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A stricken look washed across her face and one tear slid down her cheek. “Camille, what I’m going to tell you must remain secret for now. Please, tell no one else. It doesn’t involve the demons so I’m not asking you to hide anything from your sisters that would concern them.”
I hated keeping secrets, but at times hiding something was a necessary evil. “Sure. I promise, as long as this doesn’t involve our fight.”
She cleared her throat. “The shadow is . . . was . . . my betrothed. That thing was once a noble snow sprite named Vikkommin. He and I were to be married, until something went horribly wrong.”
I stared at her, my disbelief warring with the pain in her eyes. “Your fiancé? But what happened? How did he . . . How could he . . .”
She let out a low moan. “He was a priest in the order of Undutar, and I was in line to be High Priestess. We were to be married. But one night, about a month before our wedding, he called me to his room. I went, of course, and when I got there . . .” Iris’s eyes filled with tears and she covered her face with her hands.
I knelt beside her, my hand on her shoulder. “What happened? Tell me.”
“That’s the trouble! I don’t know what happened. I opened the door, and the next thing I knew, I was bound, behind bars, waking up. They said I tortured him and turned him into that shadow creature. They said that when they found me, I was gibbering like a madwoman, that I told them I hated him. But I loved him! And I couldn’t have done that—ripped away his body and left his spirit embedded in shadow.”
I pulled her close, hugging her, holding her as she shuddered against my shoulder. Her heart was breaking. “You’ve never told anyone this story before, have you?”
She shook her head, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “No,” she said, staring at the floor. “I’m too ashamed.”
After a moment, I gently coaxed her to look at me. “Iris, do you even have the power to do something like that?”
She sniffled. “Oh, girl, I had the power, all right.”
“What happened after you told them you couldn’t remember?”
Iris dashed at the tears but they kept coming. “I protested my innocence. They couldn’t prove beyond doubt that I’d done it. For one thing, Vikkommin—or the creature he had become—disappeared that night, after they dragged me away. But he’s been following me on the astral ever since. I think he believes that I actually hurt him. He never lets me forget it. He wants to kill me and drag me into the shadows with him. Maybe he’s gone mad. I don’t know.”
“Holy hell. Are you in danger?”
“No,” she said, staring at her feet. “Not at the moment. Vikkommin can’t hurt me unless . . . until I return to the Northlands where he’s trapped in body.”
I wanted to be tactful but decided that Iris would prefer me to be myself—blunt and undiplomatic. Someone who gave a damn. “What did the temple elders do to you?”
She closed her eyes, trying to keep her composure. “They tortured me, looking for a confession. I can’t talk about it—it was too painful. And like your sister Menolly, I bear scars both physical and emotional. Mine just aren’t quite so apparent. When I wouldn’t admit guilt, they stripped me of my title and my strongest powers, then sent me back to Finland under a curse. I can never carry a child to term until Vikkommin is avenged. That means either I find out who did hurt him and claim vengeance in his name, or I’ll never have children, never become one of the sacred mothers, never be able to set foot in a temple to my goddess again.”
The Finns were wild about motherhood, that much I knew. In fact, the mothers of their heroes were more important than the actual heroes themselves. To be stripped of her ability to carry a child was a cruel punishment. And to be cast out of her temple, even worse.
Angry that anyone would ever believe she’d ever do something that terrible, I clenched my fists. “Why did you come with us today? What are you going to do? Does this have anything to do with Bruce?”
She nodded. “Bruce asked me to marry him and I’d like to. I’ve grown to love him, Camille. He’s a good man, and he’s good to me. But I know he wants children. He’s the last of his family line. He must carry on the family name. Unless I can lift the curse, I can’t—in good conscience—accept his offer. I’m headed to Dahnsburg to look up the Great Winter Wolf Spirit, who spends his summers in the city. He winters in the upper Northlands, high in the mountains near the place where Vikkommin’s shadow retreated. He might be able to help me track down Vikkommin and find out the truth somehow. I’ve tried everything else and this is the only thing I can think of.”
Silently, I took her hand in mine and squeezed gently. “Does Bruce know any of this?”
Looking at me as if I was a candidate for The Jerry Springer Show, she shook her head. “How can I tell him what happened when I don’t even know myself? I have no proof that I’m innocent. My memory seems permanently sealed from the moment I walked into Vikkommin’s room until I woke up in the cell. I’ve tried everything I can to break through the wall but nothing works. The fact that they stripped my title and my strongest powers from me and cursed me effectively brands me as a pariah. And . . .” she paused, her lower lip trembling.
“And what?”
“What if I did do it?” she whispered. “What if some horrible part of me—buried deep inside—took over and tore him inside out? What if I turned him into a shadow? What if I am the one who destroyed both our lives? If I find out that I’m truly a monster, then I couldn’t live with the knowledge. No, best I try to uncover the truth before Bruce knows anything. If I didn’t do it, I’ll be free to tell him everything. And if I did . . .”
I gave her a long look as she stood there, staring ahead at the wall. “Then, what? What would you do?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a strangled voice. “I can’t think that far ahead. The thoughts are too frightening.”
At that moment, my father called to us and Iris quickly wiped away all signs of the tears. I forced a smile as we headed over to the men, but inside all I could think about was what Iris might do if she discovered that she’d been responsible for destroying the man she had loved.
The portal jump to Dahnsburg was like most of the others, but the city was a world apart from Y’Elestrial. For one thing, Dahnsburg was a port city—the western port, to be exact. The smell of brine and seaweed hung heavy in the air.
I sucked in a deep breath, closing my eyes as a crisp breeze swept past. That was one thing I’d loved about moving Earthside to Seattle. We were near the ocean. There was nothing quite as mesmerizing as standing on the pier, watching as the waves of the inlet ebbed and flowed, feeling the call of the Ocean Mother as she filtered into the channels and rivulets that formed Puget Sound.
And here, instead of the Pacific, we stood on the edge of the Wyvern Ocean, a vast body of water that led to the mythic lands of Finnish and Norse repute—the wide woodlands of Tapiola, and beyond that, the fjords of Valhalla and Asgard. And in the far, far north—the lands of Pohjola, which were rumored to contain natural portals leading into the realm of the Northlands.
