Chapter 5
5
Shalendra hid in the far corner of the cell, her hand wrapped around Castien’s. The rioting inside the prison’s walls had been going on for two days, at least by her estimation. How is time relevant when darkness reigned over the days and nights?
A loud bang sounded down the hall, followed by someone running as heavy boots clomped against the stone floor. Thankfully, they were moving in the opposite direction. From the horrid sounds and heart-stopping screams coming from the surrounding cells, she and Castien had been forgotten. She wanted to remain that way.
“What do you think is happening, Castien? Has Ashia found out anything?”
“Only what we already know. The mountain is under siege, and several packs of werewolves have shown up, a good number fighting on both sides.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Werewolves? Do you think my father is here?”
“Truthfully, my friend, I have no idea. She says one group is all black and fighting for the king. The other group has mixed colors with an all-white werewolf in charge. They are with the dwarves, so your father could be among them.”
“No, my father would be leading them. He told me about an all-white werewolf who has sworn allegiance to Raisa. He saved her life during the war on Midgard, and then she turned around and saved him.”
“How romantic.”
“Umm, no. It wasn’t like that at all. His name is Kazimir Fedorov, and he is her sworn protector. Raisa married Ailuin Vakas.”
“The Elven co-regent in Alfheimr?”
She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her without Ashia’s blue light. “Yes, the same.”
“Hmmm, I wonder, since we’re sort of cousins and all, if the co-regents would outlaw being gay like the dwarf king has here?”
“Well, we will just have to ask them. I will vouch for you if that helps. You’re a good person and an even better friend. If they have any reservations, though, you could move to France and live with me. You would like it there. Time is faster in our realms, by quite a few centuries, but we can study Freyja’s God’s Glass to figure out the best time for you to live on Midgard.”
She thought a moment. “During World War II, late 1930s to 1945, you would have been sent to one of the Nazi concentration camps. Maybe attitudes change by 2020 or thereabout, but we will research first. You may have to go to 2030, just to be certain you’re safe.”
“Thank you, Shalendra.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her over in a hug, kissing her cheek. “You are an extraordinary person, you know that? No one has ever accepted me for who I am and not who they think I should be, so that means everything.”
She patted his warm hand, liking the shared heat. She loved that she didn’t have to worry about giving him the wrong idea and that she, too, could be herself without worrying about how he would take it. It was refreshing. “I’m just me—” Another loud crash cut her off, and her body jerked. Listening to the stealthy noise as it crept down the hall, fear churned inside her. Something moved closer to their cell.
Put your hands together—Castien’s on top and Shalendra’s on the bottom. Press my stone between the palms of your hands and open your mind to mine. Hurry! He’s almost here!
Neither questioned Ashia’s demand and did as she said. Shalendra blocked everything from her mind except the ethereal black-haired woman she had met earlier. Fixating on Ashia's beautiful face, the incredible bloodstone blocked the evil presence. A nearby cell door slammed shut, followed by several more, making her jump with each impact.
You are both safe.
Shalendra removed her hand from Castien’s tight grip. He straightened one leg and slipped the stone into his pant pocket, and the soft light disappeared. “Did you feel that? It felt so evil.”
“I did.”
“What do you think it wanted?”
“I’m not sure, but Ashia shielded us, so whatever it was couldn’t sense anything but an empty cell. It’s how I’ve stayed safe for so long in these dungeons. Most prisoners are dead after a day or two. For some reason, I don’t think it wanted us, though. At least, not completely. Through Ashia, I sensed that it searched for someone specific, but there was a hesitation, almost as if it didn’t know who it was looking for.”
“It was looking for the female,” a deep male voice said inside their cell.
“Who are you?” Castien rested his hand on Shalendra’s arm with a gentle squeeze. She pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything and waited for the person to respond.
“My name is Cyran. Cyran Daralei.”
A hard shiver slammed through her body, and her hair stood on end. The sensation was sensual as it slid through her. His voice was so deep and sultry... She willed him to speak again.
“I was sent here to rescue you.”
Laughter burst from her like a cannon. Neither male spoke as she forced herself to stop, a few stray snickers escaping from behind her hand as she tried to regain some composure. “I’m sorry, but that was priceless. I mean no disrespect, whoever you are, but you need to find a new profession. Rescues don’t seem to be working out for you since you’re now imprisoned like we are.”
“Oh, but am I?”
A shimmery light flickered in front of her and formed into the shape of a man. Lifting her face, she realized he was tall and exceptionally well built. She and Castien scrambled to their feet and faced him as his body solidified.
“How did you do that?” Castien moved his head to one side, trying to peer around the newcomer as Ashia's faint blue glow highlighted his face. “The door is still closed and locked. How did you get in here?”
“Magic,” the man said.
She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the stranger’s shadowed face. She could not make out the small details, such as his hair color or eyes, but she saw enough of everything else. He was as tall but stockier and thicker in the chest, arms, and legs than most elves.
Her pulse kicked up a notch as her gaze roamed back up his luscious body, and her vision seemed to sharpen. She could now make out more details, like how his black pants hugged his legs and the tightness of his black shirt, every tiny movement emphasizing the defined muscles underneath. Her best friend, Soliana, would describe him as yummy .
His hair reminded her of a toasted caramel shade. It parted in the middle and then again, centered with the middle of each brow and pulled back in long braids. The lower portion remained loose with several long strands draped over one shoulder. His brows were a shade darker than his hair, and his skin wasn't as pale as most elves, showing a life lived in the sun. He was so very handsome, but his blue-green eyes held her captive. They were magnificent.
“Who are you—really?” she asked.
He raised one brow. “I told you. My name is Cyran Daralei. Lamruil and Ailuin sent me to rescue you and your friend. I will say it was relatively easy getting in here. The trick will be how to get you out. There’s an all-out war going on in the castle.”
“Probably has something to do with the new demon on the block impersonating the king who’s MIA.” Castien grinned. “Always a good day when things are topsy turvy.”
Cyran frowned at him. “And you are?”
Shalendra moved closer to Castien and threaded her arm through his. “This is my friend, Castien Bloodminer.”
“Bloodminer—any relation to Voron Bloodminer?” Cyran asked.
Castien nodded. “My grandfather. My father didn’t favor mining for gems and, instead, created jewelry.”
“If I remember, Voron was very talented at finding opals and a few earth minerals.”
Castien smiled. “Okay, Cyran, how did you know my grandfather?”
“I knew of him through my stepfather. He would come once a month, like clockwork, for a pain spell to help when he had to go deep underground. Evidently, it’s hard work?”
“We must move the earth with mental and physical strength while tuning in to whatever stone we’re hunting for, so strenuous is a great description. My grandfather retired a few years ago so he and my grandmother could travel. They love world-hopping and have a small hut on some island on Midgard and an ice cave on J?tunheimr where they spend a month during our summer. I’ve never seen them so happy, which is nice, considering.”
“Considering?” Cyran’s glance moved between Castien and her.
“Well, my father was on the wrong side of the war. As a dwarf, he was supposed to support our cause, liberation and all, but he liked the job security it gave, even without our freedom, so my grandfather disowned him. And then there’s me. I’m in prison because I’m attracted to men, not women, although if I were to fall for one, it would be Shalendra. She’s not only beautiful, but she is an amazing person.”
Shalendra smiled up at him, his words warming her heart. “Thank you for that. You’re adorable too. You will make some man very happy one day.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Cyran muttered. “Way too much syrupy sweetness in here at the moment.” He turned his head, tilted as if listening to something. “From the sudden lack of noise from above, the fight has either moved outside the prison or it’s over. If it’s over, we will have a bit of trouble escaping.”
“I vote for moving outside,” Shalendra said. “Can we use your magic to escape like you arrived?”
Cyran shook his head. “Sorry. It doesn’t work that way, although I could try to modify the spell and see how that goes. Like any other prison, it’s easier to get in and next to impossible to get out.”
“No thanks. I’ve seen the results of meddled magic. It wasn’t pretty.”
“I agree. Now, once you are outside, Shalendra, we will head for the forest, where I have friends who can apparate you out of here.”
Shalendra met Castien’s gaze. She wasn’t going to leave him behind. He would be coming with her no matter what she had to do. “Us. Once we are out of here.” She sent her newfound friend a sweet smile. “Castien goes where I go.”
“Thank you,” Castien whispered.
“Again? You two are pathetic.” Cyran turned, hiding the warring emotions inside of him. She drew him like a moth to a flame, but watching her stare at another male made him angry. But why?
He had no desire to attach himself to a female. At least, not now. There were too many things he wanted to experience in his life, but since elves enjoyed long lives, he had plenty of time to find his mate if she existed.
Some elves never found their mates, and others never should have married. His parent's marriage was a great example. No love, lots of arguing, and murder. No, he did not want a relationship with anyone anytime soon. He had too many adventures he wanted to experience.
Listening, the sounds of a far-off battle trickled down to their level, but he couldn’t tell how close it was to them. He walked to the cell door and laid one hand over the wrought-iron lock. With a simple unlocking spell, the tumbler turned with a loud clang, and the door swung open.
“Where were you several weeks ago?” Shalendra grumbled behind him, almost on his heels as he entered the hall. “And why can’t you just apparate us out of here?”
“To answer your first question, by Elven time, I was holding down the fort in Alfheimr for Lamruil and Ailuin while they helped your cousin, Bernard, right the wrongs he created during Midgard’s second world war. Midgard time, it would have been centuries, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he continued. “Regarding the second question, there is a magical ward over the mountain. No one can apparate in or out unless you know the counterspell or have access to a cheat spell, which I could only use to gain entrance. It would take me too long to figure out the counterspell, so we will do the next best thing.”
“Since I live on Midgard, I know about the war, but I don’t know the details about what Bernard did. émilien…sorry, my father—that’s so hard for me to get used to saying—tries to keep me isolated from the bad things in life.”
He turned and caught her somewhat amused expression as she glanced around the hall and noticed a smudge of dirt on the side of her nose. His finger itched to wipe it off. While her beauty was evident, she had not escaped the ravages of prison. Her black tights were covered in either dirt or spider webs, and her long-sleeved shirt had holes in each sleeve, and one side hem was partially torn.
“Little did he know….” She chuckled, bumping into him when he stopped to open the door to the outside. “Sorry. He never could have foreseen I would end up in a Dwarven prison. So much for me being safe.” She tried to stifle the laughter but failed. After a minute of all-out mirth, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I turned out well, didn’t I?”
He stared at her, a crooked grin on his face. He liked her openness, which surprised him. Neither Hel nor émilien was open, much less expressive. Hel was stoically silent and émilien growled. No, she was nothing like her parents and reminded him more of Freyja and Idunn.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Castien asked as Cyran peered around the door.
Seeing nothing down another long hallway, he stepped through the door and motioned for them to follow him, the sounds of fighting drawing closer. “Nope.”
“Helpful, isn’t he?” the dwarf complained.
“Well, he hasn’t been here before, so give him a break. I’m sure he’s following the sounds of battle so we can join in and disappear in the melee.”
“Very good.” Cyran gave Shalendra an appreciative glance. “You are your father’s daughter, although Hel would take offense to that statement. She is a soldier in her own right, considering who her father is.”
“Who’s her father?” Castien's gaze moved between them.
“Loki. Loki is my grandfather.” Shalendra answered with a flat tone. “He’s the main reason I never knew my mother growing up. She was terrified he would find out about me and take me for whatever power I had. I was also allergic to Helheimr, so I couldn’t live there anyway.”
“I have never heard of someone being allergic to an entire realm.” Castien chuckled. “What happened—you sneezed a lot?”
Her pretty face scrunched in disgust as she glared at the dwarf behind her. “Really? No. Living in Helheimr sucked away my energy and my powers. I almost died. The only option was for my father to take me to Midgard. His brother, Olivier, and his wife, Jessica, already lived in France, so it seemed like the natural solution for us to live there too.
Since my mother was charged with ruling Niflheimr, she had to stay there, which added another layer of protection for me from her father. Loki is so twisted. Just when you think he may be turning a new leaf and acting right, he does something stupid for more power—at least, he tries. He never succeeds but does end up hurting a lot of people.”
“Great.” Castien groaned. “My best friend has a psychotic grandfather. Sadly, I believe I met him a long time ago. Anyone else in your family tree I should know about?”
“Yep. My maternal uncle is Fenrir.”
A choking sound came from the darkness spreading out behind her. Her gaze rose to meet Cyran’s, who fought to hide his grin. He could like this female. Intelligent, pretty, and had a wicked sense of humor. She was just his type…that is, if he were looking for a specific type. And he wasn’t.
It was odd, but she seemed to glow in the darkened hall. Her thick black braid rested over one shoulder. His gaze lowered to her narrow waist, dirty tights accentuating her long, supple legs. Perfect legs. Still, if he were looking for a woman…
Shaking his head, he returned to the task at hand, which was finding the other female and the way out of the prison. “Where is your friend?”
“Excuse me? Oh, you mean Soliana? I don’t know where she is. When the dwarves captured us, we were separated. The imposter king mentioned her, so I know she is still alive. I can only assume she’s also imprisoned somewhere in this palace. I haven’t had the chance to roam about to find her.”
“Great. Locating her will be like looking for a spider in a woodpile. Why do I always get the impossible jobs?” He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, staring at the strange images carved into every surface. He listened, but no sounds came from the other side. “The fighting must have gone up into the main part of the palace because I don’t hear anything nearby.”
He glanced at Shalendra and the dwarf, both wide-eyed and apprehensive…not to mention dirty. The dwarf had smudges of what he hoped was dirt on his cheeks and hands. Shalendra had a few streaks, but it didn’t deter from her looks at all. She was still beautiful.
“What if it’s a trap?” She chewed on her bottom lip, evidence of her growing nervousness. “Something isn't right about all of this—the disappearing prisoners, the timing of the battle...”
“Gut feeling?” Cyran asked. She nodded. “Never ignore that because, most times, your instinct is trying to tell you something important. Can you tell me more about why you think this is a trap?”
“You,” she whispered, then covered her face with her hands. “Oh, I have no idea.”
He pulled her hands away and stared into the depths of her sapphire eyes. Even in the dim light, the glistening shades of blue reminded him of the gemstone. “What does my appearance have to do with any of this?”
Her hands went limp as he held her by the wrists. “I don’t have a clue. About three days ago, the guards would come down to our cell block and take a prisoner somewhere, but the prisoner never returned.”
“They might have been released.”
Castien let out a dry chuckle. “Not in this prison. Once here, no one ever returns to the outside.” His eyes widened as he turned to Shalendra. “I think I know how long the demon has been here.”
“Wait,” Cyran interrupted. “What makes you think there’s a demon here?”
“The prisoners are the key.” He glanced over at Cyran. “About a year ago, the king rescinded most of the laws he had created, and instead of a prisoner serving a certain length of time for whatever crime they had committed, no one ever returned to the village. Over the next few months, more and more villages reported the same thing. People were arrested, sentenced without a hearing, and never returned home.”
“So, you think the demon has been here that long?” she asked.
Castien nodded. “I do.”
“That still doesn’t explain why my appearance has anything to do with this,” Cyran’s glance moved from the dwarf to the elf, feeling as if he was getting only part of the story and didn’t like it.
“I think I might understand what she means.” Castien laid his hand on her shoulder. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the fighting began moments before you appeared. It’s like you were expected. No one inside this palace would dare go up against the king, never mind that he’s also a demon. The king is exalted in this realm. My people believe we were cursed because the king set himself up as a god, and the gods typically don’t like that.”
“A few of my friends would, indeed, take offense to that,” Cyran's gaze held Shalendra’s. “Including your mother.”
She smiled back, and some of the anxiety eased from her face. “True. My mother would be so offended.”
Realizing his fingers were still wrapped around her wrists, he let them drop. Grabbing the heavy, wrought-iron lever, he pulled down the end, releasing the door catch. “I’ve never shied away from a fight and don’t intend to start now. Let’s find out who’s behind this door, shall we?”