Chapter 40 Greta
Greta
Greta woke just before dawn to a sharp knock on her bedroom door.
She sat up in bed, rubbing the ache from her chest. That strange dream had invaded her sleep for the second night in a row, dragging her down to the lost mining tunnels of the Fovarr Mountains, where she had found herself staring into a pair of huge, glittering eyes.
She blinked, reminding herself where she was: her bedchamber in Grinstad Palace.
On the day of the king’s wedding.
That knock came again, more urgent now.
Outside, the wind was whipping up. Greta hopped out of bed and fetched her robe as the ground began to rattle.
Another avalanche.
A glass of water slid from her desk and shattered at her feet as she swung the door open, hoping, despite everything, that it would be Alarik standing on the other side.
For a moment, her eyes betrayed her. A tall figure stood before her, his blonde hair flickering in the lamplight. She blinked, her heart sinking.
‘Elias.’ Shock coloured her voice. ‘What on earth is going on?’
The king’s spymaster braced himself against the door frame, a look of such urgency on his face, it made her heart gallop. ‘It’s the beast in the mountain. It’s breaking out. It’s going to destroy everything. When it makes it to the palace, it will kill the king.’
Panic rose, thick and fast in Greta’s chest. Elias was right.
Why would a beast in such pain show mercy to the king who had ignored its suffering – its pleas – these past few months?
It would destroy their beasts, too. The soldiers and the servants, and all the guests who had already gathered here for the wedding, and were sleeping obliviously in their beds.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. It was the king’s wedding day. In a few hours, the noblefolk of Halgard would descend on Grinstad, joining the oldest and most important families in Gevra in celebration. The palace would be teeming with royalty.
‘Does the king know—’
‘There’s no time,’ Elias cut in. ‘He’d only stop us, anyway.’
Greta offered no argument. Elias was right. Alarik would never let her go into that mountain now. Not if the beast was tunnelling its way out. Tor would stop her, too, offering himself in her place.
No, she could not allow it.
‘You need to get inside those mountains and wrangle it.’ Elias echoed her thoughts. ‘Now.’
There was no other way.
‘Give me a moment to get dressed. I’ll be right out.’
‘I’ll wait,’ he said, stepping back into the hallway. ‘I can show you the way.’
She summoned a grim smile, grateful for the spymaster’s bravery … that she would not have to go into the mountains alone.
Greta moved about her bedchamber in a blur, careful not to nick her feet on the shattered glass. Her thoughts were reeling. Although resolute in her task, doubt nagged at her.
She was about to betray a direct order from her king.
Alarik, the man she loved.
Alarik, who had chosen another.
Alarik, who would never belong to her.
Yesterday had been torture, the hours of indecision feeling slow and endless while she paced the forest, wrestling with the choice before her: to stay and love the king from afar, or to leave and make a new life for herself far beyond the bounds of Gevra.
But when Greta thought about it in earnest, she could not stomach the thought of leaving this land or its creatures.
She did not need Alarik’s love to survive here.
She could love his beasts, and dwell in their love in return, devoting herself to the kingdom that had raised her to be kind and fearless, to live and thrive with the song of the wild in her blood.
It was not a perfect life. And it was not the one she truly craved in her heart, but it would be enough for Greta.
This place, and these creatures. This king, who had prised her heart open and taught her how to love the man in him, just as fiercely as the beast. She could not hate him for it.
She would not leave him for it, even if he couldn’t love her back.
And this morning, on the day he would pledge his life to another, she would do everything in her power to save him.
To save everyone.
Even if it cost her everything.
After pulling on her trousers, she quickly dressed in her warmest frock coat and braided her hair down her back. She donned the breastplate of her armour, grabbed a dagger and some lamb strips, a roll of bandages and a waterskin, and stuffed them into her satchel.
With Elias leading the way, Greta slipped outside into the frigid morning air and hurried around the side of the palace.
Candlelight flickered in the lower windows, as the servants rose to prepare for the king’s wedding.
There was still much to do, and even though a part of Greta was afraid of the task that lay ahead of her, she was glad, at least, that she would not have to hear the violins serenading Princess Elva down the aisle or smell the midnight lilies that filled the halls.
The ground shook, scattering frost across her boots as they hurried across the front lawn.
At a stern order from Elias, the palace guards opened the black gates, and they stalked on, towards the mountains, where mounds of fresh snow made a wall across the base of the slopes.
They kicked their way through it, Greta’s teeth chattering viciously as she raised her oil lamp above her head.
After several minutes, they came to a familiar crevice on the other side of the wall. It was much wider than before. One of several that now sluiced through the vast mountainscape. Elias was right. The rock was splitting open, the peaks groaning as they began to cave in on themselves.
The beast had fallen quiet. It must have sensed they were drawing nearer.
‘How far down is it?’ she asked, as they slipped inside the mountain, giving themselves over to the damp, cloying dark.
‘That’s for you to figure out.’ Elias’s eyes flickered behind the flame of his lamp, as he stood back, ushering her in front of him. ‘Lead the way, wrangler.’
Greta frowned at the new edge in his voice. The fear in it had vanished, replaced by a strange kind of anticipation.
‘Move,’ he said, bouncing now on the balls of his feet. ‘Do your job.’
Unease trickled through Greta. For a moment, she thought about turning back. A part of her urged her to return to Grinstad, to wake Alarik and her brother, and tell them what she was planning, but then a familiar keening sounded from deep within the mountain.
The tunnel trembled.
Elias shifted, blocking the light from outside. ‘If you turn back now, you’ll damn us all.’
Steeling herself, Greta went into the darkness.
Water dripped from the walls and plinked at her feet as she meandered through the tunnel, following the thread in her chest. They journeyed deeper and deeper, until the rest of the world faded away and the only light came from their flickering oil lamps.
When the tunnel narrowed and the ceiling sloped, Greta sensed they were close.
She got down on her hands and knees and crawled.
Elias followed her lead, his breath hitching in the silence.
On and on, inch by inch, they went into the underside of the mountain, and further still, down into the frozen bowels of the earth, where the ground was so cold her fingers went numb.
‘Can you hear me, ancient one?’ she whispered to the squalid dark.
There came an answering huff from somewhere in the narrowing distance and then a burst of light so sudden and bright, Greta thought she was dreaming. It was followed by an immense blast of heat. It knocked her backwards, her head knocking against Elias’s chest.
She quickly righted herself, blinking through the pain to find the light was fading. But the warmth remained, and with it, curling plumes of silver smoke.
Dragon fire.
When she glanced at Elias over her shoulder, a terrible chill went through her.
The spymaster’s eyes were dark as midnight, his smile sharp and gleaming. ‘Regna was right about you,’ he said, with a low, silky chuckle. Gone was the mask of terror he had worn back in the palace, the worry he had feigned for his king. ‘You were the answer all along.’
‘What do you know of Regna’s opinions?’ she said, warily.
His smile grew. ‘I know she wants her dragon back. And you’re going to help me return it.’
Greta curled her fists to keep her hands from shaking. ‘And if I refuse?’
‘It’s not like anyone will find your body down here,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘Although I’m sure the mystery of your disappearance will haunt my arrogant brute of a cousin for life.’ A pause then, his expression turning thoughtful. ‘Until I find another way to end it, I suppose.’
Horror suffused Greta. As she sat crouched in the tunnel, with nowhere to go but into the fire, a startling thought occurred to her: here was another beast she had not counted on.
Elias, the spymaster.
Elias, the turncoat.
Danger faced her from both sides. Dragon and traitor. In that moment, she wasn’t sure which one she was more afraid of.