Chapter 26
“Thank the gods you’re okay.” Eva wrapped her arms around me, giving me a squeeze. The air left my lungs as we tilted backwards, nothing but empty breeze to catch us as we teetered on the edge of the crevasse. “What were you doing over there? The mountain is no place to be after a slide.”
“Do you want to, um, maybe…” I gestured at the rift behind me, still way too close for comfort.
“Oh!” Eva inched us back towards solid ground. “My bad. You probably don’t want to be anywhere near that certain-death hole.”
“Preferably as far away from it as I can get,” I said with a tight smile as she finally let go and Olivia stepped in.
Linking our arms, she pulled me away from the precipice, from the gawking court.
Guards scurried by. More ladders bowed across the crevasse. The clang of metal on metal filled the blaring silence.
Olivia dropped her voice to a whisper. “Did the queen have you on cleanup duty?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled back. “I saw footprints in the snow. Fresh ones.”
“Footprints?” Her nose squinched in confusion.
“They led towards the mountain.” I looked over her shoulder, my gaze sweeping the fragile rock face. “I had to investigate.”
“Reckless River,” Freyja muttered, leaning against an unscathed part of the defensive wall.
Olivia shot her a glare. “Whoever was out there could have been the cause of all this.”
“Okay.” Freyja dropped her heel from the stone. “And did you find anyone on your little mission, angel?”
My brows furrowed together. “No.”
“That’s because it was just an avalanche.” The princess curled her fingers, like suddenly her nails were the most interesting thing in the world. “We get those from time to time, living on a glacier and all. It sucks, but it’s a part of our life.”
I loaded my chest with air, only to huff it out in a long breath. The dark veins, the shadows, the neon-blue eyes—there was nothing natural about any of it.
“What about the fog?” I challenged. “Suspended over the debris like that? And didn’t you see the shadows poking through?” Turning to Olivia, I asked, my tone pleading, “Did you?”
Guilt crinkled her forehead. “I got out here too late to get a glimpse of anything.”
“I know you’re only part mortal, but you’ve heard of clouds before, right?” Freyja threw back. “I’m sure it was a trick of the light.”
Royal blue flashed in the corner of my vision. “She’s over here!” a voice called.
Lips pulled in a thin line, Gunnar jogged over, decked in full uniform. An elf trailed after him, white coat flapping in the wind. The medic, I assumed. I was so frustrated with the situation that I had forgotten my head was bleeding.
“Perfect timing, G,” Freyja drawled.
His palm gently grazed my arm. “Hey. You okay?”
Javi’s words, the same question he’d ask every time I went into sensory overdrive and my brain went fuzzy and my world went black.
Before my body had started adjusting to my angel senses, before he’d ended up in a coma, that phrase used to bring me back from just about anything.
I thought I’d never hear them again. They hit me like a gut punch.
I didn’t have it in me to respond, so I nodded, even if the movement angrily zapped my nerves and Olivia had to steady me.
“We were just having the most interesting conversation,” Freyja said.
“Conversation or interrogation…” Olivia muttered so only I would hear.
“Oh yeah?” Gunnar shifted his shoulders, colorful patches on the fabric of his uniform rippling with the movement. “About what?”
Freyja jerked her head at me in a challenge. “Go on, River, tell him what you saw.”
I narrowed my eyes. Was she baiting me?
“Footprints, shadows,” she went on, her tone casual as if we were all out on a leisurely lunch date and a medic wasn’t blotting my temples and wiping away the dried blood. “But I don’t want to steal her thunder.”
Eva gnawed on her lip a safe distance away. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d blame this all on Gryla.”
The doctor stilled, gauze pressing against my cheek.
Freyja’s attention swiveled in her direction. “Oh please, that’s a folktale.”
“Yeah.” Eva’s boots scuffed the snow. “I’m just saying.”
A breeze tickled my skin, tossing my hair. If I listened closely, I swore a hint of that eerie laugh echoed across the ravine.
“Who’s Gryla?” Olivia asked, and I was glad I didn’t have to.
Relieving me of the pressure to my cheekbone, the medic dropped their hand and reached into their bag, pulling out an amber bottle full of sticky, yellow liquid.
“An evil witch who has a long-standing feud with the elves. Rumor has it that she used to be a queen, but now she’s an ogress.” Eva cleared her throat. “We used to dare each other to find her when we were little. No one did, of course—”
“I wonder why,” Freyja cut in.
“Because she doesn’t want to be found,” Eva shot back.
“Because she’s not real,” Gunnar said, crossing his arms. The curve of his bicep brushed mine. “The Huldufólk have very creative ways to keep their elven children out of the caves. This is one of them.”
Olivia and I quickly glanced at each other, a spark of suspicion passing between us. They had all said something similar about Jarearbaeli. But every myth had a true source.
“Regardless,” Gunnar continued, “if River saw footprints, we should be investigating. No one said it had to be Gryla.”
“They were probably from the victims. Or the volunteers.” Freyja craned her neck in the direction where the wreckage once stood. “You saw the chaos this morning. Everyone was scrambling.” She barked out a hostile laugh. “Clearly I’m a nonbeliever.”
Gunnar shook his head. “Regardless of what you believe, we should still be suspicious.”
“Eyes. Nephilim.” A graceful purr silenced us. All faces snapped in its direction. The medic stumbled to their feet, ghost white. The queen picked an invisible string off her sleeve, even though the stitching looked perfect, intricate and shimmering. “Don’t we have things to do?”
“Yes, we do.” Bowing, Eva placed a hand over her heart. Her russet eyes darted to the other soldiers. “Excuse us, Your Highness.”
Freyja dropped into a dramatic curtsey, shooting us a lazy grin. She and Eva stalked towards the castle, the doctor scrambling to fill their leather satchel and follow, tripping over the slush.
Olivia dipped her chin in respect. Gathering her skirts, she slid past the queen. “Meet me in the archives,” she mouthed, before disappearing.
Hildur turned to Gunnar, raising a dark, arched brow. “Stelpths?”
“Your Highness.” Palm flat against his chest, he shifted on his feet. “With all due respect, I think this area needs to be investigated. River saw tracks in the snow.”
A thin line dimpled the space between her brows, the faintest crease of concern. “Oh?”
Gunnar nodded at me in encouragement.
“Yes,” I forced out, making myself meet the queen’s steely gaze.
“They went up the mountain, into the crags. I lost them on one of the passes.” I laced my fingers together, to stop myself from picking.
Did she ever blink? “But I did find a cave. The walls were painted with eyes and there were scraps on the ground as if… as if someone had been living there.”
“Gryla’s lair.” Letting out a curt sigh, she pursed her lips.
“The youth have been sneaking into that cave since the inception of this kingdom. Eyes are on the milder side of what has been painted on its walls. You should have seen what they drew on there when I was young…” With a face like stone, she turned to Gunnar.
“I hardly think some tracks in the snow and childish vandalism are enough to bring about a search party—”
“There’s more.” I stepped forward.
Expectation charged her stare.
“There was this… fog.”
“Yes, snow and dust particles. Very common after a slide.”
“No.” I shook my head. The queen opened her mouth to insert another chiding comment, but I quickly continued, and she snapped it shut.
“This was suspended over the rubble. It didn’t disperse or drift away.
Parts were dark and smoky, like a storm cloud.
And if I’m being honest, I saw something equally weird yesterday.
There were these… black veins in the frozen moat. ”
She waved a hand. “Well, if that were true, everyone would’ve seen it.” The curved pads of her shoulders lightly shook off a chill, but I knew she wasn’t cold. As a citizen of the glacier, she’d witnessed the iciest parts of this world.
What I’d seen struck a chord. And if she was nervous… I tugged on my collar, anxious heat swarming the back of my neck.
Dropping my voice to a whisper, I added, “I don’t think this was an avalanche. I think it was an attack.”
With the way her nostrils flared, it was obvious a part of her thought that, too. The real question was whether she’d confront it or continue to ignore it, like all the other broken parts of her kingdom.
“Very well.” A breeze wove through her long strawberry hair. “Stelpths, gather a troop. Be discreet. We don’t need everyone knowing about this.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The queen rounded on me. “Is that it, Angel of Water?” She tilted her head. A command gleamed in her bright eyes.
“Yes,” I lied. That menacing, ancient laugh still echoed in my mind.
Her gaze narrowed, as if she could hear it, too.
“So, that favor of mine.” I pursed my lips. “Can we mark it complete?”
“You ruined my road,” she muttered under her breath, passing me with a thick swish of her skirts.
I bit back a satisfied smile. “Would you prefer that or the castle?”
Shaking her head, she strode to the elves installing the ladders, her nosy court flocking to her side.
Gunnar gently nudged me with his elbow. “Dude.”
I turned to the elven guard, the muscles in his jaw tight. “Dude what?”
“Now that you’re safe and bandaged up, I have a bone to pick with you.” He pointed at the snowcapped rocks, finger stabbing the air. “You went up into the highlands, alone?”
“Yeah? I was saving your kingdom.” I crossed my arms, holding them as if that could hold all of me together.
He closed the short distance between us, powder wafting from each strong thud of his boots. “You could’ve easily gotten lost, killed by another slide, or entered the wrong cave and been a troll’s lunch.”
“You’re being dramatic,” I said. The scent of him, open tundra and roasted chestnuts, swirled around me as he stopped just shy of my chest. “You said yourself you used to go up there and explore. What’s the difference?”
“I’m an elf. I was born in this land,” he gritted out. I watched him try to rein in whatever temper had bubbled up. He drew in a deep breath, his eyes softening. “I know every nook and cranny, story and spirit of those mountains. Most importantly, I know when to stay back.”
Our pupils locked. “The queen made it seem like it was no big deal.”
“Of course she did. It’s the queen.”
Fair point.
“When are you going to stop treating me like a kid?”
“When are you going to stop being so reckless?”
For ten rapid heartbeats, we glared at each other, tension coiling in my stomach, in our shoulders, in the air. There was something on the wind, something electric, as if lightning might strike at any moment.
“People care about you,” he finally said, a ragged jumble of words. “You’re what we call a skaert ljós.”
“What does that mean?” My voice was no more even.
“Someone that makes things better. Literally, a… bright light.”
My chest went tight. It was beautiful and thoughtful, and I was a storm cloud; I was rain and thunder, not sunshine or a cloudless day. But I quickly said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Immediately, his forehead smoothed. “Next time at least call for backup. We’re trained for this. We can help.”
A rogue snowflake landed on his lip. Fists tight at my sides, I resisted the urge to wipe it away. Metal splitting wood pierced the silence—people rebuilding, although for a second, it had felt like just us in our own little snow globe.
“Right.” Gulping, I took a shaky step back. The shrill buzz of an electric saw drilled into my ear. “Next time, I’ll ask.”
Cheeks heating, I spun around, my insides somersaulting. My foot skidded, and I tumbled to the frosted ground, ass hitting the ice first. Ow.
Gunnar moved with shocking speed, at my side before I could blink. One firm hand steadied my shoulder; the other pulled me up.
Another gentle touch. More undeserved kindness. And my pulse, racing again.
“You good? Should I call back the medic?”
“Yeah, yes.” I nodded, lungs working to catch the wind that’d been knocked out of them. “I mean no. Train with you soon? Later? Tomorrow?”
When he didn’t answer quickly enough, and his brow only quirked, eyes skimming my face like they were holding a different question, the heat caught up to me, and I stumbled out of his hold.
Grasping the rough wall for support, I scurried away.
Okay. Sure, I think he said, but his voice was muffled by the construction, the commotion and, loudest of all, my pounding heart.