“The cabin wasn’t safe? Was she worried about some kind of attack?”
Clara grimaced, shaking her head. “I have no idea. As I said, she was troubled. Paranoid. Once you were fostered, she disappeared into the basement for days or even weeks at a time. I always thought it was strange but at least Narve was there. I thought she meant to comfort him. Since it was her private space, I didn’t intrude unless invited, but one time I heard the phone ringing and she didn’t answer. I went downstairs to answer, fearing it was news about you—and she wasn’t there. Neither was Narve. I never saw them come upstairs to leave, though it’s possible they slipped past me when I slept.”
Though the way her eyes narrowed and her tone sharpened, I doubted they’d managed to slip through the house without waking her.
“A few days later, she emerged from the basement and pretended as though she’d been there all along.”
“What did she say when you questioned her?”
Clara dropped her gaze, wringing her hands. “I didn’t. I didn’t feel like it was my place to question my queen.”
Helayna sat back in her chair and leaned against the arm, seeking comfort from me. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and lightly stroked her hair, waiting for her to steady.
“Could she have traveled through a portal?” Svar asked. “Like the Isador queen?”
Myrk grunted. “Good thinking.”
“But where would she have gone?” She rubbed her face lightly against the new shirt. “She didn’t go to Reykjavík, did she?”
“No,” Clara replied. “Even after she closed the nest, we still had a skeleton crew living in the cottage on the grounds to ensure the house was well tended. They would’ve notified me at once.”
Helayna suddenly shot straight up. “You said phone.”
“Yes…?” Clara replied.
“In my head, I keep assuming everything happened in the late nineteenth century or early twentieth, but the telephone hadn’t even been invented, right? When did you discover I’d been taken?”
“1934. Why? Is that significant?”
“I don’t know.” Shock and confusion flooded our bond. “Eivind said I’d been gone for at least two hundred years. I’m not great at arithmetic in my head but that would’ve been before either of us was born. Would Mother have been messing with his memory too?”
Clara shook her head. “It’s possible, I suppose, but I doubt it. For one thing, he was never home, and I don’t think her power would’ve affected him without him being in her presence or even possibly touching him. More than likely he simply has no concept of the passing of time. Unless things have changed a great deal in the years since you were taken, he runs with the wolves.”
Helayna’s heart pained her so badly I squeezed her tighter against me, trying to ease the ache. “Maybe that’s why she had me come home once a year. Not to see me—but to ensure she could mess up my memory again.”
She allowed me to hold her for a few minutes but then my proud, strong queen lifted her face, wiped her damp cheeks, and put a determined smile on her face. “I assure all of you I won’t be using such power against any of you. I will never destroy or confuse your memories. So I swear on Lady Hel, Goddess of Darkness and Death.”
17
LOKKEN
Sitting on the Ironheart throne, our queen quietly sipped her tea, oblivious to the power slowly spreading from her. The wood was almost completely covered in fresh green sprigs. Not from any one kind of tree but a multitude of different species, from oak and maple to spruce and hawthorn. Thick roots disappeared into the ground without damaging the floors.
Even the air felt different. Charged with power ahead of a massive thunderstorm. The scent of fresh green leaves and tender shoots mixed with delicate blossoms, though I didn’t see any flowering buds.
“Let’s discuss what needs to happen to initiate a blood circle around the house.” The fresh green leaves around her quivered with delight, drawing her attention. Her eyes rounded with surprise. “Oh, goddess. Is that supposed to happen?”
“I do remember the Ironheart throne having leaves while your grandmother sat as queen,” Clara replied in a hushed voice. “But it wasn’t as lush, and I never saw them move or respond to her like that.”
Helayna’s eyes fluttered shut, her head tipping slightly as if she listened to something no one else could hear. “It wants… new blood.”
She reached toward the nearest hawthorn branch and pressed her thumb to a thorn. The short spike shuddered and immediately lengthened. More thorns bristled, rattling like tiny swords. “Did Queen Hrefna feed the throne?”
Clara clasped shaking hands together before her. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. I never saw any reference in the consiliari documents. I’m so sorry. I feel like I’m failing as your advisor in all things Aima. I didn’t have long enough with the queen to know these things before she passed.”
“It wants more than a few drops.” Helayna raised her gaze to me. “What’s involved in setting a blood circle?”
Everyone stared at me expectantly. “I’ve never seen one completed,” I reminded them. “It’s something only the queen and her Blood do, and I’ve never served before. In short, simple facts, the queen drops blood onto the ground in a complete circle around the nest. Once the circle is closed, no one may cross that boundary without carrying the queen’s blood, unless one of us physically touches them and brings them across into the nest.”
