray. Really strange after having been surrounded by pure ice.
"What now?" The anxiety was back, gnawing at my insides. "We have no idea where they're keeping him."
"Let's try this one first."
The hallway was pretty short. After a few grim passageways lit only by burning torches, we stumbled into an open room that came up on us far more quickly than we'd expected. There was a man sitting in a computer chair, tapping away at a keyboard. Luckily, he was facing away from us. Charlotte quickly pulled me back into the hallway, and we both crouched down behind the passage wall, trying not to breathe too heavily. The room was massive. It was a strange mixture of modern and ancient. Torches burned in brackets, casting flickering light over the walls, and a station of computer monitors filled one corner.
The jotuns had computers. I didn’t know why it surprised me. After all, there was a parking lot full of shiny, new cars outside. But the illusion inside the palace was fairly complete. It had really seemed like another world.
Why not have light bulbs down here when it was obviously wired for electricity? Something told me it was the queen's penchant for drama. Apparently, the dungeon was supposed to
look as creepy and unpleasant as possible.
The monitors must have been used to track prisoners. There was an empty prison cell on each display, bleak and gray. Charlotte nudged me, pointing to the bottom left.
I had to clap one hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. There, on the bottom screen, was Loki, sitting directly in front of the camera. His fingers were curled around the bars, and he had his face pressed between them. His lips were moving.
I could hear him now, a faint voice drifting down the hallway, talking constantly.
"Can I get some fried chicken in here? I'd really like some chicken. And mashed potatoes and gravy. Oh man, I love gravy so much. But only if it doesn't have lumps. Lumps are no good." His voice grew louder, "No lumps, please! You got that?"