Chapter 18
Thunder cracked. The tide bellowed back, the force of it shaking my bones. Back flush against the weatherworn wall, I hid beneath the lighthouse’s tower, blending with the shadows.
A cry rang out, so close it could have been next to me, but it somehow felt lifetimes away. The sky rippled, the air splitting apart like a piece of torn fabric, as things not of this world—things with horns and fangs and murder in their eyes—poured out.
The temperature plummeted, the cold snaking up my spine. A dark cloud of those beasts swarmed the countryside, devouring everything, everyone in its path, leaving a trail of skeletons behind.
A snarl tickled my ear. I turned. A demon, lurking in the darkness with dripping, open, jowls…
My eyes thrust themselves open. I clutched at the air, sitting up in one sharp gasp.
Insistent knocking echoed from the entry, jolting me from the nightmare into reality. The elves. The castle.
“Your Grace?” Helga’s words were muffled behind the heavy door. “Are you decent?”
“Uh, yes.” The door creaked open. “No!” I stumbled to my feet. “Give me five minutes!”
I glanced at the hearth, the fire nothing but glowing embers. Shit! Was Eldi okay?
Grabbing an iron pole, I poked at the burnt logs and piled another one on. My heart sank. Did I kill her?!
“Ow!” A raspy voice ignited with the flames.
The tool slipped from my grip. “Sorry, Eldi! I thought you were a goner.”
“You can’t put me out that easily,” she mumbled. “Where are you running off to?”
“I’m late!” Tripping over my feet, I darted to the bedroom, clipping a small table with my hip. An entire plate of macarons and a jug of what looked and smelled like wine crashed onto the hardwood floor. “Damnit.”
“Everything alright in there?” Eldi called.
“Yes,” I lied, ignoring the urge to bury myself under the covers of the four-poster bed. Instead, I beelined for the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my backpack on an accent chair. I was surprised to see it sitting there. I’d assumed it had been confiscated upon arrival.
Gold arches, silver accents, and fluffy pink towels failed to mask the reality of the room: a leaky faucet, a massive chunk missing from the tile, splintered mirrors—a kingdom in disrepair. No shower, but the clawfoot tub was full. That was convenient, at least.
I dipped my finger in the water. Disappointment washed over me.
Cold, freezing cold. It must have been pulled last night. I sighed. Obviously, Galdur was better used on more important things than a bath, but a small shred of me had hoped the warmth had been preserved with elven magic. Nope.
There was no time to drain it and refill it, so, I stripped off my crusty clothes, my phone falling out of my pocket and clattering to the floor, and in I went.
Once dressed in a striped long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, I snagged the dwarven knife Nemuik had given me from the folds of clothes in my bag.
Still shivering from what was pretty much a cold plunge, I scurried to the couch, booties dangling from my fingers, and sat down.
“You’re in a hurry,” Eldi commented.
“I’m meeting with the queen.” Unrolling a pair of socks, I slipped one over my numb toes.
“Yesterday, I somehow convinced her not to toss me into the ice dungeon, but today’s a different day.
I assume she’ll want to discuss the vision that brought me here, Chthonia’s plans, stipulations for unlocking the watchtower.
” Wiggling my other foot into the cotton, I said, “But who knows if she’ll be as forgiving. Got any advice?”
“I once heard a visitor say it’s best to just smile and nod.”
“Well…” Moving on to my shoes, I slipped the leather over my ankle. “I’m not good at either of those things.”
“You don’t have to be good; you just have to play. With the elves, it’s all a game.”
I nodded, clipping the dagger’s sheath to my waistband.
The flames crackled. “And I know it’s not much coming from a burning pile of sticks, but I like your smile.”
My cheeks lifted with the corners of my mouth. “Thank you, Eldi.”
Quickly weaving the strands of my damp hair into a French braid, I rose.
The glass in the mirrored furniture shook against the thud of my boots as I strode to the entryway, my shadow billowing over the floor, parting like wings in the shafts of natural light.
“Oh!” Eldi called after me. “Under no circumstances should you enact elven law.”
Halfway across the room, I stilled. “What?”
Another set of knocking, pounding, on the door, pulled my focus.
“Even if it’s your last resort,” the fire nymph continued. “Don’t do it.”
“Your Grace, are you ready?” Helga’s voice, meek as ever, was barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
Blood rushing in my ears, the only thing I could think to ask Eldi was, “Why?”
“You’ll get what you want, but like everything in life…” She trailed off, a lick of blue twisting with the flames, sadness coating her voice. “It comes at a cost. The elves are cunning. Creative. They’ll use your words against you, even the ones you do not say.”
Realization hit me like a solid punch to the gut: the dry jokes, the tips, somehow knowing where everything was despite being caged in an iron grate.
“Eldi,” I said, my voice shaking. “Did they put you in there?”
Another knock rang out from the door. “My lady, the queen has stated she is going to come up here herself should you not open the door. She has also stated you will not like it if she does.”
“Eldi?” I whispered.
“Go!” With a flare of sparks and smoke, the nymph’s face disappeared within the flames.
Even with the fire burning in the hearth, a chill ran up my spine.
A clock chimed. Silverware clinked. Throats cleared and bobbed.
I said nothing. Looked at no one—even if they stared at me—just slurped my lukewarm porridge.
The goosebumps hadn’t left my arms. I did not want to end up in a fireplace.
“So.” Hildur batted at the corners of her mouth with a frayed cloth napkin. “When did you take her place?”
My spoon froze in front of my mouth. “Whose?”
“Your mother’s.” The queen leaned back in her chair, a servant answering the cue and grabbing her empty plate. “Unless you’re Mira in disguise?”
Shaking my head, I took a bite of my breakfast, pushing the bowl aside. “Um, recently.”
“Interesting. I thought archangels weren’t allowed to birth children. How ever did that get approved?” Reaching for the teapot, she poured herself a cup, tendrils of steam wafting in the air, condensation lining the cracked spout. “Or did it… not?”
My grip tightened on the unpolished utensil. Eldi’s words echoed in my mind. The elves are cunning. Creative. They’ll use your words against you, even the ones you do not say.
This could very well be a trick, but one thing was for sure: Hildur was testing me, reading me; she was playing chess and going for checkmate.
I sat a little higher, pushed my shoulders back, got in the game. “What does it matter? I’m the one who broke your chandelier. Clearly, I am who I say I am.”
“You do owe me for that, by the way.” Such a strange remark for a kingdom that wore gilded threads and ate with silver spoons.
“Add it to my bill.” I tossed my floral napkin on the table.
Taking a cautious sip of her tea, Hildur set down her cup, the chipped porcelain clinking against the saucer. “Alright. You want to know the truth?”
I schooled my expression into one of practiced boredom, the same one I wore in summer school. The only hint of my fear was my fingers picking themselves to shreds in my lap.
When the queen didn’t immediately continue, my gaze skimmed the rest of the room. Freyja’s eyes glimmered with curiosity in the adjacent seat. Even the servants seemed to creep closer, linger longer.
Hildur frowned infinitesimally, either at the idea of telling the truth or at the added attention.
“I haven’t seen Gaia in over a decade.” Her gaze cut past me, as if she were seeing through the solid silver doors, down the long stretch of corridor, past the arctic tundra, to the tower on the bluffs.
A decade. I fought to stay still, but the timing made my shoulders jerk. Ever since my mom’s passing.
“But even so, it was pretty sporadic to run into any of the Watchers after the Cross-Realm War.” My heart stuttered.
Did that mean Hildur knew the others? Fei, Akosua—my mom.
Her irises flared electric as she continued.
“Dragging entire kingdoms to battle over a centuries-old conflict that isn’t ours, and will truly never end, isn’t the politest thing to do, but if it were me, I’d at least have the decency to face the aftermath. ”
She leaned forward, and I kept my spine straight, fighting the urge to look away.
“Is that why you’re here?” Her voice made the place settings rumble. “Did they send you to finally clean up the mess?”
“I—I…” A tremor worked its way into my teeth, my bones. “No. Look, I can’t change the past. But I want to help shape the future, so the Cross-Realm War doesn’t happen again.”
As if I were about to fill her in on the latest neighborhood gossip, Hildur whispered, “And how are you going to do that?”
That look made me dig my nails deeper into my skin.
Glancing at my fingers, my attention snagged on the faded yellow marks staining the white tablecloth. Huh. Maybe they missed laundry day. Or maybe her beloved, thriving kingdom was falling apart behind a facade of splendor.
My chair scuffed the torn rug as I scooted back. “By finding Gaia.”
“What do you need her for? This is elven territory, and you have an audience with the queen.” She narrowed her gaze. “Are you powerless?”
So much disgust in that word: powerless. To her, it meant useless, and that was one thing I couldn’t afford to be.
“No!” Yes. Kind of. Ugh. I could just feel the bitter pride radiating across the table from Freyja.
“Gaia—the Watchers,” Hildur said, a hint of a snarl lining her tone. “They locked themselves up in their pretty little towers over ten years ago, never to be seen or heard from again.” Her cool hand slipped over mine. “Leaving the rest of us to rot.”