Sitting up, my stony gaze finds theirs.Stay the fuck out of my head.
Good morning to you, too, they respond with a dragony smirk.We want the same thing. You alone stand in the way.
My stomach churns, the peace of a moment ago replaced as I recall who I am. So I reclaim the monster I became, and always will be.We do not want the same thing, I bark.I will speak with you when I must. Only then.Shoving them out, I slam the door I’d somehow left open between my mind and theirs and flop down again.
We must kill them, Wrath snarls, claiming enough of our body to lift our head and glare at the dragon.You are mine alone.
We will,I assure him,when the time’s right.
Soon, he demands.
I don’t respond, loathe to start conversing with him as the purple beast tries to force their way into my head. The last thing I need is the two of them bickering in my mind while my skjaldmær barks at all of us.
I set all that aside and push to my feet. It’s time to move. Helheim calls and we’ve delayed too long already.
We’ve walked half a day or more when I recognize the area we’re entering. Dread starts to crawl up my spine. If Finaan is going to break away from me anywhere along this path, it’ll be here. Not because of fear, or anger. No, if she leaves me, it will be because not even the bond with her dragon is strong enoughto drag her away from this place. And that turnip beast could take her and fly right out of here, leaving me to return to Hel with the weasel alone. What a pathetic prize that would be.
I notice the change in her as we draw closer. Her steps are lighter, as if its energy calls to her. It probably does. I belong more to Helheim than this place, but even I can feel its allure. The others are silent behind us, perhaps as entranced by the world ahead as I always am when I come here.
“Where are we?” she asks after a few minutes, curiosity forcing her to speak with me for the first time today.
“Do you remember your promise to your dragon, my skjaldmær?” I ask instead of answering her question.
She turns her head, eyebrows drawn together as she gazes at me. “What does that have to do with anything?” she asks.
“It’s a simple question,” I push as I stride to Finaan’s side to walk with her. “What did you promise the dragon you treasure so much?”
“I didn’t promise her anything,” she tells me. “She asked me to stay with you and I agreed I would for a while. Nothing more.”
“She believes the turnip beast and I must accept our bond?” I prod.
“The turnip beast?” Finaan asks, trying to change the subject, I think. But I indulge her.
“I don’t care to speak their name,” I gripe. “They are the turnip beast. That’s what I’ll call them. Does your dragon believe the turnip beast and I must accept our bond?”
Finaan narrows her eyes, adorable little wrinkles appearing on her brow, as she leans away from me. “What are you getting at, Wregen?”
I don’t try to hold back my smile. It appears more often now, as I spend time with her. The first few pissed me off, but I’ve realized I don’t abhor the lightness she brings to me. I’m still Hel’s, but perhaps I can be Finaan’s too, when I’m with her.
If Hel will allow it.
“We’re about to pass into a place that will call to you. It does to me, despite my lifetime of service to Hel. The first time I saw it, I knew what it was to me. It asked me to stay, begged me, but I’d only served Hel a few decades then. It was easy to say no, return to my liege. After that, I knew what to expect, lifted my shields to resist the draw.”
Turning to her, I catch and hold her gaze. “We may have different ideas of where this journey will end, my skjaldmær, but we both know it won’t end here. It can’t. So hold the image of your dragon in your mind and raise your shield, because you’re about to be tempted more than you’ve ever been before. I’d rather not drag your ass out of here, kicking and screaming, but that’s exactly what I’ll do if I must.”
She grimaces at me, opening her mouth to respond with some smartass comment, but then we turn the corner. And she sees the view that will stay with her forever, as it has with me.
Chapter sixteen
Finaan
Álfheimr
WhateverIwasaboutto say to Wregen gets trapped in my throat as I catch sight of the fantasy world laid out in front of us.
We’re still underground, but now I know why the light has been increasing over the last hour or so. The earth is open above this field—far, far above it—casting its soft glow on the trees and grass and flowers and streams and pond. I look up, wondering what hovers between us and the sun, shifting the colors here. But then I realize the hues are true in this unexpected place. No mist or cloud floats above us.
A small laugh escapes me as my eyes dance across the blues that dominate this oasis instead of the greens of Vanaheim. The grass beneath our feet and the leaves on the trees are a soft azul, like the birds that roam the skies at home, or the ocean at dawn, its gentle waves shifting as they reflect the colors of the heavens. They’re a gentle contrast to the tree trunks and branches of the bushes and shrubs, which all are the dark blue of the sea at dusk, or the very edges of the wings of the butterflies that appear at home every spring.
