CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
They were led up several flights of stairs, the princess chatting away as they walked. On the fourth floor, they were led down a long hall to bedrooms.
“Here you go. You’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep here, I think.”
Erin walked in first, nodding as a servant lit torches so she could see everything clearly. “Perfect.”
“Oh, excellent! Then rest well, my friends.”
“Thank you, Princess. For everything.”
The princess, her entourage, the servant, and her guards quietly left; the elves never made a sound. Once the door closed behind them, Stieg watched that smile slowly fade from Erin’s face until he saw nothing but the hard Crow who once stabbed him in the leg because he got between her and a demon she was trying to kill.
Her eyes were like sharp glass as she moved to the bed, sitting on it, her legs hanging over the edge.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Erin put her finger to her lips, silencing him. She motioned him over with her hand and he sat beside her. Before he could do or say anything, she jumped to her feet, walked to the door, and pressed her ear against it. A few seconds later, her nose scrunched up in annoyance.
Guards stood outside the door. Not that Stieg was surprised.
She stalked to the other side of the room and studied the stained glass window. She pushed something in the corner and the window opened.
Stieg watched her crawl outside and followed her, leaning out the window to see what Erin was up to. She stood on the ledge, staring down. He looked down, too, seeing nothing but more soldiers and guards. And archers. Archers who could knock them out of the sky if they tried to fly.
Erin looked up and before he knew it, the woman was climbing up the side of the building. Why? Because she was insane. And yet he followed.
He expected her to go straight to the top, especially since he didn’t see any soldiers hanging over the roof, but she stopped at the top floor window and gazed in. He wondered what she could see. It wasn’t as if it was clear glass. It was beveled. She pried the window open and disappeared inside.
Stieg sighed, wondering what the crazy Crow was up to now, but he followed anyway.
No wonder the odds on Erin Amsel making it back were 100 to 1 in favor of her being dead in the first five minutes.
* * *
She rolled through the window and immediately got to her feet.
The black-and-gold-haired elf inside glanced up from his work, but showed no sign of fear or even surprise. “What do you want?”
Erin pointed. “My weapons, to start.”
Silken black robes swirled around the extremely tall elf as he seemed to glide across the room until he reached the long wood table where her weapons were laid out.
The elf lifted one of her blades, handmade by Vig Rundstöm. “This,” he said, holding the blade by its tip, “is not a Valkyrie weapon. Nor are the runes that you and your companion have burned on your flesh representative of the gods of the Valkyries or Giant Killers. I noticed them when I was dealing with your wounds. Princess Uathach has asked me to translate them.”
“Why can’t she translate runes herself?”
“The Aesir never allowed elves to learn their language. They felt it would be giving them too much power. Instead, we have our own rune language. The few of us who can translate the Aesir runes are usually witches because strong blood-magics are required.”
Erin briefly debated lying, but she knew there was no purpose. Not with this one. “Did you translate the runes for her?”
“If I had, you’d have been dead hours ago. The runes on these weapons and the runes on your bodies spell out exactly what you are and those you both worship. Very foolish.”
“We don’t normally shy away from conflict.”
“Except now. Not that I blame you. The princess has a rather unhealthy lust for gameplay. And her games are not to everyone’s tastes. I’m sure they won’t be to yours.”
“Are they to yours?”
The elf carefully placed the blade back on the table, taking a moment to align it with the others. His care was obsessive.
Obsessives were the most fun.
“Used to be. Long time ago. Most of us age and change. She does not.” With the blades perfectly lined up, he gestured to the walls around them. “Does this seem like the kind of place for elves like the princess?”
Erin smirked. “No. It doesn’t.”
“That’s because a few centuries ago, this was dark elf territory. You are in what was once Svartalfheim.”
“I thought we were in Alfheim.”
“No, no. The entrance into Alfheim from Jotunheim was closed off long ago by the elves. They feared the giants coming in and stomping them to death. We’re immortal, but not that immortal.”
“You don’t seem to fit here, either,” Erin noted.
“Unlike the princess, I fit nowhere. My mother was of Svartalfheim, my father of Alfheim, which means I have no true home.”
“I get that. My mother’s Jewish, my father’s Catholic, but both are more agnostic, which made my bat mitzvah slash confirmation quite the event with the rest of my über-religious families.” She shrugged. “Cops were called before the night was out.”
The elf smiled and she saw fangs. Neither the princess nor her entourage had fangs.
“What would make a human such as you and your friend”—he nodded toward a still-silent Stieg—“attempt a trek through this territory?”
“I’m on a quest and I’m running out of time.”
“A quest for what?”
Hedging, Erin replied, “I need to stop the goddess Gullveig from starting Ragnarok.”
He snorted. “Gullveig? I remember her. She is . . . a problem for you and your precious Aesir gods. She loathes all of them for what they did to her.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t have time to sit around here, playing games with your princess.”
The elf turned away, moving to another table. “She’s not my princess. No one is my anything.”
“We can’t stay here,” Erin calmly insisted.
He faced her again. “You act like you have a choice. She’s not going to let you go. You and your oversized friend are her entertainment. She plans to use you for as long as she can.”
“And when we’re no longer entertaining?”
“How do you people put it? Ah, yes . . . she’ll throw you to the wolves. Literally. The forest is filled with wolves.”
Erin looked at Stieg and he nodded, agreeing with her. They’d gotten really good at communicating with each other without saying a word.
She walked over to the elf, leaned against his table. “What’s your name?”
“Dualtach the Witch.”
“Well, Dualtach the Witch, tell me what we can do in a short amount of time to become less entertaining.”
The elf gazed down at Erin, his eyes searching every part of her face. She didn’t turn away; she waited. Patiently.
He eventually moved to another window and stared out into the darkness. She couldn’t tell if he was contemplating her request or if he saw something. Or more important, if he saw something. The mystical shit.
Whatever it was, he finally told her, “Take your weapons, hide them on your person, and go back to your room. And if I were you, I’d go very quickly.”
Erin didn’t know how to read that, but she grabbed her weapons and put them on under her clothes. The only two things she couldn’t find . . . “I need the hand and the map.”
“Be careful,” he said, still staring out the window and ignoring her request, “on your way back. The walls have eyes here.”
Stieg touched her arm and gestured to the window they’d used to get in. Realizing she didn’t have any other choice, Erin went.
Before she could climb out, the witch said to her, “You are very calm for a human. I strongly suggest you keep that up. The less you give the princess, the more . . . spontaneous she will be. It could work in your favor.”
Erin nodded at his recommendation, and climbed out the window first. Stieg followed and down they went to the bedroom they’d been given.
Once back in their room, they sat down on the bed, side by side, their thighs touching. After several minutes of silence, they looked at each other. Looked away. Looked at each other. Looked away. Looked . . .
Stieg abruptly stood and went to the head of the bed. He placed his hand against the wall and moving slowly, he walked from the bed all the way down the length of the room, perpendicular to the wall, his hand dragging along the stone. When he reached the end, he began to do the same to the next wall—the wall that faced the bed they were to share. He suddenly stopped, his head twitching the slightest bit. Balling up his fist, he rammed it into the wall.
Erin watched, fascinated, as he pummeled the stone into submission with both hands, putting a sizable hole into it. He shook out his battered fists before digging his right hand into the hole.
When he looked back at Erin—she knew.
* * *
She charged over to Stieg’s side, waiting until he’d managed to get the elf male watching them halfway out of the hole. She grabbed the elf by his finery and together they dragged him out and slammed him to the ground.
When the elf witch had warned them that the walls have eyes, Stieg had thought he meant the other elves would rat them out if they found them roaming the halls. But as he and Erin had sat on the bed, silently trying to figure out what to do next, they’d sensed—as only humans with the instincts of birds can—that they were no longer alone. That they were being watched.
For entertainment. Just as Dualtach had said. And what’s the best entertainment for adults? A human sex show.
The thought clearly irritated Erin, considering the way she was stomping the elf into the cold stone floor. She was a little thing, but those legs of hers—after years of gymnastics and ballet training—were mighty.
She kicked the elf in the head a few times until she was sure he was unconscious. Then she looked up at Stieg . . . and smiled.
They grabbed the elf again and lifted him to his feet, dragging him across the floor until they reached what was quickly becoming their favorite window. With a hearty grunt, they flipped him up and over and out the open window.
Unfortunately for the elf, he woke up in time to realize what was happening, his screams echoing off the walls as he fell and fell . . . until the screaming was brutally cut short.
Erin cringed a bit. “That had to hurt.”
In the distance, they could hear the calls of the guards and screams of horror from the royals.
Stieg and Erin sat down to wait.
It took almost ten minutes before the bedroom door slammed open and the guards flowed in, followed by a seething princess. She wore a very thin nightshirt that hid nothing—she might as well have been naked—and her several feet of blondish-brown hair appeared artfully tousled.
Erin leaned over and whispered, “Bet she was hooking up with her brother.”
Disgusted, Stieg pushed her face away. The woman had been binge-watching too many cable shows.
The princess stalked up to them. “Can’t you two just do what you would normally do anyway? Like good little pets. Must you make things so difficult? Just”—she waved at them—“perform!”
Stieg exchanged a glance with Erin. Her smile was so intense, he actually saw her dimples.
Then, without warning, Erin backhanded the princess into the pit fire, nearly setting the She-elf on fire.
The guards were on them in seconds, dragging Stieg to his knees, putting a thick chain around his throat and metal cuffs on his wrists. They did the same to Erin but didn’t make her get on her knees.
The princess was helped up by her guards, who patted her down to put out the smattering of flames.
Pushing the guards off, she moved to stand before the prisoners and leaned in close to Erin, her voice no longer soft and alluring as it had been, but hard as glass. “Don’t worry, human. I have a game that you can’t help but play.”