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“Hello, Drak,” he hissed. “Did you find healers too?”

My brow furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He gestured widely with his free hand. “You’re back from the dead. And here I thought the winged West Anglans could only heal minor wounds.” He grinned with pure malice, as obvious as the bloodlust burning in his irises. “They can’t even fix their own scars.”

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

“You won’t find any half-fae people here,” he said. “All captives are at the sacrifice, so I’m afraid you’ll die again, and this time, I’ll be sure to leave you with scars.”

Before I made sense of what he was saying, he moved in a blur toward me. One second I was squinting to see the throne in the dim light and the next he pinned me against the wall. My skull hit the stone with a thud, but I clenched my jaw and fought to ignore the throbbing.

I’d watched Lux stake enough vampires that I knew exactly where to aim, how to hold the weapon, and the measure of force I’d need to shove the ash stake through flesh and bone. But first, I needed to cut him open.

While he went for my neck, I hacked at his lungs. Steel met his rib cage, and he flinched. Warm liquid poured over my hand, as slick as the floor beneath us. This wouldn’t kill him, of course, so he only grunted at the shock and ripple of pain.

As he sank his fangs into my throat, the distraction of his bloodlust left me free to toss the ax aside and aim the stake, made of ash wood, at his heart. I just needed to get it up and through the fourth and fifth ribs. I mustered all the grief simmering from Axel’s death that I’d yet to confront, and forged it into rage.

I channeled my fury into my fist and forced the stake against his torso, harder, firmer, and never stopping until his bloodlust finally broke and he reeled back. With his weight off me, I peeled off the wall and brought my elbow back with the weapon in hand. He was already flayed open for me, an invitation sent by me, for me, to destroy this bastard.

“For Axel,” I breathed. “For Lux.”

I smashed the sharpened tip into his chest with enough force to crush his black, pulseless heart. He didn’t wither to ash fast enough for my liking. Only when the blood from his heart spread over his body and his skin flaked to ash did I take another breath.

In seconds, another vampire was upon me, but someone ripped her off before I could retaliate. Several someones. Thank the barnacles—the sharks and sea serpents with all their nasty, sharpened teeth fell one by one, and in the dark where only two weak candles remained lit in the candelabra torch, did I finally lay eyes on the only piece of Mjolnir in the Midgard realm.

Except Silver wasn’t sitting on it.

The throne sat empty, exposed, and victory should have swelled in my gut and mind as I stumbled over to it, dropping the stake. It clattered in my wake, forgotten as I claimed what I came here for.

I threw myself into the chair, taking my rightful place and solidifying our victory over Queen Silver. My body melded with the shape of the god-steel coated in a shell of bronze. How I’d never registered this magic humming beneath me before, I didn’t know. Likely because as a vampire, I was so far removed from the gods, I wouldn’t have seen their powers even if they flaunted them in front of me.

Soren burst into the room, shoving an executioner to the floor and slamming the heel of his boot against the woman’s throat. As soon as she stopped screaming, he flipped around and his mouth fell open.

I sat on the throne, and he was the first to witness it. We’d accomplished our goal, and the one throne of Vylheim gave me back my reign, but the victory felt hollow.

If Silver wasn’t here, as we predicted, then that meant she’d attended the sacrifice. She controlled the mass of vampires overseeing them.

And she was there with Lux.

Lux

Every executioner on our side had discarded their masks the moment they defected, but by the ferocity of their fight, I could identify each one. Their skill in battle set them apart from the villagers who surrounded the temple with us. A hum of courage and feral energy coursed through my veins as they swung at the vampires. Each of us marched to the Hall of the Gods with a stake cut from the trees along Mara’s border and a steel weapon.

One to cut them down. One to destroy them.

Too many vampires.

I rolled my shoulders back, steeling at the sight of two hundred strong loyal to Silver. Vampires in bloodlust, new vampires, some ancient enough that Kayn had turned them. I knew some members of the former Blood Council by their voices, shouting and instructing the vampires to find me.

But I stayed hidden, dressed in the simple trousers and cloak from Myrr, just one face among eight hundred villagers and two hundred Grimward. I poised at the center of our army with the defected executioners bracing the battle at the front.

I estimated we were six or seven minutes from entering the temple if the battle continued on as steadily. Any slower and my nerves would split, expecting my mother to have already succumbed to sacrifice.

Six minutes was long enough. I blew out a slow breath and folded my eyelids down. Even with the pulse of the surrounding bodies, I held confidence in my foresight. I’d grown so much stronger now, emboldened by Odin’s ability, even if it didn’t see everything Silver planned.

Someone grabbed my arm, and I flinched. I twisted my neck, peering past the hood shadowing my face and frowning at Stasia.

“Did you hear them say your name?” she asked. “I don’t want you to die.”