That didn’t seem right for a guard.
With a narrowed gaze, I looked away from Freyja, readying myself to address the queen.
Every thought evaporated when I met her pale violet eyes. They flared brighter, rooting me to the spot, sucking all the oxygen out of me. A voice inside me screamed to look away, but it was so small, so faint, it was easily swallowed by the magic, by her beauty—a natural beauty as rare and moving as if she had been sculpted from the mountains.
My legs shook, knees giving in to an overwhelming pull to a kneel. I didn’t necessarily care to fight the urge. I had already forgotten where I was, what I wanted. I was ready to swear fealty. I was ready to give her everything.
And then the elf queen turned away, her strawberry-blonde strands whispering over her lap. It broke the spell, her glamour ceasing, my lungs and muscles spasming, my knees locking rigidly to standing. My next inhale was a wheezing gasp.
Mantle trailing behind her, the queen descended from the dais. Her beaded silk dress hugged her tall, lithe frame, swishing with every silent step. Her eyes pierced me, but they’d changed, darkened, more of a deep indigo now. I couldn’t tell if it was scrutiny or curiosity that flickered in her gaze.
The guards looked tense as she approached me—muscles ticking in jaws, eyes locked on every movement.
I tapped the sides of my thighs. Should I smile? Wave?
One of the soldiers behind her shifted their weight, grasping their pommel.
I gulped. Nope, I wasn’t going to do a damn thing. I brought my hands together, and even that might get me tackled at this point.
A brilliant smile pushed the queen’s strong cheekbones higher. “Thank you, my gracious Eyes, for escorting our guest to the realm of the Huldufólk.”
Guest. That’s the last thing I considered myself—I’d been warned against it, actually.
Was this a test?
Gunnar and Freyja swept into bows so low their noses might’ve touched the floor. “It is our honor, Queen Hildur.”
Hildur. That name rang a bell. Freyja had said it when we announced ourselves to the giants.
And then she’d kissed the elf queen upon arrival.
Then she’d taken a seat next to her on the dais.
Our conversation in the ice cave played out in my head: father passed away, mother too busy, raised in the castle. My stomach dropped. Freyja wasn’t just the most treasured Eye of the Queen, she was her daughter.
She was the princess.
I dug my nails into my palms. Whatever. She had her secrets, and I had mine. And now they were all out in the open.
“So,” Hildur said, peering down her nose at me, her tawny skin radiant and flawless—like her daughter’s. There were no other sounds, except the drag of fabric, as she slowly circled me; it felt like my heart had ceased to even beat. “What is your name?”
“River,” I managed to say without my voice cracking.
“River.” She stressed each syllable, testing it out. “What are you doing in my kingdom?”
My gaze slipped from her face, wandering over the crowd.
Heat seared the back of my neck. Was I really supposed to explain it all now? There must have been two hundred people in this room, half of them armed guards.
Drawing in a sharp inhale, I held it and counted to ten. Afraid to move—afraid to speak.
“Go on,” the queen urged, now on her second lap around me. “Explain yourself.”
“I’m looking for the Angel of Earth. I tried her watchtower, but as you know, it’s locked.” I started out strong, until murmurs from the assembled elves had anxiety clawing at me from the inside out all over again.
Hildur’s long fingers came to rest beneath her chin. I took it as a silent command to go on.
“I’m told you might be able to, uh, assist with that,” I continued, fighting to keep the fear brewing within me from playing across my face.
