“She is.”
I matched his quick steps. “Doesn’t she have, like, official princess stuff to do?”
It was much less showy down here, no murals or pictures or decorative bowls, just mud and snow, the icy worn cobblestone, and the sporadic sconce.
“This is more pressing.” The golden light from the flickering Galdur gleamed in his eyes. “It might be good to get you guys together in a less stressful environment. If?—”
“She wasn’t so stubborn we might get along?” I cut in.
“And what have you done to attempt to befriend her?”
“I’ve done everything! She just hates me.”
“Freyja doesn’t hate you. She has a hard time trusting people.” His lips eased into the kind of grin that made me stumble over the flat ground. “Kind of like someone else I know…”
A cool draft funneled through the corridor. I pulled my jacket tighter, specks of snow catching on the wool, and focused on my feet.
“Honestly,” he added, “I think she sees something in you.”
“Like what?”
“Something she likes. And it spooks her.” The shadows started to disperse, icy white moonlight pouring in from the end of the tunnel and pooling over the stone. “As a princess and a soldier, she has to work hard to find genuine friends. Even the ones that claim they’re loyal are by her side one second, and the next they’re talking shit about her.”
“I’m not that kind of—” Friend, I almost said. But I choked on the word, images of Javi flooding my mind: Crying at the Boardwalk. Lying in the rubble. Screaming from a hospital bed. I had no shortage of memories of exactly what kind of friend I had been to him.
Maybe Freyja was right to steer clear of me.
Maybe they all should.
An iron gate creaked open, the sound pulling my focus ahead.
We spilled out into a large courtyard, the deep indigo night rising behind the snowy hills. Cars lined the left wall, stables the right.
Horse-drawn carriages would probably be more fitting for this castle, yet two SUVs idled in the center, plumes of steam piping out from their exhaust.
A few curious noses leaned over the gates at the stables, the animals whinnying, their hooves scuffing the dirt. One snorted, showing off its square teeth as if it were smiling, and I caught myself grinning back. It flared its light gray nostrils, rubbing its… horn… on a wooden pole.
My stomach flipped. “Is that a unicorn?” It was more breath than voice, but I swore the creature neighed in response.
Gunnar was paces away, opening the door to the idling black Jeep. “After you,” he said, waving me into the car.
This four-by-four was so damn high, I had to stand on my tiptoes just to see the inside. I might as well have been asked to climb a mountain, and after today’s training, every muscle screamed as I hiked myself up.
“Hello,” I squeaked, as I crawled onto the leather to join the three elves already sitting in there, staring. No Freyja—she must be in the other car.
The driver nodded, his grown-out locks winging out from the sides of his hat. His hand was locked with the hand of the elf in the passenger seat, her fingers tight in his.
“Hi.” Tossing her shiny black hair, the girl’s russet eyes moved to Gunnar, who was getting in on the other side, pushing the dude in the middle seat closer to me.
The guy tugged on his chestnut curls ruefully. “I always get bitch.”
“You like it, Fritz,” the girl teased.
“Everyone, this is River?—”
Gunnar had barely gotten the words out when the car skidded into motion, the steering wheel circling against the driver’s palm. I flailed for the ceiling handle, my elbow slamming into Fritz.
“Sorry,” I said.
