I felt Galin’s warmth near me, and smelled his scent of wood smoke and sage. I opened my eyes to see those midnight eyes on me.
He peered down at me, faintly curious. “He won’t be coming. Hela’s persuasive powers are unparalleled. I’ve only recently started to learn to resist them.”
A million objections screamed in my mind, but through them all, a clear and quiet voice told me that I would find a way to get Barthol back. There was simply no question—I was not going to leave him there with the Goddess of the Dead.
Galin had tricked me, and now, my brother had paid the price.
“Your letter called us there,” I hissed. “Nice little trap you and your queen set for me. And this is why I had to sever the mating bond—to find out that deep down under that sexy exterior, you’re a monster. Now I know the truth.”
He flinched, almost imperceptibly. The runes inked on his chest shimmered ominously. His expression was as grim as the shadowy magic that drifted around him. “And if you hadn’t severed the ties, I might never have realized I was entranced by a selfish wretch. I’d be thankful, except I no longer feel anything at all.”
Fury ignited in me, and the words rang in my mind. “Nothing?”
“Certainly not desire.”
I tried to see through my haze of anger to focus. “Same with me,” I lied. But I was losing focus now, and there were more important things to discuss. “Wait. What do you mean her persuasive powers are unparalleled?”
“Hela’s magic is invasive. It descends on your mind like a shroud. Once she sinks her death magic into you, it’s not easy to think on your own.”
My throat tightened. “Okay. Wait. Did she force you to be her lover against your will? Is that how you ended up as her consort?”
The breeze toyed with his hair. “No.”
Nausea rose in my gut, and I glared at him, reminding myself that it was none of my business. “Okay. Never mind. Why did you tell her that Barthol was my brother, giving her leverage over me?”
“You don’t need to be a goddess to see how alike you and Barthol are. She knew. She tests people. It’s what she does.”
I inhaled deeply. “And when you tried to take the wand from me,” I said. “Was that her influence?”
“I wasn’t trying to take the wand from you.”
I blinked. “Yeah, you were. I was there.”
“If I wanted to take the wand from you, I would have taken it. If I didn’t want to leave Hel with you, I would not be here now. You’re an assassin of the highest order, but your raw physical strength is no match for mine. I told her where the wand was because she knew it was there. It’s Loki’s wand—her father’s wand, connected to her magic. Even I could feel its power. She was testing you, testing me. Trying to see what we would do. She wanted to see if I still felt anything for you. I had to play along, or she would have just killed you. It would have been better if you hadn’t showed up exactly when she was there.”
Shadows darkened the air around him. “And it would have been better if you hadn’t brought your brother. The bottom line is—Barthol won’t be breaking out. But having me here is leverage. You were right about that much, she wants me in Hel.”
Horror washed over me as I thought of what my brother was being subjected to. I caught myself on the edge of the table as the room seemed to spin. “I have to get him out.”
“I will return to the goddess as her consort, and you will get your brother back. As you said, I belong in Hel.”
I arched an eyebrow. “If you’re so loyal to this goddess, then why are you defying her?”
“I want to stop the draugr hordes from destroying the world. I was the one who raised her. It’s my responsibility to fix this. And when I return, you’ll get Barthol back.” He was offering to save my brother, but an edge of steel undercut his voice. “That is what you want, right?”
“None of this is really what I wanted.” I started pacing, my mind still whirling with panic. “Will Hela hurt him?”
“No, not physically at least.”
I frowned. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
A knock sounded on my door.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Empress, it’s Swegde,” he called through the door.
“You may enter.”
The door swung open, and Swegde’s eyebrows crept up when he saw Galin. “You returned with the sorcerer.” His eyes moved from Galin, back to me, then to the rest of the room. “Where is Barthol?”
“In Hel,” said Galin.
Swegde’s eyes widened, and I saw on his face the horror I’d felt only moments earlier. “Dead?”
“No, he’s alive,” I said quickly. “Hela took him as collateral—to insure Galin’s safe return.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but I didn’t want Swegde freaking out.
Swegde narrowed his eyes at Galin. “You will return in exchange for Barthol?”
“Yes. There is little for me here, anyway.”
Disappointment slid through me.
A muscle in Swegde’s jaw worked. As much as I believed in Galin, he did not. “The council is waiting for you,” he said at last.
Seated at the council table were Bo, Lynheid, Harald, and Sigre. Their eyes widened as they took in Galin—and the fierce-looking tattoos that slid over his muscles. From a chandelier above us, candlelight wavered, shadows moving back and forth over the room.
“He’s here.” Lynheid stood. “But where is Barthol?”
“He remains in Hel as Hela’s prisoner. We will get him back,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
Harald’s face had gone pale, muscles rigid. With a scrape of steel he drew his sword, lip curled. “I am Harald, Prince of Midgard. As ruler of the High Elves, I place you under arrest.”
Galin stared at him, hardly moving. “On what charges?”
“You committed the most serious of crimes: regicide, patricide, fratricide. You killed King Gorm, and you pushed your brother to his death. Do you dispute this?”
“No.”
“Then you will submit?” Harald stalked towards Galin.
“No.”
That was his whole defense? During his time in Hel, Galin had become even more reticent than usual. He hardly spoke more than he had when he’d been a lich.
I sighed. “Put your sword away, Harald.”
Ignoring me, Harald readied his sword. He stood five feet from Galin, close enough to strike.
Galin had gone still as stone, his black eyes locked on Harald.
Harald lunged. I shouted for him to stop, but it was too late. He drove his blade towards Galin’s chest, but just as the sword plunged into the sorcerer, Galin whispered a spell.
Darkness filled the room, the candles snuffing out at once.
There was a crash, and Harald swore. Then, the candles flickered to life again, bathing the room in warm light.
I stared. Where Galin had been, there were only wisps of black smoke. He’d completely disappeared. Harald’s sword was lodged in the oak table. Now armed with only a dagger, the prince slashed at the empty air.
“Where is he?” he shouted, his face red.