It’s not like the jelmadag could be rehabilitated. Evil was in his DNA. If he ever escaped… it’d be not only a threat to Hamarinn, but a danger to the realm, like Olivia had said.
Hildur had the means to banish this being back to his home dimension. Why not do it, then?
Shadows from the burning torch danced across my wrist. I stared into the flames. There were others in this castle with no means of escape. Other captives. Other cages.
I must’ve said that out loud because the jelmadag answered, “Power doesn’t always come from virtuous means.”
The stick trembled in my hand. “The queen is using you to strengthen her powers? Why, because her own is dwindling? Are you loyal to her?”
His jowls parted on a toothy yawn. The force of it blew my hair back. The fire sputtered. My nostrils burned. “I am loyal to no one here.”
“Then what happens when the Galdur fails? Will you…” I gulped. “Eat everyone?”
“Unfortunately for me,” the creature said, rolling onto his back, all four paws, and that awkward hoof, dangling in the air, “she’s discovered a solution to keep it running at the bare minimum.”
“How? Collecting beings like yourself?” Anticipation ran through me. “Then what does she do with you?”
A sleepy growl rumbled in response. “You ask a lot of questions. If it wasn’t obvious, I would like to be left alone.”
My head slumped. “Sorry.”
“You needn’t say it again.”
“Sor…” I cut myself off, the distinct sound of claw scraping stone bringing my shoulders to my ears. I peered down the hall, into the gloom.
The chill I’d been fighting snaked up my spine.
“You’re still standing there.”
Resisting the urge to apologize, I twisted the hem of my shirt. “Leaving now,” I said, not interested in learning what else lurked beyond the veil of ice and shadow.
I backed away, the outline of the cell fading into the blackness as if it never existed, as if it were nothing but a forgotten corner in a moldy basement.
Only when the ground began to slope, taking me to the upper levels, did I turn forward.
The energy hit me immediately—a dozen vicious gazes striking me like harpoons. I glanced over my shoulder, the torch juddering in my shaky hand.
A voice lilted through the chamber. “We’re all prisoners here, one way or another. A lack of chains doesn’t equal freedom.”
The jelmadag’s parting words hung in the air, haunting me with those invisible stares all the way up the ramp. Even when the first floor appeared through the archway ahead, I could feel them, hear them, my gut a pit of wild nerves.
As the next cellblock popped out of the void, the faintest hint of illumination streaking through the overhead grates, I couldn’t help but feel like one of them. My cell just wasn’t four glacial walls. It was worse.
It was the illusion of freedom.
The queen’s favors, her excuses, the room on the top floor… We’re all prisoners here, one way or another.
Low wails drifted into the corridor, their familiar timbre tickling my ears. I kept my head straight, kept my feet moving, but the mere proximity of him seemed to wrap around my senses, grabbing me by the chin, saying, Look at me, baby, look at me.
I halted in the middle of the walkway.
A jolt of something beautiful, something dangerous, pulsed in my chest. All of a sudden, it was as if gravity shifted. All of a sudden, I was in front of his cell.
Ryder. He was right where I left him. On his knees, his head bowed, hair frosted. Stiller than a statue, reverent even, as if he were in deep, dutiful prayer.
I had to fight every impulse not to wrap my hands around the bars, not to push the icy locks out of his face.
“You’re back.” His voice was so weak. So quiet.
