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So has Eitr. The mountain village is overrun by Forsaken and the varulv. They're everywhere, turning the home of the Fae into a stronghold of evil.
I hear Kenton and the Forsaken discussing what to do with me, but I don't care. I just float, lost in a sea of agony. It's not fair. How could fate bind my soul to Reaper's only to allow these monsters to use it against us now? If I die, he dies. And if I survive, it's only because the Fae turned Abigail over.
That is no choice. It's torment. For every single one of the Fae. They can no more make that choice than they can deny the goodness in their souls. They were born to defend the Valkyrie, not barter and exchange them. Damrion can't be asked to choose between the Seer he loves and one of his oldest friends and his mate. It's wrong.
But evil doesn't care. That's why it's evil. It's thoughtless, emotionless, soulless destruction. It thrives on pain and misery. Watching the struggles of its victims makes it stronger.
I don't struggle. I keep my head held high, refusing to shed a tear or say a word. I squirmed and begged enough when they pushed my head beneath the water over and over again in my bathroom prison, just to see how far they push me before I broke. I will never beg for my life again. Not from these monsters.
They decide to tie me up in one of the cabins close to the Hall of Warriors. Kenton is the one who takes me. The Forsaken can't seem to be bothered. Or perhaps, they fear getting too close now that they know that I know who and what I am.
Kenton doesn't say anything until we step inside the cabin and the door closes behind us. The cabin is a single room with a kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom all sharing the same cozy space.
The kitchen is small but tidy, with a few dishes and utensils scattered on the counter. The table has only two chairs. A worn couch and a coffee table create a simple and comfortable seating area. A large bed takes up most of the space.
My eyes immediately land on the woman handcuffed to it. She's a few years older than I am, her face framed by a halo of wild, fiery red hair. Her freckled skin is pale and bruised. Even unconscious, pain etches grooves between her brows.
"Valkyrie," I breathe, stunned. She's been here all this time? God, of course she has. My gaze flickers to Kenton. "The Forsaken sent Abigail the visions, didn't they?"
He says nothing.
"Who am I going to tell, Kenton? By this time tomorrow, I'll be dead," I say, laughing without mirth.
"We aren't going to hurt you," he says. "As soon as they make the trade, you'll be free to leave."
I laugh again. "They aren't making the trade. They will never make that trade. If you know anything about the Fae, you know that."
"Sit down." He points to a chair in the small kitchen.
I scowl daggers at him as I slowly cross to it and sink down.
He makes quick work of tying me to it.
"Her visions are her own," he says as he works. "But they've found ways to exploit them. If they want her to see a Valkyrie in a church, they simply send the Forsaken to the churches. She sees a Valkyrie tied up and Forsaken all over the churches, and her mind confuses the two."
I grunt as he jerks the ropes tight enough to cut off circulation before loosening them slightly. I don't want to believe his answer, but I think he's telling the truth. Which means the vision she had of a Valkyrie dying wasn't sent by the Forsaken. It's possible she saw my death and just didn't understand that the Valkyrie she was me.
A fresh wave of hopelessness crashes through me. I bow my head to hide the tears welling in my eyes.
Kenton finishes tying me to the chair in silence. "I'll check on you later. Don't do anything foolish. There are dozens of Forsaken right outside the door, and hundreds of varulv."
"You aren't going to drug me?" I ask when he strides toward the door.
His derisive laugh makes my blood boil. "Why? It's not like you even know how to reach your Light, let alone use it. You aren't a threat."
He's right. I'm not a threat, but I should be.
I spend hours trying to figure out how to reach my Light, simply to prove Kenton wrong. But nothing I try works. I'm as useless here as I was in Seattle.
It's maddening to be constantly at odds with my own abilities. Reaper's life depends on me figuring out how to save myself, but I can't even do that.
The thought of losing Reaper only fuels my determination as I hurl myself into the well again and again, refusing to give up. I can't give up. This isn't just about me—it's life or death for him. I won't let him die.
Kenton comes back to check on me once, offering to take me to the bathroom. I glare at him so viciously that he chuckles, holding up his hands.
"Suit yourself, Valkyrie," he says, making his way to the Valkyrie on the bed. She's barely even moved since I got here. But he blows that damn powder in her face anyway, keeping her drugged into submission.
Even from across the room, I smell the sickly-sweet scent and my stomach turns. "What is that?" I ask.
