Chapter Fourteen
Thor dropped into the upper hallway of the Raven Weaver, a few doors down from Elle's apartment.
He stared down the hall for several minutes, trying to formulate what he would say.
Apologies were a given. And let her tell him her story.
He was still conflicted over who she was, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive her, or his family, so quickly for deceiving him, but one thing was for sure- he couldn’t lose Elle.
Thor took a deep breath and walked to Elle's door. He lifted his hand to knock, but it stood ajar. The hairs raised on his arm. He knocked, and the door creaked open a few inches. No sound floated out of the darkness. He knocked again, and the door opened wider.
"Elle?" Thor waited. "Elle, it's Thor."
No reply.
He wondered for a moment if she'd gone down to the bar.
Thor stepped into the apartment. "Elle?"
He walked to the lamp and turned it on. His stomach dropped like he'd eaten a boulder. The table and chairs had been flipped. The couch pillows scattered across the floor, and Elle's high heels lay on either side of the kitchen area.
"Elle!" Thor tore through the apartment to the bedroom. The bed remained as disheveled as when he'd left.
"Elle!" He ran into the bathroom.
Nothing.
Thor rushed back to the hallway and down the stairs to the Raven Weaver. He stopped at the bottom and scanned the bar. He caught Heimdall speaking to Val and Loki and headed for them.
"Have you seen Elle?" he demanded.
Val jumped to her feet. "She's upstairs."
Thor shook his head. "Her apartment looks like there's been a fight."
Val fled quicker than Thor thought possible. Loki followed after.
"Can you see her?" he asked Heimdall.
Heimdall's eyes glazed over and turned white. They moved rapidly back and forth and then cleared. "She is on Muspelheim."
Shit.
Thor grabbed Mjolnir, but Heimdall laid his hand on Thor's arm. "Not here."
Thor glanced around at the mortals and headed for the portal.
He made it through, and Frigg spotted him.
"What's wrong?" she asked, moving to his side.
"Elle's been taken to Muspelheim."
A frightened expression planted itself on Frigg's face. "We need your father."
"I need to go. Who knows what is happening to her." He raised Mjolnir.
"Thor, wait." Frigg grabbed him. "You can't just show up there. You need your father."
"No," said Thor. "I need Elle." He threw his arm in the air and shot upward.
* * *
Elle stared out the window into the ashen fields of Muspelheim. In the distance, a volcano erupted, spewing ash and lava over the ground, much like Surtr had done the moment she'd set foot back in the castle.
It'd been Thadren's men who'd tracked her down and Thadren himself who had brought her back. Rather than be angry with her over her disappearance, he seemed amused. Surtr, however, had been anything but.
She'd only been spared a thrashing or death sentence because Thadren had promised to still take her as his bride. To which Surtr had immediately sent Elle to her room to be prepared for the wedding.
Elle stared off as the servants stripped her down and scrubbed her with coarse brushes. She didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her shiver from the cool water they used. She stood, head held high, staring out the window.
She had considered fighting them. Considered breaking out of the castle and making a run for it, but where would she go?
And more than that, what was the point? Thor hated her, and if she couldn't have Thor, it didn't matter what happened to her.
At least with Thadren, she knew what to expect.
And he'd not been violent to her like her father.
But if he was... well, she wasn't going to take the abuse anymore.
She may not be able to control her magic all the way, but she could control it enough to do some damage.
The servants pulled on white undergarments and a gown and tried to move Elle to a chair, but Elle resisted.
"If you want me to do something, you ask me," she snapped. "Politely. You don't shove me about like a farm animal."
The women looked at her, then at each other. One of them inclined her head.
"If you would sit, Princess Sutrelle, we will brush out your hair and braid it for you."
"You may brush it," said Sutrelle. "But I don't want it braided."
Again, the women nodded.
Sutrelle walked to the chair and sat, letting her long hair flow down her back.
The show of assertion had Elle ready to bite the skin off her fingers; instead, she looked down at her gown.
The iridescent dragonsilk fabric was some of the hardest in the nine realms to procure, and she was sure it hadn't been obtained by her father.
"Where did this dress come from?"
"Prince Thadren brought it for you."
"As a welcome home gift for your wedding."
Elle bit the inside of her cheek. She wondered if her father was aware he was marrying her off to someone so generous.
He could have married her off to any number of monsters like himself, but surprisingly, he hadn't.
Which meant one thing- Thadren was considerably more powerful than her father liked to admit.
"We've finished, Princess. Are you sure you wouldn't like us to braid it?"
Elle stood from the chair and walked back to the window. "No, thank you."
"Then we will take our leave if you don't need anything else."
The volcano continued to spew forth its destruction. If she got lucky, it would flow down to the border and destroy Muspelheim castle.
The door opened, and the two women's footsteps left as a heavy set of footsteps entered.
She didn't need to look to know one of her father's guards had come in to make sure she didn't try anything.
The most she could do now was take what she'd learned from Thor and Val and try to make the best of what was about to happen to her.
In the great hall, all the heavy stone tables had been angled sideways, and an aisle had been made through the center of them to the head table, where her father sat with Thadren.
The hall reeked of sulfur and roasted meat, the air so thick with heat it pressed against her bare arms like a second skin.
Torches of volcanic glass lined the walls, their flames shades of amber and deep crimson, throwing distorted shadows across the vaulted ceiling.
The stone floor radiated warmth through the thin soles of her slippers, each step a reminder that Muspelheim's fire burned beneath everything, always.
Rows of fire giants filled the tables on either side of the aisle- massive figures with skin like cracked basalt, their expressions a mixture of disdain and greed.
At the head table, Sutr occupied his throne like a mountain refusing to erode.
Surtr stood ten feet of menace, his skin split with veins of molten orange that pulsed at his jaw and knuckles.
His beard smoldered, each ember-tipped hair curling against the black of his breastplate.
Those burning eyes, twin furnaces set deep in a face carved from cruelty, fixed on her the moment she crossed the threshold.
The only difference in the hall, besides the layout, was the addition of a familiar, smaller silver throne that sat next to Thadren's.
Mother's throne.
She'd never been allowed to sit in it before. In fact, her father had hidden it away when she was young after seeing her playing on it once. She swallowed at the sight of it and wondered if things would have turned out differently for her if her mother had survived.
Thadren sat with his hands resting flat on the table, his posture a calculated display of ease.
But the moment he spotted her, he smiled, broad and toothy.
Not leeringly, but more genuine happiness at seeing her.
Maybe life with him wouldn’t be as painful as she thought it might.
If he actually held affection for her, she could use that to her advantage.
His muscular frame was packed into ceremonial armor of hammered bronze and dark iron, which creaked when he shifted.
His oiled, rust-colored beard had been braided for the occasion, threaded with thin chains.
The cracks along his jaw and throat glowed a dull orange, brighter than usual, though his expression remained pleasant.
Elle stood in the doorway awaiting instruction.
The familiar smell of men, sweat, meat, and fire made her stomach sour as a trickle of anxiety threaded through her stomach.
She wanted to get this over with. The one good thing about leaving with Thadren would be that she wouldn’t be subjected to the foul odor of her father’s house anymore.
After a minute, Thadren stood, and her father’s guard prodded Elle in the back with his sword. Elle rounded on him.
"Do not touch me," she said with enough venom to make Val proud.
The guard's eyes narrowed, but she continued to stare straight at him, daring him to do something. Her magic bubbled and churned inside her, swirling close to the surface, ready for her command, but the man looked away, and Elle turned back to the gathered crowd.
She needed to keep her wits about her. She couldn’t lose it now. If she lost control and her father saw what she could do… who knew what would happen.
What a wedding day. The same men who'd always looked down on her.
The same tables, food, and hall. No flower or piece of white cloth adorned the place to show that the day was more special than any other.
In the dress Thadren had procured for her, she felt considerably overdressed for her own wedding.
Surtr finally pushed to his feet, and everyone else followed suit. She assumed that was her cue to move. She took a deep breath and strode forward, head up, eyes straight on her father. He studied her with a mixture of anger and surprise.
Good. Let him be surprised. Let him see I won't allow him to treat me the same way anymore.