Chapter 30 #2
Leaning over the table, she plucked something circular and sparkly from the clutter and placed it on my head: a diadem.
She spun me so I faced a mirror.
A soft gasp spilled from my glossy, pink lips. My hand brushed through my hair, the classic-looking waves spilling over my shoulders and the sapphire-studded straps of my dress.
“It’s beautiful, but…” I blinked, the thick extensions on my lashes causing it to come off as a dramatic bat of my eyes. “Is this the right attire for a cave?”
“For where you’re heading, yes,” she cooed, tucking a curl behind my ear. “We must go to Galdrahollin, the Hall of Mystics, now to conduct the ceremony. Kristjan will walk us to the elevator, from which I will escort you. Alone.”
My breath stopped in my chest as her reflection flitted out of frame. Alone. The queen was never alone. There was always a guard, or a courtier, or a handmaid.
“Come. We must make haste.”
Mouth pursed, I blew the air out of my lungs, even the smallest movement causing the fabric of my dress to ripple like liquid silver.
The hallway was silent. No words, no Eyes, no turn of the lock. The shadows seemed to follow behind us like living wraiths, swallowing our footsteps.
Glass panes of the Sky Tower’s windows arched overhead. Darkness covered the land. I glanced at a wall clock. Well past midnight. Suspicion knotted my stomach.
I was sure there were “reasons” we were creeping around the castle, and that this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but the silent presence of the elf queen at my back, a weight I could almost feel, drove me onwards and kept the concerns locked behind my lips—at least until I got to the archives.
Because when I returned from Jarearbaeli, I was going straight to Olivia, and we would confront Hildur on her secrets—her failing magic and her fallen kingdom—together.
Olivia. My heart cinched. I hoped she wasn’t starving. I’d promised cookies.
The elevator doors opened without command. Kristjan fell behind, a hunched form in the foyer, and then it was just the queen and me.
Alone.
The second my slippers crossed the threshold, the windowpanes shimmered to black. Enchanted to keep the location a secret. I don’t know why I was surprised. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. But still. My nerves mimicked my fists, curling tight.
I cleared my throat, making room for my voice. “Any last words for me?”
The corner of the queen’s lips quirked.
The car plummeted, only picking up speed, the wind an icy shriek.
Thin rivulets of water cut across the glass. It’d never gone this fast, this erratically.
My heart beat as if to escape my chest.
Something snapped and we lurched, and I could’ve sworn we were traveling sideways.
Flinging myself into a corner for support, I shouted, “Is this thing broken?!”
Hildur only stared ahead, her violet irises electric beads in the dark.
She probably couldn’t hear me. I could hardly hear myself, the harsh air sucking up my voice the second it left my mouth.
“Through misted veil and midnight gloom…” Her words were haunting, heavy. A promise. A presence.
“Lies an echo of an ancient tomb…”
Another bang, another jolt. Pushing my spine into a glass panel, I fought to stay standing.
She hadn’t moved.
“Where whispers linger, spirits roam…”
Tears beaded the corners of my eyes, the cold stinging as we dropped farther, faster.
“And a curse of old shrouds the land’s stronghold…”
Bile prickled the back of my throat.
I squinched my eyes shut.
“Centuries bound, now is time to unfold...”
We needed to stop. I needed to get out. Needed to…
“Blood and bone, the ancient toll.”
“Enough!” I thought, I screamed, I—I didn’t know.
Everything was spinning, everything was black, and then—everything stopped.
A low screech filled the air, followed by a swish of fabric. The ground shifted. Instantly, the space felt lighter, emptier. The doors opened.
Already the queen had paced ahead smoothly. Eyes burning, I scrambled after her, each breath thunderous in the silent hall. Other than the bronze door looming at the end—no handle, thick as a vault—this place was barren. And with no windows, it was impossible to tell where I was.
Hildur stopped halfway, turning abruptly.
“I smell the burning Tofratré. It lingers.” She sniffed the air. “The ceremony has started. I cannot go any further.”
When I raised my nose, it didn’t smell any different than the incense I’d been inhaling for the past few hours getting ready. “Oh. Okay.”
“Now go.” She pushed me hard, like I was a fledgling that’d stayed too long in the nest.
The corridor stretched before me, candles flickering in sconces, shadows wavering like a mirage. I didn’t hear the queen leave. My head grew light, fuzzy, the stench growing stronger, sweeter.
Finally, I reached the end of the hall.
My hand hovered above the door, the metal indented with whirling symbols and letters in a language I did not know.
Even before I touched it, it groaned open. A cloud of white smoke wafted out.
Pulse pounding wildly in my chest, my wrist, my throat, I said a prayer to whoever would listen. Maybe to my mom. But, most importantly, I cursed the Coffin Seeker, Flóki, the jelmadag, all who ever second-guessed me, because this was it.
I was going to Jarearbaeli.
And I wondered what version of myself I’d face.