Chapter 17
Well, now it wasn’t just a secret between Freyja, Gunnar, and me: everyone knew I was the Angel of Water.
Within the span of Hildur calling forth a handmaid and that handmaid, Helga, escorting me to my rooms, word had traveled throughout the entire castle.
As we trotted down the halls, servants gasped and hid, courtiers parted and whispered.
Even the fake knights in the metal armor displays seemed to turn their heads as we passed.
The hall Helga escorted me down wasn’t any different than the rest: ivory stone ceilings and walls illuminated by floating balls of warm, white light.
Given I’d just been upgraded from prisoner to guest of honor, I probably should’ve been a little more on guard, paying attention a tiny bit more—I probably should’ve been walking a little more briskly, like Helga, but after three days of hiking, on top of twelve hours of air travel, my legs would not go any faster.
So, when the pitter-patter of her feet disappeared around a corner, I simply didn’t have it in me to scurry after her. In fact, without her frantic, darting eyes, I slowed my pace, taking in the tapestries, the art, the statues of elves and beasts carved out of ice.
One canvas in particular drew me in: a pale blue sky with a marble pantheon parting the wispy clouds.
Winged creatures and a mix of beings that could have been Nephilim or elves or another human-like species fought between the sun and the untouched landscape below—a forested bluff overlooking an unruly sea.
A water droplet splashed my cheek. I shot back, glancing at the ceiling.
There were no water stains, no signs of a leak. My gaze fell back to the picture, eyes widening. It’d been days since I’d hit a real bed, so sleep deprivation was definitely kicking in. At least… that’s what I told myself as I backed away and hurried after Helga.
“Your Grace.” She was waiting dutifully in front of a set of mirrored doors at the end of the long, vaulted passage. “The elevator.”
Really? My brows dipped together. We must’ve walked up dozens of staircases, and now she wanted to take the lift? Equally shocking was the fact that such a modern piece of equipment existed in a fortress like this.
But I didn’t question it as the doors slid open, and a pleasant bell greeted us, like metal chimes clinking in the wind. I stepped inside, leaving streaks on the pristine surface with my dirty shoes—marring the smooth sheet of glass.
Glass. As the doors closed, I realized they weren’t mirrored at all; they were see-through. Same with the walls, the floor. We were standing in no more than a glass box.
My stomach dropped, and there was no doubt in my mind that my entire body would be next, shattering the surface and tumbling down the glistening chute.
Helga came up next to me, her should brushing mine. “For your first time, it’s best not to look down.”
Right. Swinging my head up, I focused on the ceiling instead—it was also made of glass, to my dismay. Tightly compacted snow glinted behind it.
“Himinn Tower,” Helga said, unprompted.
It took me a moment to realize she wasn’t speaking to me but to the elevator itself, because at her voice, the cart lurched. My heart leapt into my throat, and we shot upwards.
The walls were free of railings, of anything I could latch onto, and I needed to latch onto something.
Without thinking, I took Helga’s palm in mine.
Her skin was cold and fair, like she’d been sculpted out of the snow.
She gripped back and, despite the temperature, there was a warmth in the gesture, as she gently patted the back of my hand.
Still, saliva flooded my mouth, my gut churning nervously.
It was dark. Cramped. And we were zooming upwards in a box made out of the most breakable material in the world.
I pulled on my collar.
Shadows roamed over the transparent walls when suddenly, the entire world went white, and I squinted against the flare of daylight.
Slowly, I unclenched my fingers, breaking off from Helga. A crystal-clear view unveiled itself before and below us—the valleys, canyons, smoking chimneys, and snow-laden hillsides stretching out for miles in all directions.
We were traveling up the side of the mountain.
The landscape was stunning, endless, a new pocket of the panorama exposed every second we climbed. I blew out a frosty breath, the anxiety slowly giving way to excitement.
Another windchime signaled our stop. The doors crept open. Helga stepped out promptly into a foyer. “Welcome to Himinn Tower, also known as Sky Tower.”
I strode to the center of the cylindrical space and did a slow spin.
It was immediately obvious how this part of the castle earned that name: instead of walls, there were windows filled with expansive views across the elves’ wintry realm.
Thankfully, the floor was the same natural tile that filled the castle below. And from what I could see, so was the single corridor branching off this entry room.
My insides fluttered and, for the first time in days, it wasn’t due to being threatened or scared or chased. It was beautiful.
“There are four suites on this floor.” Helga whisked past the seating area on silent feet, leading me down the hall.
Stone soon replaced the windows, the warmly lit passage mimicking the ones on ground level.
“Your rooms are here. You will go to the queen’s private quarters for breakfast. I will fetch you in the morning. ”
Meeting the monarch was daunting enough, but the locked doors drew my gaze. “Who’s staying in those?” I nodded to the ones farther down the hallway.
Helga’s lips pressed together into a line. “They are occupied by other visitors.” There was no room for questions in that tone.
Dropping the subject, I approached the circular handle to the room she’d indicated was to be mine.
My pulse ticked in my neck. I wasn’t sure what I was afraid of; I’d been granted amnesty, and even if the queen were to change her mind, I was the furthest I could possibly get from the dungeons, probably hundreds of floors above them.
Still, I remembered that eerie draw, that pull. A sense that wasn’t entirely my own, like I was feeling someone else’s dread, someone else’s hopelessness and terror.
My hand was shaky as I gave the handle a twist and pressed the door inward, and the uneasiness floated away.
When the elf said rooms, she wasn’t kidding. This wasn’t a room; it wasn’t even a suite. It was pretty much a small apartment—I was hardly one foot in, and I could already tell it was bigger than the one my dad and I shared in Santa Cruz. Epic didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Sorry!” Helga squeaked from behind me, her voice timid and rushed.
Sorry for what? The chic, tufted seating area? The tray of pickled veggies, cheese, meat, fish, and bread on the coffee table? The wall of books, the crackling fire, the panoramic view overlooking the mountains?
I turned just in time to catch the thick fabric of her green dress slipping out of the room.
The lock clicked.
“Wait!” I sprinted towards the door and jiggled the handle, banged on the surface with my angry fists. But it wouldn’t give. “Rude!” I shouted through the thick wood. No clue if she heard me.
So, I was still a prisoner, then, just in a pretty, gilded cell.
Pressing my ear to the door, I waited for the faintest sound of skittering feet, of soft breathing, but Helga had disappeared. The hall had fallen silent.
I was alone.
Sulking in the entryway wouldn’t get me anywhere. With a sigh, I pushed off the frame and explored my temporary home—my cage. Crossing a hand-loomed rug, I walked over to the coffee table and picked up a grape. The sweet flavor burst in my mouth.
Next, the chewy, salt-crusted bread.
Guess it could have been worse.
“Enjoying your meal?”
I gasped, a piece of food lodging in my throat. Was someone in here with me? Hitting my chest, I coughed the bite down before I could choke to death while my head errantly spun to find the source of the feminine voice.
Other than my red-faced reflection in the mirrored cabinets, hutches, and drawers, not another being was in sight.
Movement pulled my gaze downwards, to where the fire flickered in the hearth.
Just above the coals, a face winked back at me.
I jumped back at the sight of a floating head crafted out of the flames, tripping over the velvet couch seat, landing in a mountain of frilly, beaded pillows.
A head. A face. In the fire.
“Oh, poor Helga just arranged those.”
“You—you talk.” Dryness crept into my mouth. “But what… what are you?”
“Someone they needed to keep quiet.”
My jaw dropped.
“Kidding!” The flames sputtered from an invisible draft. “I’m a fire nymph.”
I scooted to the edge of the cushion, peering into the blaze—at the distinct pointy nose, the dancing eyebrows, the lips parted in a smile. “What are you doing in my fireplace?”
The kindling crackled, as if the spirit stuck inside was… laughing. “I live here. What are you doing in my room?”
Fair point. “I was brought here against my will.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why the servants came in so hot and bothered today. Sweeping up all my piles of ash, replacing my logs—I’d been collecting those for years. And the spiders, they didn’t even stand a chance. No warning, no nothing. Although I think I enjoy people more than arachnids. For the most part.”
My attention darted to the ceiling, the crown molding chipped and worn; to the walls, the floral paper peeling at the corners; and the bookcases, thick layers of dust gathered between the spines.
At first glance, the place had seemed fit for a queen. But as I looked closer… things were out of place, poorly hidden, quickly breezed over, as if the staff had been in a rush to clean up.
“It’s been so long since anyone’s been up here. I’m positive the court forgot I existed. I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone in a long time. Am I doing it right?” The fire shuddered. “Am I talking too much?”
I shook my head, dropping my gaze to a runner at the foot of the white brick that made up the fireplace, a large stain fading the intricate pattern. It’d also been way too long since I had had a conversation like this—with someone who had no ulterior motive.
Even if that someone was a talking inferno.
Leaning forward, I brought my elbows to my knees. The element warmed my cheeks. “What’s your name?”
“The last visitor called me Eldi. It means fire in Icelandic. What’s yours?”
“River.”
“River.” She paused. “You remind me of her.”
“Who?” My heart stilled.
“The last visitor. Her name was…” The flames spit. “I can’t remember.”
“Helpful.” I eased back into the cushions, nostrils twitching at the hint of mildew.
Smoke plumed. “What? It was over a decade ago!”
“Are you getting fiery with me?” Biting back a smile, I laid my head back and closed my eyes.
“You know, there’s a bed through those double doors.”
“I figured.” My lids shot open. “Are there any other entrances I should know about? Or exits, for that matter. Secret ones, perhaps?”
“There’s the window. I’ve heard it opens. Can you fly?”
“No.” Shoulders caving, I settled into the cushions, letting my breaths slow.
“Not much use to you, then. Although, I’ve seen the skyline in the mirror.
When the sun hits the mountains at certain times of day, like right now, it looks like they’re on fire.
Alpenglow, they call it. There’s really nothing quite like it.
Maybe you could check it out, you know, on your way to the bedroom? ”
“I’m too tired to move.” I was too tired to open my eyes again. Almost too tired to talk.
“Are you at least going to close the curtains?”
“No.”
“Okay, well… good night.”
“Good night, Eldi.”