Page 40 of Vow of the Undead
I furrowed my brow and turned, twisting to see as much of the back of my head as I could reflected in the mirror. A shimmer caught the glow of the room’s candles from between my braids. I reached up to feel cold hard silver buried in my thick hair.
“My Y Tree,” I whispered. She hadn’t just returned it, she’d tucked it safely in the weave of my braids so that only a sliver of the top poked out. There were no pockets in this new dress with which to hide it, but Embla had found another way. I turned to cup her hand in mine, but she’d already slipped away to stand by the door. “Thank you.”
Without another word, she opened the door and waved for me to exit.
In the hall, Embla trailed at my heels, silently pointing which turn to make next in this labyrinth of cold stone. I scanned every inch of the ground and walls in case there was a hint of blood, or anything that would clarify Freya’s vision.
The Gods spoke cryptically, not because they wanted to play with the people of Midgard, but because riddles and challenges were the language of Asgard. It was all they knew, according to my mother.
I blew out a breath.
Mara’s Keep gave me nothing. No hint of identifying markers on the doors, no peculiar sounds, and definitely no blood. The castle was so vast, I could spend a decade searching for the records and still not find them.
But I had King Drakkar to follow. He was the single clue in Freya’s cryptic language.
With every turn, my heart beat a little faster. The next time I saw him, I’d be sober, wearingthis. A blush bloomed over my chest where the skin was bared above my breasts.Do you want someone inside of you?I laid a hand over my red skin to tame the heat.
Why had he chosen to marry me? Could he somehow sense this sick and twisted attraction I had for him?
Now with a head clear from the shock of his proposal and the wine that flowed afterward, dozens of questions took my mind captive. I didn’t have time to consider them in depth before Embla pushed through the double doors of the throne room.
Yawning ceilings stretched above us and ornate tapestries decorated the walls. For the first time, I was really seeing the details of the throne room. The room that housed the one and only true throne in all of Vylheim.
King Drakkar’s throne.
I avoided looking in that direction until the warm flush of my skin was no longer visible. Taking slow breaths, I tried to will the heat away as I focused on the rest of the room’s features.
Just like last night, the vast space was filled with courtiers and commoners alike. Tables full of soaked breads and hard cheeses, stuck pigs and berries of every color lined one side of the room. On the opposite end sat King Drakkar in his styleless throne, all gaudy bronze with wide armrests and pointed tips at the back twice as tall as the king.
Now that the heat had subsided, I marched directly toward him. I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest as his eyes fell on me. I was here because I wanted answers, not for him to look at me in this damn dress.
My heart skipped at the lie I told myself.
I seethed as the flushed heat slowly simmered again. Later, when I was alone in the bed that nearly swallowed me, I would relieve myself of this tension. Pleasuring myself would surely release this twisted craving and I’d be free of the depraved thoughts for a man I should have let Ragna kill.
King Drakkar turned at my approach, his mouth slicing into a crescent. With the eye patch removed now, his gaze roved over me, pausing too long at my bare collarbone.
His injured eye had entirely healed to its former glory, the color of ice reflecting a clear sky. Those in Mara who practiced salves and the work of healing must have been wildly skilled. He looked as if the witch had never attacked him at all.
When I was within reach, he snaked a thick forearm around my back and hooked me into him. “My wife.”
“No.” I didn’t know why I still denied it. Even after hundreds of congratulations and commoners calling me their queen, this reality hadn’t sunk in.
His brows peaked, not unlike when he came for me in Skaldir. Then, I’d run. I didn’t feel the need now. If he wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t be parading me around as his betrothed.
Hopefully.
“No?” he said.
“We’re not married.”
“In three days, we will be.”
“Three? Approval, appointing, then application?”
He laughed, the sound of it sending ripples through me. “Something like that.” With his free hand, he brought a goblet to his lips and tipped it back. The dark liquid stained his teeth red for a moment before his tongue swiped it away. I stared too long at his mouth, perhaps influenced by his behavior already. He really should get his staring problem under control. “It can do more than lick my teeth.”
“What?” I blinked at him.
