He rubbed his arm, the fabric bunching over his warm ivory skin. “Trust me, I’m used to it.”
We flew down an icy road away from the castle. Snow eddied out from under the tires, painting the windows. The music vibrated against the leather, almost too loud to think.
Buckle your seatbelt. Ryder’s words echoed through my mind. You know, that’s a very bad habit of yours. I almost resisted out of spite, but I scrabbled for it anyways.
“Don’t worry,” Fritz yelled above the bass. “You’ll get used to Siebel’s driving—” He cut himself short. We hit a bump. Unclear whether it was a rock or pothole or cat. Hopefully not a cat. Fritz gave me a wry smile. “Eventually.”
“If I live long enough,” I muttered back, clicking my belt into place.
As Siebel zoomed over a snowy mound, our palms slammed into the ceiling, the only thing stopping our heads from plowing into it.
Staying in my rooms would have been the more comfortable option, the safer option. Binds of anxiety tightened around my chest.
The girl in the passenger seat swung around, adjusting her navy cable-knit sweater, the stereo illuminating the layer of freckles on her nose and cheeks, her complexion pale and bright, like a fresh winter day. “You okay back there?”
With a clenched smile, I nodded, my grip tightening around the curve of the seat.
The mountain range raced by us in a blur of rock and darkness and ice. A streak of neon green flashed across the sky, the tail end of a northern light.
“I’m Eva, by the way.” She turned the music down. “What brings you to Hamarinn?”
I could lie. I probably should lie, with a bounty on my head and support for my enemy rising every day, but I was tired of that. Tired of pretending to be who I wasn’t.
So, I told her straight up. “I’m here to find Gaia, the Angel of Earth. The queen’s taking me to Jarðarbæli tomorrow.”
“Wow, I haven’t heard that name in years. It’s been forever since anyone’s talked about it.” Eva’s eyes widened. “Do you all remember what happened to the last guy who tried to go up there?”
I blinked. The wind whipped past the glass.
Fritz tilted his head. “I do.”
Gunnar cleared his throat, shifting in the corner of my eye. I wasn’t sure if that was a message for the elves or if he was just… moving around.
“Never mind…” Pretending to zip his lips and throw away the key, Fritz turned his gaze to everyone and everything but me.
I wasn’t going to just let that slide, not anymore. “Enlighten me. Please.”
“Let’s just say…” Eva tucked her fist beneath her chin. “He didn’t make it back.”
“But you will, of course,” Gunnar quickly added.
“Of course,” Eva echoed, that tight look on her face contradicting her cheery optimism.
“Okay.” I crossed my arms. “What exactly aren’t you guys telling me?”
“The only thing the Eyes recovered was a head!” Fritz blurted out, immediately slapping his palm over his mouth.
Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “What happened to the rest of him?”
“We don’t know exactly.” Eva gripped her elbows, a slight tremor rocking her shoulders, as if she were fighting off a chill. “There are… stories about Jarðarbæli. I remember the ones my dad told me when I was younger. Some are so gruesome they gave me nightmares for a week.”
Right. That didn’t sound ominous or anything.
Specks of light wavered in the distance, growing steadier as our tires sped nearer. Our floodlights swept over clusters of grass-thatched homes, steepled barns, glass greenhouses, until the concrete warehouses, cobblestone sidewalks, and vibrant streets of a city replaced the dirt roads.
“It’s all urban legend.” Gunnar waved his hand. “A friend of a cousin of a sister’s ex type of situation, who knew someone that went up there. Nothing more than stories told to little elves so they won’t go sneaking off into the highlands.”
“It’s true.” Fritz nodded frantically, his curls bouncing as we veered around another sharp curve. “That’s where the giants are, and giants eat elves, so maybe that’s why no one ever goes—or comes back.”
