Page 162 of Master of Storms
He lay there, gasping.
Around him, the sounds of fighting dwindled. Most of his cohort were bleeding, and some fled.
Grabbing a fistful of Tyndyr’s hair, she hauled his face up and set her sword to his throat. “Look at them run. You’ve spent a thousand years waiting for this moment, and it crumbles before you. I want you to see it. I want you to know it. You are defeated before you are even begun.”
A broken laugh wheezed through his lungs. “You think we’ve lost? Have you ever played chess? This was all a gambit. Capturethe queenand you have won the war.”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” she mocked. “At last count we had three of them here, and all are accounted for.”
“Are they? We’ve won. We’ve won, and you don’t even know it yet. They’re in Álfheimrnow. Both of them.”
She went still. “Both?”
Andromeda was nearby, fussing with Draco’s face. The skin around his eyes looked burned, and while he snarled, he obliged her.
Where was Freyja?
She should have been right there by her husband…. But even as Solveig looked, the image of the queen dissolved into a handful of leaves. And Marduk was curled over Rurik as if he sobbed on his chest.
Rurik….She could see the franticness in the Blackfrost’s actions as he tried to shift Marduk off his brother.
And a very real fear filled her: The king must be dead.
It would break Marduk’s heart.
But she couldn’t let herself give into emotion, not now.
She forced herself to focus on the elf. “Who is ‘both’?”
“The Chaos bitch and the queen. My king doesn’t need your pathetic little key. He has Ishtar now. He can open the portal and return at the head of an army.”
Solveig punched him in the mouth.
And then she forced herself to look past him.
To Árdís, her teeth bared as she wielded a spirit-form of glowing green magic. To Andromeda, casting cyclones of Chaos from her fingertips as if she was spinning children’s tops as an elf slowly stalked her. To Bryn, driving her metal-gauntleted fist into analfarjaw. To Malin, fierce in herdrekiform as she lashed her tail and sent one of thealfarflying. To Viveka, fighting her way toward her brother.
“One queen is off the board,” she told him. “But the thing you have never understood is that true queens are not kings. We do not consider ourselves in absolutes, and we do not consider ourselves alone. There are many queens here. And if there is one thing queens do, it is to uphold other queens. You have taken one of ours, and we will get her back. We will get them both back. And then we will show your petty little king what we think of war.”
“Do it,” he rasped, as her sword drew his blood.
Solveig let him see her smile, knowing the gleam of the wolf filled it. Most of the time she kept the hunter within her contained, but this was not that moment. “Don’t think I don’t want to. But I have other plans in mind for you, you piece of filth. Your men stole my mate’s sister and sister-in-law. And the gates are currently closed. But you’re not the only one who’s been researching his enemy.” She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I know who you truly are. And if the King of Álfheimr wants his bastard son back in one piece, then he will ensure Ishtar and Freyja’s safety.”
“He won’t offer them for me.”
“Oh, I think he will.” She looked up as Haakon strode toward her, his burnished armor rusted with elvish blood. “Haakon. Do you have your manacles?”
The dragon-slayer hauled Tyndyr’s hands behind his back and locked the dwarven iron around his wrists. They were unbreakable, and could only be removed if Haakon truly willed it. “You’re needed elsewhere. Go. I’ve got him.”
Needed elsewhere….
Solveig straightened and surveyed the battlefield, following the tilt of Haakon’s head to where Árdís and Andromeda were kneeling by Rurik.
Or no, not so much Rurik.
Marduk.
Her heart sank like lead. Her veins filled with ice. “Marduk?”
