I’d taken the elevator to the highest floor, an experience in itself. A curling gazebo carved out of ice shielded me from the wind as I stepped out of the car and onto a plateau that overlooked a slate-gray hollow.
Hundreds of people gathered in this open space between the mountain’s peaks. From here, they dashed around like little ants, running in circles over the barren terrain.
A crumbling set of stairs carved into the rock face snaked to the area below. Grasping the thick rope railing, I descended the nearly vertical path, my heart thrashing against my ribs at the dizzying altitude. At least it was free of snow—the steps had been swept clean of stray pebbles and ice, anything that might have someone tripping and breaking their neck. The height and the angle could do that on their own.
When I finally reached the bottom in one piece, I put my hand to my brow, shielding my vision from the icy glare of the surrounding snowcapped ridges.
My breath clouded in front of me, lungs working harder in the thin air. Elves darted across the flat land, grouping themselves into formations, clinking swords, lifting barbells, climbing the sides of the mountain. Some gathered around a raised platform—the sparring ring.
Craning and squinting for a good look, I could only make out a gloved hand, a flash of pinkish blonde over the audience clustered along the bright ropes. Cheers erupted.
After waiting for a line of soldiers to jog past, I walked over. Anxiety stabbed me in the gut, sharper than any sword or spear I saw hanging on the many weapons racks.
This wasn’t just a standard outdoor training facility. This was where warriors were made.
The mat-covered area I’d initially assumed to be a normal gym sent a shiver down my spine: half the machinery didn’t even remotely resemble workout equipment—it looked more like torture devices.
Beyond those, the base of the slopes were lined with pits: pits with metal spikes, pits with bubbling tar, pits with—oh God—snakes.
Nope. I swung my head in the direction of the sparring ring, picking up my pace. I would not be getting anywhere near those pits.
An elf darted into my path, flushed from their workout, a damp sweatband around their forehead. Three more raced after them, heading for those dreaded holes in the earth. Laughing, smiling, as if they were about to do the unthinkable: enjoy them.
Coming up here was definitely the wrong decision. I knew I should have just headed back to the comfort of my rooms. I had overexerted myself with the frozen waterfall. I should take a nap. There was plenty to talk to Eldi about, or I could join Olivia. I was sure I could disappear back into the elevator, make myself invisible before…
“River!”
Or not.
I swiveled in the direction of my name to see a familiar figure jogging towards me.
“Gunnar,” I said, already feeling as if I’d used up all of my oxygen.
He stopped a few feet away, his hair pulled into a low pony, biceps poking out of his tight black shirt. A trickle of sweat lined his brow. “What are you doing up here?”
“Great question,” I panted, and it was totally due to the air, not the way the stretchy fabric sculpted his chest. “I’m… exploring?”
“I thought you’d be spent after that performance for the queen.” Wiping his forehead on his sleeve, his skin glistening from his workout, he added, “That was pretty badass, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Heat flashed down the back of my neck, up my cheeks.
He nodded towards my clothes. “You changed.”
I glanced down at my black leggings and my matching zip-up. “Yeah,” I said, tucking the short layers of hair that’d come undone from my braid behind my ear. “I did.”
“Hey, angel!” a girl called from the ring. Freyja. She curled her fingers. Beckoning—taunting. “You’re up.”
“O-oh, no.” The blood drained from my face.
“Oh yes.” She leaned on the elastic barrier. “G, bring her up here.”
Gunnar hesitated, wide eyes darting between us.
She tilted her head. “That’s a command.”
“Sorry, River.” Gritting his teeth, he stalked back to the enclosure, legs strong and slow. No threatening words, no touch, no force. They weren’t needed, anyway. I was a rabbit in the den of wolves.
Heels skidding in the dirt, my feet grew heavier, more leaden with each tentative step.
