She held her elbow with her other hand. “I’m afraid you have been misinformed.”
I didn’t move—didn’t even dare breathe—biting my own tongue.
“That watchtower is locked for good reason.” She tilted her head, her diadem sparkling. “What is yours for trying to break in?”
Face pinched, I shot Freyja a glare. We’d talked about this in the ice cave, and this was not the note we’d left on. What kind of story had been spun to her mother?
Hildur smiled, and in that coldness, I saw her daughter. “You know Gunnar and Freyja weren’t the only spies on the Dyrhólaey cliffs. The birds, the wind, even the hills have eyes for their queen.”
“It’s not what it looks like.” Freyja might hate me for this next part, but I needed some ground to stand on. “Just ask the princess. I’m not your enemy, Hildur.”
The queen snapped her spine straight, her eyes flashing with ice. “I am not your friend; I am not even your acquaintance. To this kingdom, you are nothing but a prisoner—an enemy, at that. Mind your tongue. You are lucky to even address me as Your Highness.”
“Please, Your Highness.” I gritted my teeth, Source swirling in my veins, mingling with the adrenaline pushing me to run and settling in my thighs until they started to quake beneath me. “I had no idea this was going to cause so much trouble.”
“Any—all—who try to breach the realms go straight to the ice dungeons.” A chill blew over me with her threats. “This is elven law. We do not make exceptions, no matter if you’re a pixie or the highest-ranking seraphim. There’s room for everyone down there.”
I shifted on my feet. “I’m not here to start a war with you.” In one fluid clink, the guards unsheathed their weapons. “I’m here to stop it.”
Hildur raised her hand, the only thing stopping a blade from slitting my throat. But I had to act quickly—I could sense that she wouldn’t keep her loyal knights off me for long.
“A bold statement, I know, and I’m aware I don’t look like much, but I had a glimpse of that war in a vision. The death, the blood, the screams…” The scene played out in my mind, and I hadn’t realized it until now, but the people who were left scrambling and hopeless were mostly… elves. “It’s been haunting me every day since. And it took place on those very bluffs, just outside the lighthouse.”
A muscle in her eyelid twitched.
“Regardless of what I saw in the vision, I know more pain and suffering is next.” I drew in a slow breath, measuring my words. Across the dais, Freyja threw me a look that said, Careful. “It’s all part of Chthonia’s plan to bridge the realms so they can re-create hell on earth. No one is safe from that. Not even you.”
It was probably a trick of the light, but I could have sworn the queen’s face paled.
That look was just the glimmer I needed to go on. “Whatever is coming to your land is coming for us all. Finding Gaia and the rest of the Watchers might be the only thing that can stop what very well could be the apocalypse.”
“The Watchers,” the queen tsked. “What do the archangels care about the elves? Empyrea deserted our kind long ago when they left us with their broken mortals and their fallen gods.”
I tried not to sink into myself, to not let my confidence shutter. This line of thinking was exactly what Chthonia preyed on. Clearly, I wasn’t going to change the queen’s heart permanently, but maybe I could change it for a moment.
“Think about the last war you were dragged into,” I said, projecting my voice so she would not mistake my words. And maybe so the other elves in the room would hear it, too. “I know it decimated an entire village. Probably more. I know you lost family, people you love.” Behind the queen, a light flush crept over Freyja’s cheeks. “And I know you’ll do whatever it takes to stop it from happening again.”
The bloody scene from Chet’s tribunal floated to the top of my mind. My heart twisted. All those innocent lives lost. All the panic and chaos. Because of me.
“This is your chance to save your kingdom.” My eyes widened, pleading. “Release me. Let me into the watchtower. And we can figure this out with Gaia. Together.”
The queen’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I have to say, this is the most creative story I’ve heard in at least two hundred years of prisoners groveling for mercy at my feet.”
“W-what?” I was too shocked by the accusation to notice the thud of boots, the clank of steel prowling forward.
“Take her away.” She swatted the air before turning back to the dais, as if I were nothing but an annoying fly buzzing around her throne room. “Isdýflissur.”
A firm grip locked around my bicep. “No,” I begged. My other arm was captured. “No! Get off me!” I turned wild eyes on Freyja and Gunnar, but they met my panic with a coldness that turned my heart to stone.
With a rough tug that nearly pulled my arms out of their sockets, the guards dragged me across the room. The chamber doors were flung open, a loud crack reverberating off the walls—wood slamming against stone.
I knew where they were taking me. Dread pressed against my chest. I’d seen the entrance to the dungeons—that icy cellar door in the courtyard.
There’d be no miracles there.
Eyes darting to the chandelier, I funneled every drop of power rushing through my veins into each of those dangling ice crystals. As the guards bore me off, I caught a flicker of movement above.
Or maybe that was just my body, trembling with fear, panic shaking the whole room.
