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She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Medda disentangled herself from the towel and patted her on the head. “S’okay, s’okay,” she murmured.
Anrid choked on a laugh that turned into another sob. The prince must think her a complete lunatic. She surreptitiously tried to wipe her nose on the shoulder of her dress. He said nothing and tugged her arm to prod her onward. They only went past a few closed doors before he stopped at an open one and stepped inside.
He touched something just inside that caused blue-green light to warm the dark chamber—a gemstone, she realized. Anrid wiped her cheeks and eased in behind him. A small bed greeted her along the far wall, carved out of the stone. She also glimpsed a wardrobe, a chair, and another sleeping cubby along the side wall.
“It isn’t much, I’m afraid, but the mattresses are decent. And the blankets are clean.”
She said nothing and moved straight for the bed and sank down with a groan of relief. More tears clawed at her throat, but she was determined to keep them at bay until she was alone. Jael set Medda on the bed beside her and handed her the crumpled shirt he had tucked under his arm.
“Will you two need anything?”
Medda was yawning and snuggling into her side, so Anrid shook her head. “Thank you,” she whispered when he was halfway to the door.
He faltered and half-glanced back, his face lined with shadows in the dimly lit room, but he said nothing else as he slipped away and closed the door behind him.
Medda was asleep before Anrid had the shirt pulled over her head. She kicked off her shoes, removed her apron, and climbed into bed alongside the little one.
She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Anrid stood in a room flooded with blinding light. No longer in bed, she had no recollection of how she had left it without her knowledge.
Once again, she stood in the Bifrost chamber.
Anrid spun in a circle, throat closing tight as she stared around. The cracks in the stone shone with a brilliance that almost blinded her. And there were more of them now, splitting the rock with such frequency she wondered how the walls didn’t crumble around her.
The magic thrummed and buzzed like an enraged hive of bees protecting their queen. She rubbed her arms and searched the room, half afraid she was about to get stung.
They are coming, voices whispered in her head.
She shuddered and hugged herself tighter. Her skin prickled with unease and the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. A sensation of being watched flooded her body.
Her feet moved against her will and brought her to the wall. She tried to stop herself, but her hand lifted and reached toward the crack, toward the glowing Bifrost within the rock and stone. Heat nipped at her fingers.
They are coming.
“Who?” she rasped. “Who is coming?”
Them.
“But who is it? Why are you telling me this? What do you want?” The questions spilled out of her. She might have continued demanding answers, but the voices muttered louder, repeating their warning.
For it was a warning, of that she had no doubt.
They are coming.
Soon her head ached from the screams. She felt as if they were pounding against the inside of her mind with invisible fists. The lights in the chamber grew impossibly bright. She squeezed her eyes shut to protect them from the piercing brilliance, one hand extended to shield her face. The air pressed against her on all sides, as if it had become flesh and blood and bone. The weight of it brought her to her knees. She curled onto her side, arms wrapped around her head to protect herself against an enemy she could not see or fight.
They are coming.
“Get out of my mind!” she sobbed, clutching her head as the agony became unbearable. The weight of invisible hands held her imprisoned in place.
Darkness crashed over her.
She awoke with wrenching force. No sound filled the stone chamber except her own ragged breathing. Her heart thundered at an alarming speed, her limbs frozen in terror. They refused to move. When she parted her lips, her mouth wouldn’t croak a sound either.
Logic screamed she needed to move and free herself from the hold of the nightmare. For it was a dream, she realized now, a terrible dream like the kind she had when she was a child. But her arms and legs still felt weighted down.
