I did not come easily to this realization. It’s been burned into me, with the knowledge of what I am. What I would have done to her by throwing her into my mistress’s arms.
Hel knew. Devious bitch. She tested me, and I failed.
If I were a wise elf, I’d have figured it out long ago. She owns my emotions. And she watches me. I’m the only beating heart in this place by choice—well, initially by choice—and shewould never risk letting me stray so far from her awareness. I know this as surely as I know my own name.
Males are not reasonable or rational, though, where their cock’s concerned.
At least, this male isn’t.
I told myself I could get away with it because I wanted it so badly. After so many years alone, I wanted the connection my mate offered. Even if it was only a dream. Her dream. But I can’t hide anything from Hel.
She wouldn’t have let me keep Finaan. I was a fool to believe in that fantasy. Perhaps she’d have watched a while longer, seen me take Finaan willingly, but no more. My strong, valiant, stubborn skjaldmær would be lining one of Éljúðnir’s halls, steel and a vision of her agony and terror before the eternal torture of Hel’s stasis.
Fuck, I’m a pathetic, selfish bastard.
My mate deserves a life in the sun. If this is the price I have to pay, so be it.
I can endure anything Hel will throw at me, knowing that my skjaldmær escaped these caves.
And that I’ve fucked over Hel in the process, denying her the prize she craves.
It’s about time I stood up to the bitch.
“Wake up.” Pudge’s whiny voice pierces my ears, but it’s nothing compared to the blade he shoves between my ribs.
I scramble back from him, every muscle in my body lighting on fire as I force them to move for the first time in days. Or weeks. Or maybe months. I have no fucking idea.
Plopping onto my ass—too weak to do anything else—I open my eyes and try to understand what I’m seeing.
I’m in my room in Éljúðnir.
How the fuck did I get back into Hel’s castle?
It’s a dream. It’s a good dream other than the shiv that Pudge is still holding in his hand, dripping with my blood.
Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away, and I’ll be alone in my room.
No, not alone. I’ll have Finaan with me. There’s no dream without my skjaldmær.
“The mistress demands your presence. Hurry.”
I shake my head, shoving myself backwards on my hands and knees like the wraiths who figured out too late that I never gave them a way to win in our bargains. “I’m asleep. Go away and send in Finaan.”
Pudge smiles, his expression so full of hate, I can’t hold back my gasp. “You’ve slept enough. The mistress is ready for the next stage of your punishment.”
My gaze flicks down toward my bare chest—pink and as hairless as a new babe but untouched by fire—and then back up at Pudge.
“What’s happening?” I rasp. My voice sounds as I’d expect, like I drank acid and puked all night.
The miserable prick stalks forward and shoves that bloody blade into my ribs again—a matching wound for the otherside—drawing out my groan. Fuck me, that hurts. The flame is gone, so it’s the only thing I can feel, and my body recoils in response. It’s puny, perhaps the length of his smallest finger, but it does exactly what he needs. I don’t want to be stuck again.
“The mistress beckons you. She’ll answer your questions if she wants.”
I push all the way back to the wall, hoping it’ll help me stand, and wait for my legs to find the strength they need. I’m not sure if I’ll make it. My gut is a rock, terror that I’ll fail her command turning into a sludge in my stomach I think I’ll never be able to remove. Her punishment for that would be even worse than the shitshow I just lived through.
He starts stalking toward me, wielding his little knife like the torture device it is. And I’m a child again, cowering in the corner as our father sneers down at me, his finger punching at Balin and then back at me, accusations spilling from their lips.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I bark at the asshole as I drag myself from that lunacy.
