In her black leather, Ali looked tense, her fingers always twitching as if she planned to call her dagger.
She had good reason to be tense.
“Let us go back inside,” Gorm called above the wind.
Back in the cabin, a veritable smorgasbord of pastries had been arranged on tables, along with great steaming carafes of hot chocolate and coffee. Red velvet sofas had been pulled up around a gilded coffee table.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” said Gorm.
I kept standing, my mind always churning, strategizing how I’d make my move if I needed to.
“We have much to discuss,” said Gorm. “I thought the next contest should be a battle on moths above the city. No armor, and this time we’ll allow weapons like crossbows and javelins. It will be spectacular, elves flying like birds, fighting in the sky. A little messy when one falls, but I have men who can clean it up.”
The Regent shrugged. All eyes turned to Thyra.
“While I do agree a battle on flying moths would be spectacular,” said Thyra, “I remind you that article eight of the Winnowing contract states that the Night Elves get to choose the time, place, and rules of the second contest.”
Gorm’s lips compressed to a thin line. “And what will those be, then?”
Thyra nodded slightly at Ali. “Astrid, will you explain the rules of the contest?”
“Of course.” Ali crossed her legs, leaning back on the sofa with her arms spread out like she owned the place. “In the Shadow Caverns, we have no sun. No light to grow grass. There are no horses, no cattle, no beasts of burden of any sort. We have only the occasional goat and mushrooms. That’s it. All Dokkalfar, young and old, must run or walk if they wish to travel. So, in honor of my people’s humble lives, we will be hosting a foot race—”
“A foot race!” Gorm interrupted, laughing. “There must be fighting. How are elves going to die in a foot race?”
“Your Majesty,” said Ali, cold as ice, “please allow me to finish.”
Gorm nodded, fuming.
“We’ll have a foot race. It will start on Bunker Hill and end in front of the Old State House. Elves may bring any weapons they like, as long as they do not shoot projectiles. Same rules as the melee.” For the first time since we entered the barge, Ali’s eyes met mine. “And this time, no magic. None whatsoever.”
Chapter 18
Ali
Gorm’s eyes narrowed with rage as I finished describing the rules of the foot race, and his impotent anger gave me a bit of satisfaction.
“Of course the Night Elves want to run.” His voice cracked with anger. “That’s what you do, right? Run and hide. You need to come up with a proper contest, not some nimby-pimby street scuttle.”
I shrugged. “We’re in charge of this contest, so you’re just going to have to trust me when I say that plenty of elves are going to die. Believe me when I say you’re not going to want to be in last place, although, given your age and physical condition, that is entirely possible.”
Gorm’s face turned nearly crimson. “Do not speak to a king with such insolence.”
“Sir, let me remind you that earlier tonight you called a Shadow Lord a hag and a bitch. I will describe you however I damn well please.”
Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a flicker of a smile ghost across Galin’s lips.
“Gods dammit!” shouted Gorm, throwing his mug across the interior of the barge. It shattered above a velvet sofa, splattering the gold cushions with hot chocolate. After a moment of tense silence, he stalked over to the bar.
Next to me, Thyra whispered, “Nice work.”
“Will two days be enough time to prepare?” I whispered back.
“Definitely.”
I turned, looking out the windows and marveling at the view. Whorls of snow flittered through the air outside. Far below us, I could just barely see the lights of Boston. A quiet movement caught my eye, and I looked up just in time to see Galin slip out the door to the balcony.
He would be alone out there. This was a chance I had to take.
Quietly, I rose and slipped outside.
Galin was standing by himself at the far end of the balcony. He leaned against the gilded railing looking into the darkness.
Should I push him, then claim it was an accident? He was their greatest weapon. I’d seen it for myself, the godlike damage he could wreak on his enemies. He was like an angel of death.
Undoubtedly, it would be the best thing for my people if he were dead. Taking the High Elves’ best fighter out would give us an enormous advantage in the Winnowing. Considering he’d gotten me thrown in prison, I owed him nothing.
But when he whirled to look at me, his golden eyes burning, I felt it again. That feeling of glass shattering in my heart. “Hello, Ali. Have you come to try to kill me again?”
“I’ve considered it.”
“You won’t be able to.” His deep voice slid around me like a warm caress, and I breathed in the scent of wood smoke and sage.
“It would be best for the Night Elves if you were dead,” I whispered.
Galin gave me a slow, seductive smile. The next thing I knew, he was standing before me, hands on either side of me, gripping the railing. He was boxing me in, giving me a look that was sensual, carnal. It was a gaze that slid into my soul, as though he could see every inch of my secret desire for him. In the freezing air, heat rippled off his body.
“The gods are dead,” he said, “and nothing means anything, except this: we are bound to one another. I don’t know why. Only the Norns truly know the ways of Wyrd. The link between our souls commands them to be together. If you try to sever the link, Wyrd fights back. You are mine and I am yours.” His low voice heated my blood.
I clenched my jaw, trying to block out the intensity of his stare. This situation was all wrong, and I felt like my legs were about to give way. “Am I actually your mate?”
His eyes gleamed. “Can’t you feel it?”
A vernal scent curled around us, and my body was growing warmer. I could feel it—like our souls were twined together. I ached to be near him. And that was what made me feel like my heart was breaking. I swallowed hard. “Maybe.”
“So why are you so eager to see me dead? I thought we were allies.”
“Oh, did you?” I spat. “So why did you fuck me over? You betrayed me. You told the Shadow Lords about us, that I helped their worst enemy. You knew exactly how that would turn out. With me in prison.”
He shook his head slowly. “What are you talking about?”
“I was imprisoned in Audr Mine because of you. Forced into hard labor. You wrote a letter to the Shadow Lords, and that was the result. Since I received a marked lot, I've spent every moment with the Shadow Lords. I shouldn’t even be talking to you now.”
And yet, I was here like an idiot, because I was drawn to him. Because I could feel his soul calling to mine. I had to kill him, but I just wanted to be in his arms. When I was with him, it was like I could feel the world coming alive again.
Galin narrowed his eyes. “I wrote no letter, Ali.”
I stared at him, frustration simmering. “Who the fuck wrote it, then?”