Strong arms shoved Aros into a dark room, as the guards did their duty.
He’d pleaded for the king to hear him out, and it was to no avail.
King Rollo never gave any of them a chance, and the heavy weight of failure settled over Aros’ shoulders.
The creaking, barred door was slammed shut and Aros was left alone in a dungeon cell beneath the palace. It was a small space, with wet hay strewn about the stone floor, and a single chamber pot that smelled of piss in the back corner. There was no light, only slivers of the sun’s rays came in from the tiny windows high up at the top of the cells.
This was not supposed to happen. Everything had gone wrong within seconds, and there was nothing Aros could do about it. For once, he was completely helpless.
Enit and Eris had led him here to prepare the Fenrir king.
He stood there, hands around the bars, forehead pressed to the cool steel. He had to think of a solution. Thinking was his profession, but nothing came to mind as he weighed every option.
King Rollo had already taken sides. He hadn’t even let him speak his business, and expected his arrival. If he served Einar, Amalia and the dragons were in even greater danger than he'd imagined. They not only had to worry about the Brotherhood, Einar, and the creatures along the way.
The Wolves would be coming for her, and he was imprisoned.
Utterly useless.
“Aros?” Magnus called, breaking him from his thoughts. “Helgi?”
He looked up, and wiped tears from his eyes. "Aye, everyone all right?"
“Bloody hell,” Helgi said. "What good those fancy clothes did for us. Sitting in filth and shite. Just brilliant.”
“We're fine,” Magnus said. “At least we’re alive.”
“For now,” Helgi added.
“The king had no reason to condemn us. We’ve done nothing wrong. He will see there has been a mistake and set us free,” Magnus said.
“Unlikely.”
“Shut it, Helgi,” Magnus snarled. “You’re not helping.”
Aros waited, listening for Eostre. When she didn't speak up, panic rose in his chest.
“Eostre?”
No reply.
“Have either of you seen her be go into a cell?”
"I don't think they locked her away down here," Magnus said, his voice quieting.
“Maybe she's in another dungeon,” Helgi reasoned. “One where he keeps women.”
“I’m not sure that’s preferable,” Magnus said. “I’d rather she were kept with us so that we could keep an eye on her.”
Helgi slammed his fist into the bars. “We were supposed to look after her. A pretty girl, defenseless.”
Aros squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think of what could happen to her.
He gripped the bars, his fists tightening as he clenched his jaw.
He would not be known as the Wolf who leads women to danger. He would escape. One way or another.
“Enit,” Aros called, softly into the silence of the dark and stale dungeon. “Eris. I beseech you to protect her.”
For the first time since he was visited by the gods, he began to wonder what game they played, and if any of the humans, Wolves, dragons, elves, or fae had any chance.
“The gods can’t here you down here, boy,” a scratchy voice said from the cell across from Aros.
He gasped and tried to peer ahead into the darkness, and into the cell before him.
Brown fingers wrapped around the bars across from him, and he stumbled backward, tripping and falling onto his bottom at what he saw emerge from the darkness.
A creature, made of tree bark and leaves appeared, its slim face lit by two, glowing, yellow eyes.
“Why the surprise?” it said. “Never seen a dryad before?”
Aros swallowed, shaking his head.
Vines and branches were wrapped around its arms and jutted from his shoulders and neck like that of a tree. He was humanoid, with two arms and two legs, a torso that resembled the base of an oak, and a broad chest that stood out from its thin body.
Aros blinked as butterflies flapped their wings and fluttered around its head.
A rush of cold washed over his face as an idea finally came to him.
Perhaps the gods were with him after all.