Glancing past Gunnar’s shoulder, I raised my brows. “Could be your last opportunity.”
His chuckle reverberated to my core. “Morbid, Riv.”
“What else is there to be right now?”
The ghost of a smile tugging at her lips, Freyja rolled her eyes. “Unless you want to include the dozen or so guards likely heading our way, I say we get the hell out of here.”
We broke apart, all of us dabbing our eyes, stuck somewhere between a laugh and a cry.
Then my friends sprinted into one of a dozen narrow passageways, their swift footfalls echoing off the stone until they disappeared.
Again, I was alone.
I stepped into the corridor, the shadows moving and breathing as if they were watching, as if they were curious.
Flashes of movement and color wavered in the archway that led to the arena. The crowd was ready. Pulse thundering in my ears, I trudged towards them.
Something cracked beneath my boot. I lifted it to see the snapped ivory stick beneath—a bone.
Raising my chin, I kept my eyes forward, focused, ignoring the skeletal remains in the row of empty cells on my left, the stone pillars piercing the empty void of blackness on my right. My heart was an erratic thud in my chest. It was the only thing I could feel, hear—that, and the drumbeat of fear, a steady roar that grew louder with every step.
Source riled like a caged beast, a persistent, desperate pulse in my fingers, but there was no anchor in here. No life, no elements, just dust and darkness.
“River.”
“Jesus!” I shouted, nearly jumping out of my own skin.
Flóki crept out from behind a wide, pointed arch. “Oh, were you expecting him?”
“Um, I—” Resisting the urge to place my hand over my pounding heart, I spat, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to wish you good luck.” I hated that grin—it was so sleazy, so slimy, his icy blue eyes almost translucent in this light.
“Not needed.” I crossed my arms, a shield. “Especially when all you do is speak lies.”
He chuckled, eating up my fury as if it were something sweet. “I may have done a lot of things, but I never told a lie.”
“You gave me half-truths. Same thing.”
“Would you rather be in Grýla’s cauldron?”
I bared my teeth.
“Fine.” His tongue darted over his canine. “I may have left some parts out.”
With a sharp inhale, I tightened my fists at my sides. “You pushed me to do this—you knew it’d be my last resort.”
“Let me make it up to you.” He took a vial out of his pocket, delicately rolling it between his fingers. “I come bearing gifts.”
Gaze narrowing in on the jar of bright green liquid, I took a giant step back.
“Reindeer lichen.” He closed the space between us, shoes crackling on the grit, the bones. “Grows on the sides of these mountains. In a highly concentrated form, it’s extremely toxic. It can kill even the strongest man in ten seconds.” Holding it up, he caught a shaft of light, presenting it as if it were ibuprofen and not something that could kill me in a few agonizing heartbeats.
My eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at, Flóki? You want me to kill myself?”
“That’s a bit extreme, River, even for you.” Grabbing my wrist, he placed the vial in my palm. “This is diluted. It won’t kill you, but it can paralyze you long enough to fake it.”
“I don’t want your gifts,” I gritted out, reluctant to show the tiniest hint of emotion, of the fear that threatened to undo me. “I want to know why.”
