I reached for the door, ready to push it open, but before I could touch it, it swung towards me. At the first glimpse of his godlike face, I stepped back, like I’d been struck with an arrow.
“Galin?”
The sorcerer stood before me, arms crossed. His hair and eyes were now the color of the midnight sky, his chest tattooed with sharp black runes.
His expression was completely unreadable, like he was made of marble.
“Galin,” I began again. “I got your message—”
I stopped short as a shadow moved in the passage behind him. The shimmer of a silk gown, blue skin, a pair of gray eyes that gleamed in the darkness. My heart leapt into my throat as the Goddess of the Dead stepped from a hidden alcove to join Galin.
Behind me, Barthol exhaled sharply.
For a long moment we all just stared at each other. Then Hela spoke in a husky voice, so quiet it was almost a whisper. “You must be Ali.”
Dread shivered over my skin.
Chapter 7
Ali
You got this, Ali.
“Not Ali.” I straightened, clearing my throat. Adrenalin was filling my veins, making my body feel shaky. But I would compose myself. “I’m Empress of the Vanir.”
Hela didn’t reply, just stared at me—held my gaze too long, her gray eyes glittering. I stepped back, unnerved by the feeling that she was inspecting my soul. It took all my willpower not to look away.
If I were in her shoes I’d have been triumphant, exultant. I’d just caught my enemy in the middle of my stronghold, surrounded by my guards, with my most powerful warrior only feet away.
And what was Galin doing? Had he tricked me into coming here? Had he turned on me—or was he only pretending to be a shadowy weirdo?
Hela’s expression remained placid, morose even. What was wrong with her? Were all the gods like this? Beautiful but dour?
Galin cocked his head, his expression a million miles away. “Is that how you address the daughter of Loki, the Goddess of the Dead? The only living god?”
My breath left my lungs. I was starting to think perhaps Galin hadn’t told me to come here at all. He certainly didn’t look happy to see me.
What if Hela had summoned me?
My plan had failed. We’d been caught, and unless I could speak to Galin alone, I had no idea what he’d actually intended.
By his lack of expression, I guessed I had my answer to how he felt about me without the mating bond. He felt—nothing at all.
I tried to ignore the feeling of my heart shattering, so I could focus. That was what Swegde would tell me to do—push the emotions under the surface. I tore my gaze away from Galin, then dodged back from the doorway.
“Barthol, use your crystal,” I shouted.
Except—Barthol didn’t move. When I glanced at him, he seemed transfixed by Hela. That same expression that I’d seen in the tunnel was on his face again. I wanted to murder him. Absolutely murder him.
“You have something I want,” said Hela in a low voice, her eyes fixed on me.
Definitely a trap, then. She’d lured me here—and like an idiot, I’d come running.
“And what would that be?” I said, feigning innocence.
“Give me the wand.”
I shrugged, relieved at the one good decision I’d made—to hide it. “I don’t have it.”
Finally the goddess took her eyes off me. “Galin, darling. Search her.”
Galin stepped in front of me. He towered over me, close enough that I could have run my fingers over the strange runes that covered the taught skin of his stomach. I could smell him too, sage and smoke. That part of him hadn’t changed.
He reached for me. I went tense as his fingers brushed my shoulders, then traced along my arms.
Disappointment bloomed in my chest. He didn’t look at me as he moved his hands along my ribs, down my hips. He ran his fingers over my legs, from my thighs down to my ankles. I stared at his queen as he did, and her gaze pierced me to the core. Gritting my teeth, I wished I’d never come here.
After confirming the wand wasn’t hidden under my leather pants, Galin straightened. “She doesn’t have it.”
Hela took a step closer. “Where is my wand, Empress?”
“Back in Vanaheim. I couldn’t risk bringing it with me.”
Galin still loomed over me. “That’s impossible, she couldn’t have gotten here without it.”
Anger roiled in my mind. Screw you, Galin. Shadowy prick.
And this was why I’d needed to sever the mating bond. Because without it? He didn’t care for me at all. He’d written the letter to trap me here. That was all.
“I had one of the seidr send me here,” I said sharply. “I didn’t use the wand.”
Galin’s body was eerily still, shadows curling from him. “One cannot create a portal to a place they haven’t visited. You and I are the only mortals to have toured this realm in thousands of years. The seidr did not send you here.”
My fingers tightened into fists. Had I actually thought we might have something without the mating bond? Absolute idiocy.
“I described the realm in great detail.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “The Night Elf lies. It’s close by.”
But Hela didn’t appear to be listening to Galin. Instead she was looking past me.
She was staring at Barthol.
“Who is he?” Her voice was a quiet murmur.
He gazed at her with wonder. “I am Barthol Volundar, the Empress’s brother.”
Gods, what was Barthol doing? Telling Hela he was my brother gave her leverage over me. This was a basic assassin no-no.
“Yes, her brother,” Hela murmured, gliding towards him, her silk robe shimmering. “And what brings you to my kingdom?”
“Well,” Barthol stammered, “I was looking after Ali.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You mean the Empress of the Vanir?”
“Err, yes.”
“I see.” Hela’s voice was buttery smooth. “And does that mean you know where the wand is?”
Barthol stared at the goddess like he’d been hypnotized. It didn’t help that the sheerness of the silk hid absolutely nothing.
“I don’t … I haven’t …” Barthol’s throat bobbed.
“Why don’t you just tell me the last time you saw the wand?” whispered Hela, catching Barthol’s chin in her long fingers.
Barthol had gone completely rigid, his eyes fixed on Hela’s. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Silly boy,” said Hela. “You don’t need to be scared of me.”
“I’m not scared of you,” he whispered.
The death stare I was giving him had no effect, since he wasn’t looking at me.
“Then tell me where the wand is,” she purred.
“It’s …” Barthol stammered again. Hela leaned closer, drawing a finger along the edge of his jaw.
I glanced to Galin. He was watching Hela intently. This was my chance.
Leaping past him, I snatched Levateinn from the crevice in the stone. Before Galin could stop me, I leveled the wand at Hela.
“Step away from my brother, goddess.”