Chapter 19
The wind whipped along the balcony, howling off the sides of the castle, a light layer of snow skittering over the frozen river below.
“This moat.” Hildur waved her hand over the top of the rail. “What use is it if it’s frozen solid?”
Fingers numb, I gripped the thick stone, the raw air burning my face, stinging the tops of my ears. “Not much…”
“You say an Armageddon’s coming.” Her cheeks flushed at the icy chill. “Anyone could pass this river as it stands now.”
“And you want me to do…” I dared a glance at Freyja, who was hiding a laugh poorly disguised as a cough. “…what, exactly?”
Flabbergasted, the queen turned to me. “Fix it.”
Face pinching, I met her violet stare. “You want me to fix it right this second?”
“You want me to ask twice?” That look, like she’d never in her life had to ask for something a first time.
Gulping, I turned my attention back to the moat. “How?”
“How did you rip my chandelier out of its socket? How did you decorate my walls with ice crystals? Kristjan.” Releasing me from her bitter gaze, she called her courtier over. “Gakktu úr skugga um ae stíflurnar virki.”
His pale eyes darted between us. Honestly, I wasn’t sure who scared him more.
“So, are you ready?” the queen continued.
“What?” I balked. “No.”
“What’s the issue?”
I gestured to the open doors, to the elves gathering at the threshold, eyes wide, lips swift. “The issue is you’re forcing me to perform like a show pony.”
“Do you blame them? They’re curious. Not every day you get to see the Angel of Water perform feats for the kingdom.”
I crossed my arms. “Yeah, well, my powers aren’t magic tricks.”
“We’ll all have frostbite if you take any longer,” Freyja bit out from the other side of her mom.
I leaned over the railing, just so I could glower at her.
“Oh, River,” Hildur said with a tight smile aimed at the small crowd, “with that attitude you’ll never make it far. Humor me. You’re confident in your skills, are you not?”
Hot air blew out of my nose. Maybe if we stood here long enough, the ice would just melt, and we’d all be on our way. Popping up on my toes, I craned my neck to try and see beyond the turret, which was blocking the view of the mountain.
A stroke of lustrous blue glimmered beyond the icy tower. I pressed myself farther, until the dramatic cascades of a waterfall came into view. It was frozen solid: the water caught in the action of falling, the mist scattered like ice pellets, the spray stuck in midair.
Setting my heels back on the ground, I asked, “How long has it been like that?”
“Long.” That was it. That was all she gave me.
“Have you tried anything else to thaw it?”
With a tilt of her head, she pursed her mouth and raised a brow.
Okay, so that answered that.
Dropping my gaze to the moat, a permanent frost dusting the fronds of grass that lined the banks, I followed the grooves in the ice. Thin, black veins shimmered between the sheets of vibrant turquoise—threads of dark magic. Unease hollowed my heart.
Assuming they’d tried to use their own source of power—Galdur—with no success, why was she so convinced mine would work? And if it didn’t, then what? No Jarearbaeli? Tossed out onto the glacier? The guillotine?
I turned back to the queen. Expectation emanated off her in almost tangible waves; the pressure felt heavy on the air.
What was I supposed to do? Questions were clearly forbidden, and I couldn’t tell who she was keeping the answers from: me or the hundreds of clueless elves huddled along the perimeter.
Perhaps both.
“Okay.” Shivering at a particularly frigid gust, I gripped my arms tight across my chest. “I clear this and get the river flowing, and you’ll take me to Gaia.”
“Yes.”
I glanced over my shoulder, and spotted Gunnar, a statue of uniformed muscle, his navy-blue coat and stamped beret popping against the sea of beaded dresses and metallic threads.
Attention back on the task, I released a controlled exhale, then slowly filled my lungs with the crisp morning air. Opening my mind to every sound, every scent, every quiver of light and shadow—striving to reach that space in my chest between body and soul, between bones and blood.
Nothing.
The same nothing I felt when my fingers reached for the space under my collarbone and met only air. I couldn’t do this, not without my mom’s necklace—my conduit.
Despite the chill, nervous sweat beaded my temple. My nails dug into my palms.
Defeat slithered its way into my thoughts.
These weren’t the right circumstances. Every time I’d called on my Source, I’d done it in a moment of panic without really thinking about it.
Now that I wanted it, needed it, it wouldn’t come.
I was in way over my head. This was a horrible idea; I’d never be good enough—
A voice, one I’d never physically hear again, filtered through my thoughts. Allow yourself to feel, my therapist used to say.
I didn’t deserve her words, not even in memory.
If Dr. Fairmore had been assigned any other patient, she’d still be alive.
But they killed her—Chthonia’s fringe group, maybe even Ryder himself—to get to me.
I wished I could ask her: was there something else I was supposed to feel besides the utter desperation, the rage, the longing, the pain of her loss?
Powerful.
The word flashed across my mind like the crack of a whip, shattering the wall I’d built around my heart.
There. A faint tremor began beneath the ice. A whisper rose across the slick surface. A bead of water slipped down the icicles. A shadow flittered over the bright turquoise hue.
My Source. It was here.
While I felt a rush of elation, I hadn’t earned anything from my audience—not a flinch, not a single bat of an eye from the elven queen, her daughter, her court.
Flexing my hands, I pushed out in the air, as if I were pulling the ice apart, hoping the motion would direct my Source to follow the movement, just like it’d done when I was surfing in the Atlantic Ocean. This time it didn’t work, of course. Stubborn-ass magic.
Or maybe… maybe the dark power woven into the block was stronger than I thought.
Prickles of doubt speared my concentration, but I wouldn’t give up. I’d made it all the way here. Water magic was in my blood.
I could do this without my necklace.
I’d just have to try really fucking hard.
Mentally swatting away the intrusive thoughts, I poured all my focus into the element I was named for. My entire being—every ballooning of my lungs, every beat of my heart, every clench of my muscle—dedicated to releasing the water from whatever evil spell had come upon it.
My hands went white as the blood rushed away from my fingertips.
A loud crack shook the castle’s foundation.
Gasps came from inside, a chorus of panic and awe. Even the queen betrayed her fear when her hands shot to the railing, holding tight. I grimaced, redoubling my focus.
Darkness crept into the corners of my vision with each pulse of pain shooting to my head.
A fracture split the frozen river in two. It skittered up the waterway to the bottom of the falls, slabs of ice descending into the electric-blue depths.
The air quaked. A deafening roar filled my ears.
A cool breeze rushed past my face. The sharp whine of swords sliding out of their sheaths followed, as the royal court took a giant step back.
Hundreds of glacial shards blew out from the falls, pulverizing the frozen sheet that the river had become as the natural flow returned. I ducked under my arms, chips of ice bouncing off the railing, the banks, the stone.
Water plunged into the pool, shattering the silence, pushing the remaining ice blocks downstream.
A rumble echoed beneath my feet. Was the balcony shaking, or was that just me? I turned towards the castle. Everything—the sounds, the light, the world—seemed to move in slow motion.
My brows crumpled. People were applauding? Shouting, clapping, stomping their feet…
That—that couldn’t be right.
Beside me, Hildur straightened, looking annoyed as she brushed errant snowdrift from the skirt of her gown. “Well,” she snarked, voice low in my ear, “don’t keep them waiting.”
Clutching my stomach, I followed the directive of the waving, smiling queen—giving the elves a painful, pathetic bow. It was all I could muster; my muscles were so sore. The burnout hit suddenly, as if I had just run a marathon, leaving my body quivering and achy.
Their answering cheers echoed off the snowcapped mountains at a level my ears simply could not handle. I blinked rapidly. I was seeing double, triple. I needed to sit down.
I caught Gunnar’s eye. He was watching me closely, as if he knew something was wrong.
Oh God.
I took a deep breath. I would absolutely die if I passed out in the center of this balcony, in front of everyone, in front of him—the cool, elven guard.
“Alright,” I clipped out, swaying against a world that felt like it was spinning underfoot. “I did it. Can we go?”
“Oh,” the queen simpered. “It’s far too late. Another time. Tomorrow.”
“Are you serious?” My jaw dropped.
“Does it sound like I’m joking?” She walked briskly towards the open doors, her royal subjects in tow, dress flowing behind her in a wave of velvet and silk.
Pain radiated through my temple. “What am I supposed to do now?!”
“Explore the castle,” she said, waving me off. The court dispersed, going back to their duties, as if this were some kind of halftime performance.
“You can’t do that!” I called after her, but she had already disappeared into the belly of the castle.
“She’s the Queen of the Huldufólk,” Freyja purred, swinging in front of me so she could walk backwards and talk. “She can do whatever she wants.”
“Where are you going?” I huffed.
“I’m going to spar.”
Uh, I most definitely wouldn’t be doing that. Not that she invited me, anyways. “Where did Gunnar go?”
“Huh.” With a sly grin, she tilted her head. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”