Chapter 22 #2
“I’m not that kind of—” Friend, I almost said. But I choked on the word, images of Javi flooding my mind: Crying at the Boardwalk. Lying in the rubble. Screaming from a hospital bed. I had no shortage of memories of exactly what kind of friend I had been to him.
Maybe Freyja was right to steer clear of me.
Maybe they all should.
An iron gate creaked open, the sound pulling my focus ahead.
We spilled out into a large courtyard, the deep indigo night rising behind the snowy hills. Cars lined the left wall, stables the right.
Horse-drawn carriages would probably be more fitting for this castle, yet two SUVs idled in the center, plumes of steam piping out from their exhaust.
A few curious noses leaned over the gates at the stables, the animals whinnying, their hooves scuffing the dirt. One snorted, showing off its square teeth as if it were smiling, and I caught myself grinning back. It flared its light gray nostrils, rubbing its… horn… on a wooden pole.
My stomach flipped. “Is that a unicorn?” It was more breath than voice, but I swore the creature neighed in response.
Gunnar was paces away, opening the door to the idling black Jeep. “After you,” he said, waving me into the car.
This four-by-four was so damn high, I had to stand on my tiptoes just to see the inside. I might as well have been asked to climb a mountain, and after today’s training, every muscle screamed as I hiked myself up.
“Hello,” I squeaked, as I crawled onto the leather to join the three elves already sitting in there, staring. No Freyja—she must be in the other car.
The driver nodded, his grown-out locks winging out from the sides of his hat. His hand was locked with the hand of the elf in the passenger seat, her fingers tight in his.
“Hi.” Tossing her shiny black hair, the girl’s russet eyes moved to Gunnar, who was getting in on the other side, pushing the dude in the middle seat closer to me.
The guy tugged on his chestnut curls ruefully. “I always get bitch.”
“You like it, Fritz,” the girl teased.
“Everyone, this is River—”
Gunnar had barely gotten the words out when the car skidded into motion, the steering wheel circling against the driver’s palm. I flailed for the ceiling handle, my elbow slamming into Fritz.
“Sorry,” I said.
He rubbed his arm, the fabric bunching over his warm ivory skin. “Trust me, I’m used to it.”
We flew down an icy road away from the castle. Snow eddied out from under the tires, painting the windows. The music vibrated against the leather, almost too loud to think.
Buckle your seatbelt. Ryder’s words echoed through my mind. You know, that’s a very bad habit of yours. I almost resisted out of spite, but I scrabbled for it anyways.
“Don’t worry,” Fritz yelled above the bass. “You’ll get used to Siebel’s driving—” He cut himself short. We hit a bump. Unclear whether it was a rock or pothole or cat. Hopefully not a cat. Fritz gave me a wry smile. “Eventually.”
“If I live long enough,” I muttered back, clicking my belt into place.
As Siebel zoomed over a snowy mound, our palms slammed into the ceiling, the only thing stopping our heads from plowing into it.
Staying in my rooms would have been the more comfortable option, the safer option. Binds of anxiety tightened around my chest.
The girl in the passenger seat swung around, adjusting her navy cable-knit sweater, the stereo illuminating the layer of freckles on her nose and cheeks, her complexion pale and bright, like a fresh winter day. “You okay back there?”
With a clenched smile, I nodded, my grip tightening around the curve of the seat.
The mountain range raced by us in a blur of rock and darkness and ice. A streak of neon green flashed across the sky, the tail end of a northern light.
“I’m Eva, by the way.” She turned the music down. “What brings you to Hamarinn?”
I could lie. I probably should lie, with a bounty on my head and support for my enemy rising every day, but I was tired of that. Tired of pretending to be who I wasn’t.
So, I told her straight up. “I’m here to find Gaia, the Angel of Earth. The queen’s taking me to Jarearbaeli tomorrow.”
“Wow, I haven’t heard that name in years. It’s been forever since anyone’s talked about it.” Eva’s eyes widened. “Do you all remember what happened to the last guy who tried to go up there?”
I blinked. The wind whipped past the glass.
Fritz tilted his head. “I do.”
Gunnar cleared his throat, shifting in the corner of my eye. I wasn’t sure if that was a message for the elves or if he was just… moving around.
“Never mind…” Pretending to zip his lips and throw away the key, Fritz turned his gaze to everyone and everything but me.
I wasn’t going to just let that slide, not anymore. “Enlighten me. Please.”
“Let’s just say…” Eva tucked her fist beneath her chin. “He didn’t make it back.”
“But you will, of course,” Gunnar quickly added.
“Of course,” Eva echoed, that tight look on her face contradicting her cheery optimism.
“Okay.” I crossed my arms. “What exactly aren’t you guys telling me?”
“The only thing the Eyes recovered was a head!” Fritz blurted out, immediately slapping his palm over his mouth.
Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “What happened to the rest of him?”
“We don’t know exactly.” Eva gripped her elbows, a slight tremor rocking her shoulders, as if she were fighting off a chill. “There are… stories about Jarearbaeli. I remember the ones my dad told me when I was younger. Some are so gruesome they gave me nightmares for a week.”
Right. That didn’t sound ominous or anything.
Specks of light wavered in the distance, growing steadier as our tires sped nearer. Our floodlights swept over clusters of grass-thatched homes, steepled barns, glass greenhouses, until the concrete warehouses, cobblestone sidewalks, and vibrant streets of a city replaced the dirt roads.
“It’s all urban legend.” Gunnar waved his hand. “A friend of a cousin of a sister’s ex type of situation, who knew someone that went up there. Nothing more than stories told to little elves so they won’t go sneaking off into the highlands.”
“It’s true.” Fritz nodded frantically, his curls bouncing as we veered around another sharp curve. “That’s where the giants are, and giants eat elves, so maybe that’s why no one ever goes—or comes back.”
“Uh.” Gunnar’s face pinched. “I was thinking more because it’s super remote?”
“No, Fritzy is right,” Eva said. “Monsters find their homes there, and Jarearbaeli has some of the worst.”
Gunnar palmed his face. “The goal was to make her feel better, guys.”
Our next turn sent us rattling down a narrow alley at a pace that didn’t fling me back into my seat—a speed I didn’t think Siebel knew existed.
I chewed the inside of my lip, willing my heart to slow, too. “Do you actually know of anyone who lived to provide the details, or is this just based on rumors?”
“Kistuleitarinn.”
The elves sucked in a collective breath.
“What?” Eva squinched her face at Fritz. “Why would anyone listen to him?”
Gunnar’s brows dipped, lines indenting his forehead. “Kistuleitarinn is a known pathological liar—among other things.”
Disturbing as this all was, I had to ask. “Who’s Kistuleitarinn?”
Fritz’s throat bobbed. “The Coffin Seeker.”
My heart thudded in my chest. But before I could question Fritz further, before I even had time to digest what he’d said, Siebel eased us to a stop.
At first, I thought we’d pulled up to an empty lot, until I realized the building was under a mound of grass shaped like a hill. Faint wisps of light crept through the crack beneath the black doors.
After hitching the e-brake, Siebel got out, the cold turning his beige cheeks pink. Eva, Gunnar, and Fritz followed. From my perch, I watched a second car pull up behind us. Three elves leapt down. Freyja caught my eye and offered a sarcastic wave. Beside her, I recognized one of the others—Flóki.
Legs dangling over the seat, I prepared to lower myself onto the strip of lawn. “Where are we?”
“In the Valley of the Glaciers, on the outskirts of álfaborg—our elven capital.” Gunnar offered his hand, helping me land firmly on my feet. “We’re in the Troll Quarters.”
“Trolls?” My gut did a somersault. I knew nothing of trolls other than what I’d seen in comics and on TV, which didn’t paint the best picture. “So, are… are they not like the giants Fritz was talking about?”
“Oh no.” Gunnar whisked past me, the fire in the braziers at the foot of the path flickering over his features. Shooting me a sly grin, he said, “They’re much, much worse.”