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3
Alfheimr
Émilien stared at the rapidly increasing compound in the valley below. Squatted on the edge of the tallest mountain overlooking the Elven capital, he appraised the twins’ progress in the rebuilding of the town. Their castle stood proud and tall in the town’s center and was complete with a colorful fountain situated to greet visitors.
Transporting next to the fountain, the kaleidoscope of colors swirled through the cascading waters. It was truly magnificent. Tilting his head to one side, he stared into the glistening depths of the water-filled base, his anxiety easing with the liquids soothing lapping and gurgling.
“Émilien! What are you doing here?”
Hearing the familiar cultured voice, Émilien turned to see both Lamruil and Ailuin staring at him.
Ailuin elbowed his brother’s arm, his worried expression morphing into a smirk. “Look, he’s speechless. Bet you one of Raisa’s fruit pies, it’s because he’s here to throttle us for giving him new tenants.”
“You can keep your wife’s pies, brother. I’ve had the bitter disappointment of trying her latest batch. I will never figure out how she made a perfectly delicious key lime pie taste like mud.” Lamruil rolled his eyes at Émilien, who pinched his lips together to keep from laughing at the droll statement, which was unlike him. Lamruil was the serious twin and rarely cracked jokes, so he couldn’t help but wonder what was up with the elf co-regent.
“Hey! You have to give her credit for trying—” Ailuin’s expression soured, and he shook his head. “No, I take that back. They really are horrid. At least you don’t have to pretend you like them.”
“Pathetic,” Émilien chuckled. “You are both pathetic.” He crossed his arms over his thick chest. “Now, one of you better tell me exactly why you thought it would be a good idea to burden me with a group of unruly draugars and werewolves?”
“It was the only thing we could think of to stop their growing antagonism,” Ailuin answered. “Raisa tried talking to the werewolves and Alva discussed the issue with the draugar, but to no avail. Neither group would listen, and they are simply too powerful to keep all together, unsupervised and untrained.”
Émilien scowled, knowing where this was leading to and not liking it. “I am not a babysitter.”
“No, you’re a seasoned and skilled leader and instructor. Both sides can learn much from you,” Lamruil said. “You were our first choice—”
“And the last,” Ailuin interrupted.
“Just spit it out. What are you trying to tell me?”
Lamruil held up his hand, and his brother snapped his jaws shut. “You were our first choice for placing a small faction of both groups. You were also our last choice, since no one else would take the final pairing of werewolves and draugar.”
Émilien groaned and scrubbed his face with his paws, fighting the urge to impale himself with his dagger-like claws. Letting his arms fall to his sides, his shoulders drooped with defeat. From his earlier interaction with the creatures, he couldn’t blame the twins for their decision. He did have the ability to control both groups.
“When will the second group arrive?”
Ailun’s blue eyes glazed, and Émilien knew the elf was talking to his wife. From watching her manage the werewolves during their last battle on Midgard, Raisa took her job as their protector seriously, and he could understand why the werewolves called her their warrior queen. She, much like the other Night Witches, were forces to be reckoned with. He had also witnessed the women as pilots during the war and couldn’t decide if Raisa’s backbone came from the biplanes—flying coffins in his opinion—or from her kinship with the Norse goddess Freyja and her twin brother, Freyr.
“Raisa said they just left for Midgard,” Ailuin said, a teasing smile appearing as he jerked his head toward his brother. “Rest assured, we gave the worst group to Lamruil since he’s been with them from the beginning when he helped to create them.”
Émilien s blood turned to ice, as an uncontrolled fury spread through him. His gaze speared the elf’s, and he took a step forward. “You didwhat?”
Lamruil’s eyes widened, and he held up his hands. “I had nothing to do with that, Émilien, I swear to you. I was under cover, spying on the Nazis, specifically Heydrich and Himmler. I tried to stop or change things as often as I dared. I didn’t come into the creation program until after Himmler found the Dark Fae’s spell book.”
He closed his eyes, his pale skin turning almost transparent, before once more meeting Émilien s gaze. “You didn’t see what he did to the Russian and Polish soldiers. He tried the spell two times—I can’t even begin to tell you the horrors I saw. The men were so mutilated...”
He swallowed and straightened. “I corrected the pronunciation with a few of the words. I just couldn’t let more brave soldiers—prisoners of war—die like that,” he said, his voice ending in a whisper.
Émilien nodded, remembering the horrors of what Fer-Diorich had done to the men in his own prison cell. He understood Lamruil’s actions only too well. “I know your grief, Lamruil, and I apologize for reacting as I did. My time with Fer-Diorich is filled with those same memories. I will carry my friends’ screams as they begged for death until I die, and I will probably still hear them once I’ve gone to Helheimr. If you can help the worst acclimate to their new lives, then I am in your debt and will be honored to watch over and train those in my care.”
Turning to Ailuin, he narrowed his gaze. “You would be better off finding out the entire story before applying humor to the situation. Words are power and when spoken in haste or jest....”
The muscles in Ailiun’s jaws flexed, his teeth clenching as his lips puckered. “I am sorry. I have tried to get Lamruil to talk about what happened, but he refused. After what we saw during the war and its aftermath at the concentration camps, not once did the thought of Himmler torturing the soldiers he’d turned enter my mind. I would never make light of something so horrific. Those who died should be honored—they gave the ultimate sacrifice.”
Lamruil laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I only wanted to spare you,minnbróðiri.What I witnessed and relive every night in my nightmares isn’t something I would wish on you. Not even in its retelling. You have an inner light, Ailuin, that shines so brightly. Everyone around you sees it, and their burdens are lightened. I have never had that light inside me, so the darker deeds of both man, gods, and elves are something I can handle.”
“Where else did you send groups?” Émilien asked. He spared a moment of pity for those chosen as trainers.
“Freyr and Idunn took a group, and Natalya and Mikhail took another. The last group we sent to Hel.”
