Chapter 2
Galin
From my throne, I stared out into the vastness of Hela’s dark hall. In ancient alcoves, votive candles cast wavering light over the flagstone floor and columns.
Just as I had done a minute ago, just as I had done an hour earlier, just as I had done the day before. I was familiar with every broken stone, every chipped column, every pile of dust and bone. The only thing that changed was the position of the shades. Sometimes there were hundreds floating around, other times only a few, but never were there none.
I closed my eyes, ready to ascend to the astral plane. This was my only escape from this world. In the astral realm, I could scan the souls of the living. When I first arrived in Hel, I’d visited the plane every hour. I had one purpose then, to check on Ali’s soul, to make sure she was safe.
In those early days here, I’d felt broken. I’d been king of the High Elves, ready to lead them to a better world. I’d had a mate I loved, a beautiful Night Elf with eyes that shone like molten silver.
And in just a matter of hours, I’d lost it all.
My mate had broken the bond. My sister had stabbed me, sending me into the Well of Wyrd.
If it weren’t for Hela, the Goddess of Death, I’d be dead.
She’d come for me as I breathed my last breaths. She healed me, brought me to Hel to join her on the throne as king.
And that’s exactly what I’d become: the King of Shades, the King of Darkness … the King of Nothing. That last title was most accurate—my heart was empty, my soul lost. There were times when I’d thought of sending a message to Ali, but what would be the point? She’d severed our soul mate bond. It was over now.
As I tried to recall that sharp pain I’d felt when I first arrived here, I felt … nothing. My heart had started to turn dark and withered. I wasn’t a lich, but I might as well have been. My body was a husk—ashes and dust in my chest.
“Galin?”
I opened my eyes to see the Queen of Hel peering at me from her throne.
“Yes, your Highness?” I might be the King of Hel, but Hela was a goddess—a daughter of Loki.
My queen was beautiful and terrifying to behold—swirls of dark blue tattoos over the right half of her body. The other half was white as a lake of ice. Long, black hair draped over a white gown. She was stunning in an eerie way. Elegant. Her dark eyes shone with ruthless intelligence.
She was more dangerous than I ever could have imagined.
“I need satisfaction,” she breathed in a husky voice.
Hela was my queen, and I was her king, but I didn’t desire her.
“I am indisposed.” An obvious lie. I hadn’t done anything in weeks, and I’d been telling her this lie since I got here.
Fortunately, Hela never seemed to care.
She shrugged. “Then entertain me, King.”
I sighed. “How shall I do that, my Goddess? I am not an entertaining person.”
“I don’t care. Get out of your chair. Tell me a story, sing me a song, take off your shirt and dance for me. It doesn’t matter, as long as you do something to end this monotony.”
I gripped the stone arms of the throne. “If you could visit the Nastrand, you could breathe in the scent of the sea.”
“You know I cannot leave this place. The iron walls, they are the prison of the gods. Their magic binds me to these stones. And besides, I must rule over my people—”
“The shades?” The shades were hardly people, and they definitely didn’t need ruling. They seemed happy to float over the cold mud, or hover above the stones of Hela’s throne room, whispering quietly to one another.
“They are people to me.”
“Perhaps you could ask them to entertain you, then.” Irritation laced my tone.
She turned away from me. “Ganglati,” she said sharply. “What news do you have?”
My old friend appeared in front of us, a large shade with pale eyes.
“The shades report mist and rain, and eight hours ago a stone fell from the ceiling.” He spoke in a hushed, reverent tone. “The first in a hundred years. There was quite a to-do about it.”
“No, you fool, tell me of the worlds beyond the iron walls.” Her voice boomed, echoing in the vast hall. “What do you hear from Midgard? What about Vanaheim? What of the humans and the elves?”
Ganglati seemed unperturbed by Hela’s tone. “Ah. My Queen, terror reigns in the worlds of the living. Since you closed the gates to Hel, the dead that walk Helvegr have been turning round. Great hordes roam the plains of Vanaheim. They are hungry, and they feast on men and elves alike.”
A thin tendril of dread curled through me—concern for the living. Was I actually feeling something again?
“Good,” said Hela, her affect flat. “The more we send away, the more quickly they will grow in number—”
“Hela,” I cut in, my blood heating. “Why do you torture the mortals by letting the dead lay waste to their lands?”
Hela laughed, a strange guttural sound that set my teeth on edge. “You underestimate me, my King. I have a plan to escape, to rule the nine realms. My father’s wand—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Even if you had Levateinn, it would not be enough to break you out. It cannot tear down the walls. You are trapped here until the end of time.”
“You are right that I am trapped here.” Hela’s dark eyes searched my own.
A strange sensation trickled down my spine, one that I rarely felt—it took me a moment to recognize it as fear.
She crossed to me, stepping up onto the dais, then leaned down and gripped the collar of my shirt. She ripped it open. “But I wasn’t thinking Levateinn was the only tool I’d use to escape, or that I’d be the first to leave these walls.”
Chapter 3
Ali
With Barthol by my side, we crossed through the towering halls of golden stone. Arches swept high above us, and moonlight spilled onto the floor.
My brother flashed me a tired smile. “You could have been a dictator instead of bothering with the council.”
“No, Barthol. I’m trying to do things differently. I don’t want to be an asshole leader. I’m not King Gorm.” When I took over as high leader of the tribes of elves, the first thing I’d done was create a council of advisors, so every tribe would be represented. I asked each one to send me two members to represent their interests—the Night Elves, the Vanir, and the High Elves.
My footfalls echoed off the stone, and I glanced at my brother again. He looked exhausted. His hair lay matted to his forehead, and his boots were caked with mud. I knew I should let him shower and clean up, but I wanted to talk to him before the meeting.
“I was worried about you,” I said, touching his arm. “That was way too close. If Swegde and I hadn’t been waiting for you, you’d be draugr food now.”
Barthol laughed. “You don’t need to worry about me, sis.”
I glowered at him. “You were wearing your cave bear jacket. It was hot out. Someone needs to teach you common sense.”
“I know what I’m doing. It’s my lucky jacket.”