My waist cleared the doorway.
No. I wouldn’t let them take me to that abyssal pit of hopelessness. Wouldn’t let the look of knowing pity twist the faces of the elves I’d stupidly considered friends.
Digging my heels into the ground, I silently called to the water.
With a chime, the ice fixture jolted.
My ankles passed the doorway. In moments, they’d lock me out forever.
I clenched my hands into fists, ground my teeth, and focused every thought, every beat of my heart on the fear, the magic, the rage.
The ceiling rumbled. Hairline cracks erupted around the chandelier’s mount.
Judging by the widened stares, the sharp gasps, the rustle of silk shoes—people fleeing—I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
And just in time. Another breath, another pulse of Source, and the chandelier broke off from the ceiling. In a glittering shatter, it crashed dead center, where the queen and I had been only moments before.
Screams erupted. People ran, ducking for cover. Splintered shards of ice ricocheted off the columns, the floor, sticking to hair and velvet robes.
Hildur did not move from the middle step of the dais. Her lips parted just barely, lavender gaze electric and accusatory, piercing over her shoulder at me.
Palms raised, the guards backed off, their faces feral with fear.
Minutes passed like hours; the queen scrutinized me with each ticking second. Finally, she cleared her throat, and fully turned to face me.
“You have my attention, Angel of Water.”
Chapter 17
Well, now it wasn’t just a secret between Freyja, Gunnar, and me: everyone knew I was the Angel of Water.
Within the span of Hildur calling forth a handmaid and that handmaid, Helga, escorting me to my rooms, word had traveled throughout the entire castle. As we trotted down the halls, servants gasped and hid, courtiers parted and whispered. Even the fake knights in the metal armor displays seemed to turn their heads as we passed.
The hall Helga escorted me down wasn’t any different than the rest: ivory stone ceilings and walls illuminated by floating balls of warm, white light.
Given I’d just been upgraded from prisoner to guest of honor, I probably should’ve been a little more on guard, paying attention a tiny bit more—I probably should’ve been walking a little more briskly, like Helga, but after three days of hiking, on top of twelve hours of air travel, my legs would not go any faster.
So, when the pitter-patter of her feet disappeared around a corner, I simply didn’t have it in me to scurry after her. In fact, without her frantic, darting eyes, I slowed my pace, taking in the tapestries, the art, the statues of elves and beasts carved out of ice.
One canvas in particular drew me in: a pale blue sky with a marble pantheon parting the wispy clouds. Winged creatures and a mix of beings that could have been Nephilim or elves or another human-like species fought between the sun and the untouched landscape below—a forested bluff overlooking an unruly sea.
A water droplet splashed my cheek. I shot back, glancing at the ceiling.
There were no water stains, no signs of a leak. My gaze fell back to the picture, eyes widening. It’d been days since I’d hit a real bed, so sleep deprivation was definitely kicking in. At least… that’s what I told myself as I backed away and hurried after Helga.
“Your Grace.” She was waiting dutifully in front of a set of mirrored doors at the end of the long, vaulted passage. “The elevator.”
Really? My brows dipped together. We must’ve walked up dozens of staircases, and now she wanted to take the lift? Equally shocking was the fact that such a modern piece of equipment existed in a fortress like this.
But I didn’t question it as the doors slid open, and a pleasant bell greeted us, like metal chimes clinking in the wind. I stepped inside, leaving streaks on the pristine surface with my dirty shoes—marring the smooth sheet of glass.
Glass. As the doors closed, I realized they weren’t mirrored at all; they were see-through. Same with the walls, the floor. We were standing in no more than a glass box.
My stomach dropped, and there was no doubt in my mind that my entire body would be next, shattering the surface and tumbling down the glistening chute.
Helga came up next to me, her should brushing mine. “For your first time, it’s best not to look down.”
Right. Swinging my head up, I focused on the ceiling instead—it was also made of glass, to my dismay. Tightly compacted snow glinted behind it.
