Chapter 32
Brisk footsteps echoed around me, unbearable against the pounding in my head. And the ground, it was so cold, so hard. But of course it’d be: Gryla wasn’t in the business of making her captives comfortable.
I rolled to the side, the space next to me empty. My eyes fluttered open and shut.
“Ryder?” I rasped.
Black spots dotted my vision, and for a moment, I swore I was back in that dimly lit royal hall beneath the tall archways, curled up on the ivory stone.
Wait a minute.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I propped myself up on my elbows. My skirt splayed beneath me in a pool of liquid silk. The footsteps crept closer. I was in the castle. I’d made it back.
My heart pinched. Oh my God, I’d made it back.
With those ancient words I’d enacted elven law, and it’d ripped me from the spirit realm, bringing me… here. My fuzzy gaze scanned the cavernous space. No bird masks. No Ryder.
Where was he?
My stomach tumbled. Was he still stuck in there?
The click-clacks slowed, and I knew who was behind me.
Spine stiffening, I glanced over my shoulder, and there she was: all violet eyes and sharp cheeks and cunning lips. Royal, regal. The person who had just tried to sacrifice me.
She lowered herself into a crouch, diamonds shimmering off her cream corset. I didn’t so much as flinch when their bright and glittering reflection hit me in the eyes. “What did you do.”
Not a question. It was an accusation, mixed with disappointment and barely leashed anger.
Something dark and twisted stirred inside me.
“You bitch,” I said, hunched over my knees. “Where’s Ryder?”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that.” Her slim fingers pinched my chin, lavender gaze flaring bright. “I’m the queen, and you will give me your respect.”
“You’re no queen of mine,” I snarled. “Where. Is. He.”
“In his cell. Where he belongs.” A vein bulged in her neck; her hold on her temper was slipping. “For now.”
Relief swept through me—he’d made it back, too—but those last words cut it short.
Shoving me aside, she quickly straightened. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Me?” I pointed at my chest, flinching when I struck the bone a bit too hard. “What about you? Demons under the castle, unfair bargains, feeding souls to an immortal being you’ve locked away for over a century. You tried to sacrifice me! You gave me no other choice.”
She steepled her hands, fingertips pressing against her red lipstick. “You have no idea what it takes to rule a kingdom, to keep my people safe.”
“And part of that is choosing who lives and who dies?”
“Sacrificing the lives of a few to save the many from a bloody, pointless slaughter your kind will inevitably try to drag us into.”
“You’re not God.”
“No.” She barked out a laugh, cold and menacing. “But you’ve woken something much, much worse.”
“I know how it works.” Staggering to my feet, I grabbed the nearest column for support, fingers digging into the grooves. My body slumped against it, tender and shaky but ready to flee, as if I were still stuck in the Heimer Tofra. “You owe me a chance to fight for my freedom.”
“Then you also know it’s a public spectacle.
” Fingers laced behind her back, she did a slow circle around me, her emerald pants swishing with her long strides.
“You also know it’s a rite every being in the kingdom is called to attend.
You know they’ll cheer and pick sides, boo and eat popcorn, place bets on your life. ”
I… didn’t know that part.
The queen must’ve seen it on my face, but hers remained impassive, carved from stone. “And because you’re so well-versed in elven tradition, I’m sure you know your fate is now in the hands of the gods. The old gods. The fallen gods.”
My blood ran dry. Flóki had made it sound like my fate would be in Hildur’s hands. Not… I gulped. Not some ancient higher power. “Then I’ll win. I’m the Angel of Water.”
She tilted her head. “Dear girl, do you know who the old gods are?”
The clink of armor and the thrum of steady footsteps echoed through the hall.
A line of Eyes filed through the open door, helmets down, eyes slitted, jaws locked.
“What’s this?” I squawked, flinching back.
The queen’s eyes flicked to me. “Seize her.” With the simple command, they formed a tight perimeter, circling me.
Were my friends behind some of those helms? Could they see my wide eyes and paled face, hear the plea on my lips? Would they do anything to stop this from happening?
Firm hands clenched my biceps, biting into the muscles. Power crackled through me, but I was too weak, too groggy, and their grip was too tight, too sure.
My gaze snapped to Hildur. “You were never going to take me to Gaia, were you?”
Pursing her lips, she forced air out of her nose, as if the question annoyed her.
“What about Gunnar and Freyja? What about the war?” I bucked against the guards, their metal chest plates digging into my back. “What about your Galdur?”
“Who needs that when I have people like you to keep my kingdom from crumbling?” the queen said with lethal calm.
My heart dropped. People like me. Like Olivia, Ryder. They were next. I had to tell them, save them. “You can’t do this!” I yelled, fists slamming into the wall of armor around me.
Ignoring me, she nodded at the soldier on my right. “Gestapennar.”
As the guards bore me away, I twisted, shouting back, “I will win your sick game, mark my words. And when I do…” Gritting my teeth, I fought against the hard grip pinning me down, managing to lift a hand, a finger. I pointed it at her heart. “You better hold on tight to your crown.”