The walk must have taken the better half of the day. My legs were screaming; my stomach, grumbling, my eyes and any visible skin, stinging.
Finally, we approached the castle grounds.
Two enormous columns of ice flanked the opening of an outer wall—as if keeping watch. Just beyond it, the pathway ended abruptly. The castle glistened on the other side of a moat.
A crack thundered on the air. The left column had started shaking then lifted the lower block of its build, which happened to be in the shape of a foot. It crashed onto the ground, snow flurrying beneath its frozen toes.
My gaze flew up the chiseled ice that made up its ankle, its knee, its leg, my eyes widening at the jagged pieces making up its torso, chest, shoulders, neck, and finally, its diamond-shaped head. Pupils blinked to life, little sapphires beaming beneath frosted brows.
Shriveling in the shadow of this glacial behemoth, I almost forgot about the other one—almost. But then it too withdrew from the wall, the ice cracking and grumbling as it stretched its joints after who knew how long.
Both lumbered forward and, in a powerful movement much swifter than I expected, clinked their spears together and thrust them to the ground, forming an X across the path.
“Who goes there?” the giant directly in front of me bellowed.
I shrank into myself.
Gunnar held his fist against his heart. “Gunnar Stelpths, third son of Rohan and Romedyr, Eye of the Queen.”
“And I,” Freyja said, stepping forward and mirroring Gunnar’s gestures. “Freyja Argon, first daughter of Odin and Hildur, Eye of the Queen.”
“There are three,” the guardian on the left rasped, as if his vocal cords had been frozen and were finally thawing. “Name yourself.”
I would have, but the syllables caught in my throat.
Freyja’s gray eyes narrowed on me. I could practically hear her thoughts commanding me to speak.
“Now would be a good time,” she muttered. “Their preferred method of punishment is stomping.”
“R-River,” I squeaked. “First, um, first daughter of Corbin and Mira Harlow.”
See? I was no one interesting.
Freyja raised an eyebrow at me. “Your title?”
Was hoping no one would catch that.
I tapped my foot in time with my racing heart. Keeping it generic, like angel, felt like the best option—at least, until I knew the elves could be fully trusted.
But then I made the mortal mistake of dropping my gaze, which went straight to the ice monster’s foot—the same foot that would rather stomp me to smithereens, that had dark brown, almost red flecks along its sole—and it just came tumbling out of me. “Angel of Water.”
Gunnar and Freyja went lethally still.
Bringing my hands behind my back, I feverishly picked at my cuticles, raising my chin in false hubris. Hopefully they didn’t see through it.
Hopefully they didn’t hear each twist of my gut, each frantic pound of my pulse.
Hopefully they hadn’t sworn allegiance to Chthonia.
Guess I’d find out soon enough.
The weapons clanged and I flinched, but the guardians only lumbered to the side, their spears pointed to the sky, not my heart.
Behind them, the drawbridge lowered with a groan. They were allowing us to pass. My breath caught in my chest.
“Welcome to Lokahryggur, also known as Hamarinn, Kingdom of the Huldufólk.”
With their massive, sculptured bodies no longer blocking the way, it was a straight shot across the bridge to the pristine inner courtyard, sweeping birch trees peeking through the portcullis.
