Page 80 of Vow of the Undead
When he twisted to see me behind him, I squinted through the sheets of rain to see he was pointing across the hill at the same stone Valkyrie. Nodding, I swept water away from my eyes and hurried to catch up with him.
His narrowed eyes and lifted chin made him look so determined. So confident in what we were about to do.
But I had no idea what that could be.
“Was Ingrid like me?” I asked, referring to the woman he’d mentioned earlier. “Or did she know how to pass the trials?”
“She did the best she could with the knowledge she had. She was a witch like you, but she was discovered and promptly punished for it, so she didn’t have a lot of freedom to explore the Gods’ guidance.”
“Exile?”
I didn’t ask if she was executed.
He tilted his head, seemingly understanding myconfusion. “Not everyone has the same punishment. Not when the king takes pity. King Roderic had taken Ingrid as one of his favored women before he knew she was a witch. When she was outed, he kept her close by deeming her punishment a lifetime as an executioner. I found her not long after, and she tried to become the huntress, but she could not handle the Gods’ power. It drove her mad. But you…” he paused at the grave and turned to me. “You’re aware of your limits.”
“I have to be,” I said, flexing my cold fingers.
His gaze rippled from my hands back to my face. A glimmer of pride, or hope, or perhaps admiration coated his soft eyes. “It makes you strong.”
“I doubt strength will raise a vampire from deep sleep.” I waved my hand at the grave.
“Awareness will. The answer will be unique to you.”
I stared at him as if he’d suddenly provide an answer and deliver an explanation to me, but the only movement on his stoic face was the rain streaming down in little rivers. I trailed his line of sight back to the grave.
The Valkyrie with a broken wing lay with her body draped over the headstone, her face hidden in her arm. Her stony hair looked as smooth as if it were real waves and her wing was sculpted so carefully it could have been real feathers, which gave the whole sculpture an ethereal look among the pouring storm that could not soak her hair or send her feathers shuddering with the wind.
My eyes fell to the soil beneath her. Digging wasn’t a smart option because vampires didn’t wake simply by exposure to the air. I had Freya’s visions, perhaps I could run and push myself to break to glimpse an idea. Except that this was Loki’s trial, and he hadn’t spoken to me.
I scraped my brain for an idea.
“Each huntress’s Call is personal,” Kayn shouted over the deafening rain.
I looked up at him while he kept his eyes on the grave. “Huntress?” I’d heard it before but every time I said it, the word tasted sour. I didn’t like the connotations that came withhuntress.
“It is what you will become when you pass Odin’s trial,” he said. I swallowed a curse and turned back to the grave. “If you consider what behaviors make you who you are, it’d help narrow your unique abilities down.”
I knelt over the grave, my hand brushing the stalks of grass that had grown over it. The grass squelched beneath my feet and it felt as though I was sinking into the earth one breath at a time. Was the storm more of Loki’s chaos?
I closed my eyes for a moment, and the rush of the rain splattering the ground faded. When I opened my eyes, a spot of red drew my attention. A single red petal, like blood among all the green, quivered in the breeze as it caught between two blades of grass. I picked it up, examining the spidery veins as I rubbed the soft velvety texture between my thumb and forefinger. Looking up, I scanned the graveyard but couldn’t spot where the petal had come from. No rose bushes grew anywhere near the abandoned ruins.
I pressed my hand against the soil, as if I could feel the shape of the sleeping vampire beneath. “What can I do?” I whispered.
The only person who’d know the answer was slipping away.
A sob caught at the center of my chest. My heart thumped painfully as I thought of existing in this world knowing my mother was gone. When she was in exile, I planned to go to her, someday, to see her again, to thank her for always teaching me the truth, and most of all, for believing me.
That was all different now that I’d found her here, but if I failed the trials where would she end up? She couldn’t survive in The Forsaken Hall forever. Not now that King Drakkar knew where she was. Not with the council of monsters dragging witches and anyone they could grab to sea.
I could not fail.
A bang echoed from behind us and I startled. Kayn and I whipped around to see Stasia running toward us. “She’s worse! Her heart’s even slower now.”
“Shit,” I breathed.
Kayn crouched beside me, his voice steady. “Take it slow. What is a skill you know well?”
Working on Ragna’s farm. Whispering the sagas with my mother. I could run but was never skilled at it, and my visions were sporadic and the result of beating my body into the ground. Did I have to do that for Loki’s trial too?
