I spun, lashing my arm like a bullwhip. My fist hit Hulda in the throat.
“Mmgghhh—” She fell, clutching her neck. Her lot fluttered above her like a vermilion butterfly.
I snatched it, crushing it in my fist.
And that is how I deal with fate.
Then, I dropped my unmarked lot onto her quivering form.
My heart rejoiced. I knew then that I would have my revenge. I was one step closer to killing Galin, to becoming the North Star. Even if fate wasn’t on my side, I would write my own.
Chapter 6
Galin
I sat at my desk with a fresh piece of parchment spread out before me. As I raised my hand to write, I felt my fingers cramping. My mind was a knot of twisting emotions. Rage, regret—and, worst of all, a sense that I was losing control. That maybe my vision of becoming king would never come to pass, or worse—that I wouldn’t have Ali by my side.
I looked up from the paper. In the darkness of night, Boston’s buildings spread out before me like the stones of a distant cemetery. Crumbling and broken, they were an ever-present reminder of a better time, a glorious age snuffed out by machinations over which it had had no control. When I had been the Sword of the Gods. Ragnarok had sentenced man and elf alike to an eternally frozen existence, and it still disoriented me.
My fingers tightened on my quill. When I became king of the High Elves, I would find a way to fix this. Turn back the curse, thaw the world. Was this my destiny? Was this my fate?
My spell could wait. Tomorrow, I’d organize the runes and glyphs, I’d paint them on my chest once more. I’d been up the entirety of the previous night composing the fortification spell. What I needed was sleep.
I pushed my chair back and blew out the candle. I stripped off my shirt, trying not to think of my perverse sister ogling me, then stepped out of my trousers and collapsed onto my bed, one arm thrown over my eyes. Satin and down enveloped me.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to relax. But each one of my muscles was tense, taut. As much as I twisted and turned, I simply couldn’t get comfortable. A bed wasn’t for me.
I crawled out of bed and onto the floor. Even if the past thousand years seemed like a dream, my body seemed to remember them. After all that time sleeping on stone, my coiled muscles rebelled at the gentle cushion of a mattress. I closed my eyes, then opened them again.
Flames danced along the logs in the hearth, crackling as they burned, but I needed total darkness to sleep. I traced a sharply angled C in the air, muttering, “Kaun.” Magic flickered over my bare skin, and the fire went dead.
I closed my eyes again. Finally, darkness, where I now felt most at home, welcomed me. I breathed slowly, allowing my muscles to relax. My aching body yearned for sleep, but I stirred again. I still had another task to complete.
The Helm of Awe clinked on the stones as I shifted position. Revna was right—it was a manacle on my mind. A golden cuff that stopped me from killing the king and all his guards. A chain that kept me from leaving the Citadel.
Almost.
There was one place the crown couldn’t follow me. I exhaled deeply, and magic crackled over my skin. Then, I allowed my soul to break free of my body. In an instant, I’d ascended to the astral plane.
I floated in a void. Most would fear this place, since it was so like death. But I’d already been dead. It was blacker than any cavern, inkier than the depths of the sea; I felt smaller than the tiniest of dust motes, a speck in an infinite plane. And yet, it wasn’t completely dark. All around me, tiny lights flickered like distant stars. The souls of elves.
“Ali,” I whispered under my breath.
Like a plummeting meteor, my soul blazed across the astral plane. A light gleamed in the distance, growing brighter and brighter. Even though I’d seen it a hundred times now, the awesome beauty of Ali’s soul still astonished me. The perfect complement to my own. The gods were dead, but this was the closest I’d come to divinity.
As our souls neared one another, our connection glowed, the astral manifestation of fate—Wyrd—that bound us for eternity. My heart ached. I could see every detail of my mate’s soul, but I couldn’t touch or communicate with it in any way.
If fate had declared us mates, why had she not been in my vision of the future, where I’d seen myself as king?
I didn’t know, but just being close to her soul eased my despair at the frigid wreck the world had become. I hadn’t felt this despair for a thousand years as a lich, but now—alive again—it was drowning me.
If I could visit Ali’s soul on the astral plane, that meant she was alive. That I’d saved her from certain death at my father’s hands. I’d sacrificed my chance to be with her to ensure she was safe and at home with her people.
A sense of peace enveloped me, and only then did I allow my soul to drift back to my body.
“Prince Galin!”
A gruff voice roused me from sleep. I cracked open my eyes. A guard stood above me, grimacing.
“What do you want?” I croaked, my neck stiff and cold. I really needed to stop sleeping on the floor, and I should probably stop sleeping naked if guards were going to barge in here.
“The king has requested your presence at breakfast.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I just saw him last night.”
“He demands to see you now.”
I groaned, crawling to my feet. Towering over the guard, I watched him shrink back from me. He was shaking. “Fuck off while I put some clothes on,” I grumbled.
Two minutes later, dressed in a clean shirt and pants, I was following the guard up one of the Citadel’s many stairways. I actually felt relatively well rested, my limbs imbued with strength. The floor might be hard, but it was familiar.
When we reached the king’s chambers, the guard pushed open the gilded doors, and I followed him inside.
“Prince Galin,” he said, announcing my arrival.
Buttery light streamed in from the windows. King Gorm, Revna, and Sune sat at a table laden with food. Plates were heaped with croissants, butter rolls, fruit jellies, and scrambled eggs. The king slathered a croissant with orange jam while Revna and Sune sipped from coffee cups.
My stomach rumbled, and it took me a moment to recognize what hunger was. Hunger for real food instead of blood—another thing that kept disorienting me.
Revna looked me over. “Still sleeping on the floor?”
“It suits me.”
“It seems very manly,” she said.
“Revna!” Sune’s lip curled. “Please tell me you’re not flirting with him.”
At least my brother and I had that disgust in common. Probably the only thing we agreed on.
Her eyes went wide. “Of course not!”
The king waved at an empty chair, his fingers sticky with jam. I could see it still—the fear in his eyes. He tried to mask it, but it was palpable.
“Sit,” said the king. “Sit. Stop arguing. You must try these preserves.”
I sat, but didn’t take any of the food. “Why am I here?”
“Why are you here?” The king laughed like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever invited me to breakfast in a thousand years. “Because you’re my son, of course. We’re having a family breakfast. I wouldn’t dream of excluding you.”