It was an uncomfortable moment to realize she agreed with him.
The night seemed to press in around them.
They’d taken to the skies and found a secluded glen to camp in for the night, but who knew whether the elves could even track them?
It was like discovering a long-lost myth had come to life—and it was armed to the hilt.
“How did they even get here? The gates to Álfheimr should have been locked,” she said.
It was how those long-ago dreki had defeated the elvish forces.
Hundreds of dreki Chaos-wielders—those who could manipulate the wild, uncontrollable magic of Chaos that Tiamat had spawned—had forged a key that could unlock a portal to the alfar home world. A daring band of dreki warriors had invaded Álfheimr, captured the king’s queen, and then forced the alfar king to withdraw to his home world with his legions—or risk seeing her dead.
The king had agreed to the terms, no doubt assuming he could return with a vengeance.
But the Key of Chaos had been used again to close the portal and then had vanished into myth and legend. Some said it was destroyed. Others whispered it had been cast into a volcano or the deepest of oceans.
But Solveig—who knew her kind and their weaknesses best—knew that somewhere out there, a dreki guarded the key like a treasure in his horde.
“Someone has the key,” she whispered. “Someone used it.”
It took her a long moment to realize that Marduk wore a wincing expression.
“It’s not the key,” he admitted. “My sister, Ishtar, was born of pure Chaos. She cannot shift forms and fly, but she can perform seemingly impossible feats, and several months ago, she opened the portal at World’s End where the alfar staged their invasion. Nothing came through the circle there, and we insisted she close it, but….”
But.
The world fell away from her.
Solveig’s mouth dropped open.
“You mean to tell me that the circle at World’s End—which abuts my father’s lands—was opened to Álfheimr, even for a second, and nobody saw fit to inform the Sadu of this potential threat?”
The words came out flat and hard and incredulous, because surely nobody was that stupid?
“And what would you have done if you had been told?”
“Removed the threat,” she burst out. “Placed guards at the circle. Ensured that none of these stinking elves came through—”
“Precisely.” He prowled toward her. “We were handling it. The queen of the Ikkibu court has placed watchers at the portal, and—”
“Zorja Ravenspire?” Her voice rose several octaves. “The queen of the Forbidden Court? You allowed a foreign queen into my territories without telling me?”
“Your territories? Or your father’s?”
Solveig paced, her dreki lashing its inner tail. “I am my father’s heir. They will be mine one day. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes,” he snarled. “You weren’t warned.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve already threatened to kill me,” he pointed out sharply. “What would you have done if you were told my twin sister had the ability to form a portal between the stars and open gateways to any of the nine worlds?” He laughed bitterly. “You said it yourself. You would remove the threat.”
Solveig fell into stillness.
And then she considered him.
“You misunderstand me,” she said coldly. “I am the daughter of Harald the Shrewd. I was raised on politics. My father has always cautioned for a steady head and a careful hand. You say your sister owns the ability to create such portals? That’s a powerful weapon in the wrong hands. In the right hands, it’s a gift. The Zilittu clan to the north have far too many Chaos-wielders within their clan. It’s bred into their bloodlines. The Sadu have none. That’s why we formed an alliance with your family’s clan in the first place. That’s why my father wanted you bred to me or one of my sisters. We can’t fight the Zilittu and their magic. But Chaos magic runs in your bloodlines and maybe, if we had Chaos-wielders in our court, we wouldn’t have to.”
Marduk’s shoulders squared, and any sense of good humor fell away from him. “Nobody is going to hurt my sister or use her for their own cause. Ishtar’s not a weapon. She’s not a gift to be used. She is a young female formed of flesh and blood who has never had a chance to live her own life. And I won’t let anyone manipulate her into a corner.”
She’d never seen him like this.
Gone was the rakish charmer.
Gone was the flirtatious prince who didn’t give a damn about anything.
In his place was a furious male dreki who was bound to protect what he considered to be his.
She’d never have believed it possible.
“And here I thought you were immune to your overprotective male urges,” she drawled.
He bared his teeth at her. “Not immune, no. Just selective in whom I apply them to.”
She glared at him.
He glared back.
Stalemate.
Solveig breathed through her anger. Ultimately, it was unimportant. What mattered was that the Sadu were unaware of the danger that was presented to them from Álfheimr. Their flanks were guarded by a foreign queen who had a reputation for ruthlessness. The Zilittu were still poised at their throat.
And any form of alliance between the Sadu and the Zini relied upon the mating bond between her and Marduk.
This was a disaster.
And despite her all-consuming rage—that little smoldering ember deep inside her—she couldn’t afford to give into her anger right now.
“I can’t kill you,” she said out loud.
His eyebrows shot up. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“Not right now.” Solveig tapped her lips. “Your sister can open a portal to Álfheimr, and it’s clear that something must have slipped through. Zorja’s watchers must not have been watching closely enough.”
“Or they’re dead.”
“Or they’re dead.” She crossed to the fire and warmed her hands, her mind a million miles away. “You say this Ishtar locked the gates. Why did she open them in the first place?”
Marduk looked troubled. “She said the voice in the moon told her to do so, but she claimed his name was Tyndyr.”
Solveig sucked in a sharp breath. “Tyndyr was the king of Álfheimr’s most brutal warlord. They said he died in battle.”
“But nobody ever found his body,” Marduk pointed out. “And yes, I’m aware of the implications of that.”
Troubling.
And elves were reputed to wield illusion and glamor.
“So someone was either impersonating him, or the bloodthirsty elvish bastard is still out there.” She could see him slipping away from a battle, wounded and bloody and hungry for revenge. “It was over a thousand years ago, but elves are long-lived, and he must have been sharpening his instinct for revenge for a long time. He finds your sister and manipulates her into opening the gates. She’s proven she has the power to do so. But she’s locked them, and now I may presume she’s carefully guarded in your court.” Solveig looked up. “And here we are in Iceland, barely a handful of miles from the Zini court within the Hekla volcano, and we’ve just run afoul of a handful of elves, which are admittedly scarce on this world.”