Page 22 of Master of Storms
But a mere three months was possibly a new record.
“I am here for one reason, and one reason only,” she continued, leaning forward and directing that predatory stare upon Rurik. “Apparently, the portal at World’s End was opened to Álfheimr. I need to be able to protect my people, and while I believed we were allied with theZini—courtesy of my sacrifice—I seem to have been somewhat mistaken, because you’ve been keeping secrets… and allies don’t do that.”
Rurik didn’t so much as blink as he steepled his fingers together. “Your father is aware.”
“He is?” Her eyebrows rose.
“I sent a messenger two days ago,” Rurik replied.
Solveig’s fingers drummed on the table. “You’ve known for three months. Why only send a messenger now?”
Nobody could manage to look as smug as Rurik could. “Because apparently, my first one didn’t get through. We found the remains of his body only last week.”
Marduk pressed the tip of his tongue to his teeth. There was a great deal more that his brother wasn’t saying, but he needed to follow his lead.
The answer clearly soothed some of Solveig’s ruffled feathers. “And now?”
Rurik turned those amber eyes upon Marduk. “Elves in my lands. An attack upon my brother. Tyndyr tricked Ishtar into opening the portal once, but he failed in his quest. If he’s here in Iceland, then he’s coming for her again.”
Ishtar blinked in surprise. “Me?” Her whisper echoed in his head. She rarely spoke out loud, preferring to communicate on a psychic level—when she chose to do so at all.
“We’ll keep you safe,” Marduk promised, settling a hand on the back of her chair. “We suspect they wish to use your magic to open the portal again.”
She shook her head. “I won’t do it.”
“I know.” She’d been horrified to learn that Tyndyr had manipulated her into opening it in the first place.
“I thought he was my friend,” she’d whispered sadly.
“The court is locked and warded,” Haakon said. “After… recent events, nobody’s getting in or out without us knowing. She’ll be safe here.”
Ishtar shrank a little, and Marduk squeezed her shoulder three times. It was their little code. A reminder that said he loved her.
“I’ll watch over her,” Tormund, who had appointed himself her guardian, promised.
A sharp rap came at the door.
“Come in,” Rurik replied.
The door opened, revealing the lore master’s youngest daughter, Elin. Her father had recently been incapacitated by a mysterious illness, and she spent most of her time nursing him back to health and dealing with his tasks. Rurik had mentioned she was thinking of following in her father’s footsteps as lore mistress of the clan.
“Your Highness,” Elin said, setting a book down in front of Rurik. “You requested more information about thealfarand what they might be after. And I think I have found something.” She flipped the book open, running her finger down the page. “It was said during the great wars betweendrekiandalfarthat thedrekistole the King of Álfheimr’s wife in order to defeat them. She was supposed to be returned during a parley, but I have been poring over my father’sdrekihistories, and I ran across this little paragraph.” She altered her voice as if she was reading, “Treachery was to be the key of the day, and so treachery it was. When the King of Álfheimr met with King Rodan of thedrekinations, they stood upon World’s End and pledged their peace. The elvish king would retreat to his home world with his wife, as freely gifted by Rodan. And the gates would be locked with the Key of Chaos.”
Rurik frowned. “So they wish to renew their war?”
“They wish to find their queen,” Elin corrected, biting her lip. “From what I can make of this, King Rodan was shot with an arrow. The peace was shattered, the elvish queen was never surrendered, and the King of Álfheimr was forced to retreat through the portal. Thedrekithen used the Key of Chaos to lock the gates… with the elvish queen on this side of them.”
“So they’re looking for their queen?” Marduk asked. “If this Tyndyr has been trapped on this side of the portal for all these years, then why has he not found her?”
Elin shrugged. “I know nothing of the elvish queen beyond these few sentences. I’ve never heard her mentioned before.”
Queen Freyja frowned. “My mother spoke of some of the circles that litter the countryside. She used to say it was never safe to enter them, for sometimes, when the world’s aligned, one could step through and find themselves in Álfheimr. On Winter’s Solstice, she said if you listened closely you could hear the elvish queen crying out, for she was trapped within one of the circles, forever searching for a way to return home.”
Elin glanced at her a little disdainfully. “You could spend a thousand years waiting for the worlds to align in the correct formation. That sounds like human superstition to me, Your Highness.”
Freyja tilted her eyebrow at the young drekling. It wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to facedrekiprejudice about her human heritage. “Where do you think human superstitions come from? They are stories, Elin, passed down through generation after generation. Perhaps there is some truth in it, no? For Marduk said that World’s End is one such circle, bound by thirteen enormous lintel stones. Anditleads to Álfheimr.”
“We will look into it,” Rurik promised her, squeezing her hand.
