Page 3

“What happened?” War asked. No one talked to her, and it was rare for the history books to mention her; she’d hidden away since long before Hel was born.

From the sounds of it, she’d turned Synick down ages before and now he held a grudge against her. She was the only primordial who did not have children. The others had hundreds.

“After her sister died, she lost her mind.” He shrugged. From across the room, she leveled Synick with a stare and didn’t look away until he did. He licked his lips and turned on his heel. “Remember what I said. Stay away from her.” He disappeared into the crowd.

Synick’s warning only made him keener to be as close to her as he could.

Black shadow seeped out from the study and Hel shoved off the wall. She was no longer standing across the room. In a blink, he appeared at the back of the study where the golden dagger still waited on the desk. She looked at it for a moment as if bored and then stepped out through the double doors onto the terrace. Unable to help himself, Hel followed to find her alone under the cool night sky. He admired her hourglass shape and strode to the railing where she stood overlooking the grounds.

A light touch on his lower back and his hand flashed out, but too late. Wearing a mischievous grin, Valeen, oh yes, he knew her name, stood with the golden dagger in her hand. The true Soulender, he’d hidden it in his waist. Clever.

She inspected the sharp edge, gliding her fingers along it. “It is said Soulender was created from the heart of Luna and why she bleeds. Forged by the All Mother’s hand herself.” She slid her hand along the length of it and it disappeared. “Naturally, it belongs to me.”

Hel slowly walked around her, inspecting her further. “I agree. That is why I retrieved it for you. Think of it as a gift.”

She looked him up and down, a predator assessing another. There was no fear, no wariness, or trepidation that many had in his presence. Either she didn’t know about his reputation, or she didn’t care. Both intrigued him. “What do you want?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She smiled. “Don’t lie to me. I hate liars. They belong in the underrealm with the thieves and traitors.”

“You.”

Her dark brow lifted, and the very corner of her red lip curved in the slightest way.

“To meet you,” he added.

She smiled demurely. “And was it worth the trouble?”

“I don’t know yet.” He took a step closer and whispered, “But it is said the goddess of night was formed from a fallen star and the most beautiful blooms in all the realms, only to be seen again if she allows it.” He slid his finger along the back of her arm and the hairs raised. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” Flames danced at the center of his palm.

She pulled her stare away from his first and then scanned his neck, his wrists, any exposed skin. “Rune marks on your skin. Dark hair. Eyes blue-green like oceans.” She stepped back and trailed her gaze down his form inspecting him. “Hel, I presume.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m War. It’s a pleasure, goddess.” War joined them and leaned his shoulder against the dark wood door frame. Valeen’s eyes lit with curiosity. “And it was most definitely worth his trouble to see you in the flesh.”

Chapter2

LAYALA

The normally beautiful elven forest smelled of death. Ebony clouds brought the kind of darkness that could be felt almost like a coating in the air. Tree bark bit into Layala’s back and she took in a deep breath, steadying the sword in her hand. Not Lightbringer. Her father’s sword still lay broken in pieces in the Black Mage’s tower, where two months before she’d awakened him with every intention to end the curse. He’d taken complete control of the situation, claimed she was his long-lost wife, and then disappeared with the promise to return.

Seeing a dark lump on the forest floor, Layala studied it. Not a downed tree but... she held up her hand signaling Piper, her personal bodyguard and friend, and Leif, the flirtatious red-haired Raven warrior, to stop. With slow, careful steps she moved and crouched. She could just make out hair and the outline of a body. The pit in her stomach grew as she drew closer.

Leif crept to her side, silent as birds at night. “Don’t touch it,” he murmured in his rolling accent. As if he had to tell her. The female’s mutilated body was missing an arm, bits of entrail hung out of her torso, face covered in gouges and copious amounts of blood; whoever she was would never be recognizable.

Layala couldn’t help but wonder who might be missing her. Was she a mother? She wished she could find her family and at least let them bury her, but jewelry or anything personal other than bloodied, soiled clothes was gone.Maker, please carry this poor soul safely home where she might find peace.

“I don’t think a pale one did this,” Piper said, crouching down on the other side of the dead maiden. “They’re brutal but they don’t usually tear people apart unless they intend to eat them—she’s not eaten.”

The sound of a predator sniffing the air made Layala still and turn her head. She and the others rubbed pine oil on their wrists and hair to cover their scent, blend in with the forest.

“Think I smell she-elf,” a gravelly voice hissed.

“Probably the dead one over there,” another grumbled.

Leif huffed. “Not pale ones, eh Piper?”