Who was this guy?
“Yeah, maybe.” I slid closer to the wall, away from his wandering hands, even if it left me more exposed to his wandering eyes. The unsettling blue flickered over me, drinking me up.
“If you’re not here for Haustgildi, what brings you to Hamarinn?”
“I’m shocked you don’t know.” Even I hadn’t missed the whisperings from the servants bustling through the halls this morning—that the Angel of Water had arrived, that there had been talk of war. “Were you not in the throne room for my very public debate with the queen? Or are you too good for the goss?”
“There’s little that I think I’m too good for.” His smile turned asymmetrical, jerking up at one corner. “Maybe I just wanted to hear it from the girl herself.”
Windows were sparse in this stairwell, the darkness thickening, crowding, almost like it was a living, breathing thing. I quickened my pace, nearly missing a step.
“Are you nervous?”
“For what?” My heart raged in my chest.
“Jarðarbæli.”
“So, you do know why I’m here.”
He shrugged, eyes seeming to drill into my own.
“Should I be nervous?” I made every attempt not to sound like it, but a tremble shook my words, especially as I remembered Eldi’s. They’ll use your words against you, even the ones you do not say. Creative. Cunning.
“Most people would be.” Cupping his chin, all sharp lines and harsh angles, Flóki added, “But then again, most people wouldn’t dare enter the lair of the Angel of Earth.”
“Most people don’t need to confront the Angel of Earth.”
“You’d be surprised.”
It was almost enough to stop me in my tracks. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“I know lots of things.” He wiggled his thick black brows. “Hey, that’s an interesting scabbard, where did you get it?”
“Huh?” I glanced at my waist, completely forgetting what I’d fixed to the belt loop that morning: the runed leather holster holding my crystal blade.
Déjà vu swept over me in a flash of nervous heat. That question… it held the same faux innocence, the same prodding tone, as when Leif once asked me about my necklace—and he had used that information to unleash a demon and steal the one thing helping me channel my power.
Chances were that Flóki had no motive and was just a natural creep. But I wouldn’t let myself fall victim again, in case I was wrong. So, I shrugged, fighting off the swell of unease.
“A friend,” I lied. “Are you actually going to tell me these super important things, or just keep talking sideways?”
“You’ve got an attitude on you, haven’t you?” He chuckled. It raised the follicles on my skin like the hiss of a venomous snake.
Shafts of warm light danced off the walls. We were getting closer to the landing. Relief flooded me when we rounded a corner and entered the open-air courtyard.
Spotting the passage that led to the elevator, I darted to its portrait-lined hallway. “I think I can find my way from here.”
“Are you sure?” His boots thudded behind me. “I haven’t even gotten to show you any of the best parts. Ískastali has the best library in the realm, and don’t even get me started on the pantry.”
“I’m good, thanks!” I forced my knees up, breaking into the closest thing to a jog that my exhausted body would allow.
“C’mon, I know you’re hungry!” His words echoed behind me.
“Not right—oof!” Shoulder colliding with another’s, I rebounded, cupping the sore muscle. “Sorry!”
Looking up from my hand, recognition quickly replaced the pain.
Umber skin. Raven ringlets. Equally surprised brown eyes.
