Chapter 40
The relief was almost too much.
Charlie fell to her knees on the marble floor, head slumping forward. With a panicked “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mason grabbed her shoulders, steadying her so that she didn’t fall completely over.
It had hit her all at once: the alcohol, the lack of food, the lack of sleep, the immense energy expended performing magic she’d never even trained to do.
She’d been running on pure adrenaline, fueled by the unstoppable force that ignited within her whenever she had a goal to achieve.
Now, the goal was finished, along with the adrenaline that came with it.
She was exhausted.
“It’s okay,” Mason said, squatting beside her. “It’s over now. You’re going to be fine.”
Charlie couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking as much to himself as to her. Trying to convince himself that she hadn’t actually done what she did.
But she had. In front of Loki’s entire court, Charlie had pledged to become a mare and serve at the god’s whim.
For how long, she had no idea; she hadn’t exactly read the fine print before signing her life away.
In all likelihood, Mason would try to find a way to save her from going through with it, but Charlie didn’t have the energy to think about that right then.
She had no more schemes, no more tricks or tactics. She was tired.
She was so, so tired.
Elias was safe. Two mare guards had lifted his body up and, after much pestering by Charlie, informed her that they were bringing Elias to his quarters to rest and recuperate.
Now, she wanted nothing more than to find the nearest bed and collapse onto it.
To sleep for three days straight. Recharge.
Then, perhaps, she would be ready to face the fate that she’d chosen for herself.
The universe had other plans.
“You fulfilled your promise to the girl,” came a high-pitched, nasally voice from behind her. “It’s time for her to make good on her end.”
Standing, Charlie turned slowly around. At the edge of the crowd was a nasty-looking vittra. Or, more accurately, she realized as she squinted at its skin, a nasty-looking spirit of a vittra.
When she’d first entered the great hall, Charlie had noticed no difference between creatures here and those you might find up on Asgard.
Everyone had been cast in that strange orange glow filtering in through the windows; they all looked a little hazy and spectral.
Not to mention that all her focus had been on getting Elias to Loki.
It was only when she finally took the time to study the vittra before her, that she saw it: the shimmer, the translucence.
So subtle, so easily missed, it seemed hardly there at all. But it was.
The vittra was slightly see-through.
As she cast her eyes out over the rest of the crowd, she realized that everyone in attendance was slightly see-through. It was a room full of souls, of creatures who had spent their time with the living and now resided with the dead.
When she glanced down at her arm, she half expected to find her own skin translucent, too. But it wasn’t. It was the same as ever: pale, freckled, an oblong birthmark just under her index finger.
It was almost reassuring to see her own solidity.
“It’s not like the humans will miss her,” the vittra went on. “She’s a particularly nasty girl, this one.”
Charlie blinked at the goblin. Why was he speaking as if he knew her personally? She had traveled through space and time to a different realm; what were the odds that she’d encounter someone she knew?
The vittra cackled, a disgusting, high-pitched noise, like a pot full of mice being boiled alive. “You don’t even recognize me, do you? Of course you don’t. We vittra all look the same to you humans—even when you’re trying to murder us from up in a tree.”
Recognition washed over Charlie, along with a potent sense of dread.
This vittra was the very same creature she’d tried to murder during training.
She might not have been the one to actually kill him—that credit went to Vidar and his axe—but the icy tone of the vittra’s voice left no mystery as to whom he blamed.
From up on the dais, Loki said, “Why the rush, friend? We’re in the middle of a good party. Surely the Trial can wait until we’re done feasting.”
“Why wait?” the vittra snarled, smiling to reveal gray fangs dripping with slobber. “I think it needs to happen right now. Unless there’s some reason you want to protect this human in particular?”
It was a dangerous and leading question. The vittra—and probably many, many others in the court—had seen Loki’s bizarre reaction to Charlie entering the room and was now digging for information. For weaknesses.
That was the first indication to Charlie that Loki’s power over the underworld might not be as absolute as he pretended.
The question dangled between Loki and the goblin as a challenge. Show us you care about this human, the vittra’s smile seemed to say. Show us we can use her against you.
At last, Loki laughed, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course there isn’t,” he said. “I’ll hold the Trial whenever I want. And if my people want it now, who am I to disappoint?”
Claps and whistles of approval swept the audience. The vittra narrowed his ugly eyes but clapped along with the rest.
“Let us head to the chamber straightaway. As always, anyone who wishes to spectate is welcome. And for the rest of you”—Loki clapped twice, and new golden pitchers appeared atop all the tables—“more mead! The evening has only just begun!”
At that, the audience cheered.
Charlie couldn’t help but feel it was the soundtrack to her demise.
Charlie walked numbly behind Loki through the halls of the palace, Mason at her side, Henry cuddled into her neck. An army of the dead following in their wake.
The palace’s main passageways were carved of the same gray-white stone that made up the exterior of the castle.
They were fifteen feet across and at least thirty feet high, with arched ceilings inset with wrought-iron torches.
The torchlight acted as secondary illumination to the light streaming in through the high glass windows.
Charlie had expected to find the familiar orange haze from outside filtering in the windows, but their panes were made of sapphire-blue stained glass, which cast everything in an eerie, ethereal glow.
“Char,” Mason whispered for the fifth time since they’d left the huge hall, “you don’t have to do this. There’s still time. We can find another way. Another bargain to strike with Loki, or—”
“There is no other way,” Loki interrupted without turning around. “Your sister pledged herself into my service in front of the entire court. If she doesn’t go through with it, there will be repercussions.”
“What sort of repercussions?” Mason asked, voice snappy.
Loki didn’t answer.
His silence unsettled Charlie more than whatever terrifying answer he was holding in.
About a third of the party had opted to watch Charlie become a mare. Their translucent bodies strolled merrily down the passage, chattering in a dizzying multitude of languages and passing gold coins back and forth.
It took Charlie a few glances to realize that they were placing bets.
“What are they betting on?” she asked, keeping her voice low enough that only Mason and Loki could hear.
“Your life,” said Loki. He sounded neither happy nor sad—only wildly indifferent. “Not everyone survives the Trial.”
Charlie’s whole body went cold.
“Nope.” Mason skidded to a halt, grabbing Charlie’s wrist so that she had to stop, too. “Absolutely not. We’re not taking another step toward that chamber.”
Behind them, the front row of the mob came to a halt. Souls cursed as they ran into the beings in front of them.
Transparent, but still corporeal, Charlie noted.
Loki stopped walking, placing a hand on his hip and heaving a long sigh. He sounded downright bored, as if this whole errand was a huge imposition on his day.
At last, he turned, landing the full force of his gaze on Charlie and Mason. Those eyes—Charlie shivered every time she saw them. So foreign and so familiar all at once.
“I’m afraid you have no choice,” Loki said.
“You see, becoming a mare is not as simple as my waving a hand and turning your sister into a magical creature. There are three essential steps: the Bargain, the Trial, and the Separation, all of which are built upon what the spirits call skuggmagi—shadow magic.”
“I don’t know what any of that means,” Mason said flatly.
“Of course not,” Loki said, sneering. “You don’t know anything about Helheim. And neither does your sister. I bet she didn’t even know when she blurted out her pledge to me that her words would be magically binding.”
Frigid air rushed down Charlie’s spine.
“What?” Mason shook his head. “Magically binding? How can she perform magic without knowing it?”
“Because she didn’t perform magic; magic acted upon her.
In the Bargain—the first step to becoming a mare—the human offers me their terms, and I either accept or reject them.
If I accept, the Bargain is automatically sealed with skuggmagi.
” A strange expression flickered through Loki’s eyes.
“From that moment, Charlie and I were both bound to fulfill our ends of the Bargain—or face the repercussions.”
There was that word again.
“I fulfilled my end. An incredibly selfless gesture on my part, if you ask me. Most mares have to wait until their service is up before I grant them what they asked for. Charlie got her reward before spending even one second as a mare. Now she needs to fulfill her end.”
“Or face the repercussions,” Mason said in a startlingly accurate imitation of Loki’s voice. “Right. You still haven’t mentioned what those are, though.”
“Death,” Loki said, speaking directly to Charlie. “The consequences are death.”
Silence settled between them. Charlie heard whispers and the clink of more gold coins exchanging hands from behind.