Page 2
Chapter one
Sifa
The Time Is Near
“Y ou’re too beautiful to be a shield maiden.” The voice that spears at me from down the hall is loud, full of bluster.
Got him.
Even in a land filled with Valkyrie, some men can only see us as bedmates.
It makes them very predictable.
Which comes in handy in my job.
Turning, I give the male, Thrym, a smile instead of the smirk he deserves for being so easy to snare. He’s one of the tavern’s wealthier patrons, an older male who may have been handsome in his youth. The drinks that flow freely in Vanatia—and an ugly demeanor—probably stripped him of his looks years ago. Thrym’s known to bed any woman who’ll have him. He’s not nearly careful enough for a man with his wealth and appetites.
“Can I help you, Meistari?” I force my tone to be flirty, although I want nothing more than to sneer my disdain at his advance. Instead, I saunter toward him, my hips swaying in a rhythm that can mean seduction or swagger. I let the rest of my body tell him which.
“Maybe I can help you,” he responds as he closes the distance between us and reaches out to caress my shoulder with his sweaty fingers.
It takes all my strength to resist the urge to wipe off his touch. Even after all these years, my skin still crawls whenever someone touches me that way, as if my body is theirs to abuse. I don’t know if that angst and anger will ever go away.
But I don’t let him see that side of me. I can’t. I’m finally starting to get jobs from Bevin, the most important overseer in the town. Thrym’s got information Bevin wants. If I don’t get it from him, I may not get another chance. And if I can deliver, Bevin will trust me with his more sensitive work, bringing me closer to the country’s ruler, Konungr Beron.
More importantly, I’ll be a single step away from the Konungr’s wife, Dróttning Nerthus, the true source of power and knowledge in this land. Even the dragons bow to her, heeding her call before the calls of their riders. She controls the information I need.
If I can get to her, I might be able to find my way home at last.
I need to get Thrym alone. So I reel him in. “And what do I need help with?” My voice is low, sultry.
“I could help you find my room.” His face shifts to an expression he probably thinks is attractive. I hold back the groan that wants to come out. “Make sure you never have to work again.”
“What if I like what I do?”
“You’ll like my money more. I’ll make it worth your while.”
I let my gaze track down his body, pausing at the growing lump in his pants. It’s not much to brag about, and I’d wager good money it’s all he has to offer.
“Yes, I bet you would,” I whisper before looking back up at his face. Holding the smile I know will keep him hooked, I rest a slender hand on his arm. “Maybe I could use a little extra coin this week.”
He nods and reaches behind me, placing a palm on my ass as he pushes me forward. It’s all I can do to stop myself from grabbing a blade and taking that hand from him. Instead, I hold my tongue as I let him guide me down the hall, my dark curly hair bouncing on my shoulders with each step. There’ll be plenty of time for knives when we get into his room. I can’t very well leave a bloody path for just anyone to follow.
Thrym directs me to one of the tavern’s better rooms, but I’d have been surprised if he stayed anyplace else. This mark likes to flaunt his wealth. The problem is he’ll do anything—betray anyone—to replace what he throws away. He hasn’t gotten punished for that yet.
Today his luck changes.
Bolting the door behind us, my lusty suitor leans against the wood and loosens the cord around his waist, his gaze landing on my tits and never straying. As soon as his pants are loose, a clumsy paw reaches inside to squeeze what he finds there.
“Strip,” he snarls, all hints of the seductive tone he’d feigned in the hall gone.
Well, that’s not gonna happen .
Sauntering toward him, my fingers tugging on the belt hugging my hips, I drop my skirt just as I get close enough to touch him. It’s black leather, perfect for hiding the knives on my thighs while giving me easy access to them. Before he can move, I’ve got one against his neck. He isn’t staring at my tits now.
“What the fuck is this?”
From the corner of my eye, I see a hand reaching down, so I grab another blade and shove it through his palm, driving it into the wood. His eyes bulge so hard I almost laugh, and then he squeals like my cat, Thor, when Toffer pisses him off.
I put just enough pressure on the knife at his neck to draw blood.
“You will stop screaming, or I’ll slice your throat and find what I need myself.”
His howl shuts off instantly. I always draw blood early in a job. I hated it at first. Weeks of living with the stench of my own blood haunted me long after I escaped from the dragon Nest. But violence is part of daily life in Vanatia. I was a shit spy before I started using my blades because nobody took me seriously unless I caused them pain. That’s why I’m not too worried about his screams. The tavern’s nearly empty this time of day, but most people will ignore us anyway. It’s never safe to stick your nose into someone else’s business in this gods-forsaken place.
After I reach down for the knife on his leg and toss it aside, I look him over quickly. “Any more blades on you?”
He shakes his head, but I can hear his heart accelerate just a bit as he does. I dig the tip at his throat deeper as I tsk at him. “You’ll lose more blood than you can afford if you lie to me,” I snarl. “Where is it?”
His gaze drops, but he stays silent. I bite back the moan as I realize this is going to take longer than I’d like. Gah! I’m tired and I want to go home. And Thor’s probably hungry. Toffer refuses to feed him, stubborn troll that he is. Reaching around Thrym, I run my hands down his back, finding the sheath at his waist.
“Is this the only one?”
This time, Thrym’s responding grunt rings true. I’ll watch him until he’s tied up, but I don’t think he has another weapon.
“I’m going to free your hand, and you’re going to sit in the chair by the fireplace. If you try anything, I’ll take a finger. Or maybe a thumb. Understand?”
His eyes are burning into mine—it’s almost funny how angry he is—but he dips his chin once. Wrenching the knife free, I step back and wave him forward. But he’s not ready to comply yet. He lunges for me, his shoulder aiming for my gut.
Idiot .
Stepping backwards, I bring the knife’s hilt down on the back of his head, dropping him like a sack of coal. As he groans, I tsk again and straddle his back, a blade again at his throat. “That won’t do,” I whisper in his ear as I stretch my other knife forward and remove his right pinkie.
While he’s shrieking, I pull a strip of fabric from my belt and gag him. Can’t let him scream too long. That might draw unwanted attention if someone’s trying to sleep in a nearby room. And I can already tell this guy’s gonna be stubborn. We’ll be here a while if he forces me to rummage through his brain myself.
“You’ll soon learn that I always keep my promises,” I mutter as I bind his wrists. Standing, I yank him to his knees and then his feet. He’s a bit more complacent now, with so much of his blood decorating the floor. They always are after I take the first finger. I don’t untie him when I plant him in the chair, just strapping his arms to the back. The rope might be a little tighter than necessary, but he’s pissed me off.
“I’d hoped to make this easy on you,” I explain as I pull up another chair and drop into it in front of him, “but that’s up to you. You took information from the Kastali.” His eyes widen at that declaration. He probably thinks I work for the Dróttning. That could come in handy so I let him believe whatever he wants. “I’m going to take off the gag and you’ll tell me where it is.”
“Fuck you.”
His first words don’t help his cause, so I stand to saunter behind him. Shoving the gag back into his mouth to stifle his next shriek, I reach for his left hand and pull apart the fingers he’s trying to clench together. He’s fighting me with everything he has, but he won’t win this battle. They never do. When I’ve freed his left pinkie, I place my lips close to his ear and tsk at him while I slice it off. Then I head back to my seat and watch him writhe.
“Maybe you don’t realize what’s about to happen.” Squaring my shoulders, I shift into the facade that helped me convince Bevin I’m one of the best spies in the country. Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: full lips, dark as the copper decorating the room, set in a thin line; warm, umber skin; bright brown eyes, narrowed for emphasis; high cheekbones and a well-defined jaw, clenched tight. My don’t-fuck-with-me face.
“I’m going to get what I need from you,” I purr. “If you give it to me willingly, I’ll let you live. You’ll have lost a couple of fingers in this reminder about what happens to people who take something that belongs to the Dróttning, but you’ll leave with your life.”
I’ve got his attention now. He’s sputtering, but I’m not yet ready to hear whatever he wants to say.
“If you don’t cooperate, I’ll spend an hour or so trying to convince you. That’ll involve more fingers … and other parts,” I add with a glance down at his paltry penis, “before I give up and take what I need. If you make me do that, I’ll kill you for my trouble.”
I don’t tell him the real reason I’d kill him. Other than the Dróttning herself, only elves like me and a few of the Dróttning’s most trusted soldiers—who she’s somehow managed to imbue with her own powerful magic—can walk through people’s thoughts. It gives me talents most don’t possess. I can find information and convince Bevin’s marks to do things they’d rather not.
But I can’t rely on that skill too much and risk revealing myself. Nobody can know I’m an elf. The Dróttning had every elf in Vanatia imprisoned when she took power centuries ago. Other than dragons, she and her hand-picked clique of soldiers are the only beings in this land allowed to possess and wield magic. The Dróttning controls all of them, dragons and soldiers alike. I’m free only because I grew up in a different world and somehow got sucked into this one. If anyone discovers what I am, I’ll end up in one of the elven prison camps.
Luckily, elves can hide amongst humans. I’m sure others walk this world, but I’ve never gotten close enough to any to gain the trust they’d need to share that secret with me. As long as I maintain control over my body—never let my pointed ears appear—and hide the mind magic all elves possess, only those with their own magic could recognize me. And that’s only if my shields can’t keep them out.
Thrym has no magic. And Bevin wants what he has, so I’m going to get it. One way or another.
“Do we understand each other?” I ask after giving Thrym a moment to consider how the next hour might go.
He nods, his eyes wide and much duller than they were a few minutes ago. Maybe this’ll be easier than I thought.
I point my knife toward his mouth. “You won’t scream again if I take this off, will you?”
He shakes his head, quick, jerky movements.
Releasing his gag, I poise my knife over his groin. A reminder of what’s at stake.
“Where is it?”
“Aksell has it,” he spits out, eager to comply now. “He knew I had business in the Kastali, paid me well to get a satchel one of the maids held and bring it to him.”
“When did you give it to him?”
“Just this morning. It should still be in his house.”
“Anything else I need to know?”
“Nothing. I swear.”
I watch and listen for a moment, testing his words. They ring true, no signs of deception appearing in his eyes or heart rate. “Thanks for your help.” I give him the smirk I’ve been holding back since the hallway as I flick my knife up and smack its hilt against his temple. His head whips to the side, eyes rolling back in his skull, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
I’ve been doing Bevin’s dirty work for months, walking a thin line the entire time. I risk being exposed if I get too close to powerful people like the Dróttning. But I need information they alone possess if I’m ever going to find my way home. I’ve seen enough hints to convince me that the Dróttning’s libraries hold answers I’ve been seeking for ten years. And I’d risk just about anything to go home again. So I’m relying on my shields, which can hide me from all but the most powerful, and working my way toward the Dróttning’s inner circle. Little by little.
Now I have to get the satchel from Aksell, but reaching him should be easy. He’s even more reckless than this idiot. I’ll go there in the morning, well before the sun rises. He may need a bit more convincing—he’ll know the Dróttning didn’t send me—but he deserves whatever fate may bring him. He’s not a good male.
Although a hungry cat no doubt awaits me, I don’t race home. After stopping by the tavern’s kitchen to grab the bag they have waiting for me, I start walking. My route takes me along the water, and I find a peace here that I sometimes need. Revalle—Vanatia’s biggest town, its stronghold in the south—spreads out around me.
Because the Konungr and Dróttning have a home here, some parts are opulent and picturesque: paved roads lined with manicured shrubs and bushes; large shops and homes painted in bright reds and oranges and yellows; fruit trees that bear succulent, delicious harvests, yet somehow never seem to litter the ground below. Grass and flowers and benches fill parks the wealthy stroll at night.
Those aren’t the places that bring me peace.
My path home takes me through the poorer parts of Revalle. I wander along a shorefront teeming with storehouses and fishing boats. And then the road leads inland, through the homes and shops of the less favored members of this harsh place. They have little and must scramble for all of it, but they find joy in their lives. Their rulers don’t always make it easy. Still, in house after house, I hear the happy chattering of children, unrestrained laughter, and animated conversations.
Here I find the peace I need.
The strength to keep searching for my path home.
Already, the day’s stress is whispering out of my bones, letting go of me for another twelve hours.
I feel the tension fully leave my shoulders when I catch sight of Halla’s long silver hair as she sits on the stairs waiting for me. She’s small for a ten-year-old and wears a dress that’s so threadbare, it’s a wonder it hasn’t fallen apart yet. This one offers no protection from the elements—necessary in the evenings, even in this warm climate—but Halla doesn’t have many to choose from. Despite their limited means, Halla’s always clean, her hair combed and tied back with a faded ribbon. Her dark eyes are bright and reflect a wisdom beyond her age.
I found Halla two years ago when she tried to take a bag I’d set down next to me for a moment. Only eight years old at the time, I soon learned why she had to steal to survive. And then I met her mother, Sagga, and learned much more about Halla. Now, I bring food and she occasionally relays words from Sagga, who claims to possess seier, the ability to predict the future. She’s only ever foreseen simple and unsurprising events for me—a new person I might meet, a difficult day at work—but Halla says Sagga feels better providing something in return. We all like this arrangement more than Halla’s reluctant thievery.
I’m never sure if she’ll make it to meet me. Sometimes Sagga asks her to stay home and she does, even though they both desperately need the food I bring them.
“Hello, Halla,” I say as I sit down next to her.
“Hi, Ms. Sifa!” Her exuberant response always draws a smile. It took a while to break through the distrust she’d developed toward all adults except her mother. I’m grateful I did.
“They served roasted boar at the tavern today,” I share as I hand her the bag with tonight’s dinner and enough extra to get them through tomorrow.
Her eyes light up in response. She loves boar. “Mama will be happy,” she responds. But then her grin drops away and she casts her gaze down. She doesn’t like the words she’s been asked to share with me today, I can tell.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Tell me what your mother said.”
She nods slowly, not yet looking up. When she does, she stares at me with the most intense focus I’ve ever seen, her sapphire eyes bright and wide. “The time is near,” she says in a voice I’ve never heard her use. “Your enemy approaches, but he is not your enemy. Take a risk when you know you shouldn’t, and we all will prevail.”
“That’s more cryptic than normal.” I can’t hold back an uncertain laugh at her words. I have no idea what to make of them.
“Mama said you’ll know when the time comes. And if you listen to her words, you’ll change everything. For everyone.” She grimaces and lifts her shoulders in a helpless shrug. She seems as confused as me.
“Well then, it’s great advice. Thank you.” I watch as she stands and takes a step down, holding the full bag with both hands.
“Mama asked me to come home soon tonight,” she explains as she turns to look at me again. “But there’s one more thing I need to tell you.” Halla pauses, looking away before her gaze finally returns to mine. “I understand this one, and it makes me sad.” She looks down for the briefest moment as a pair of tears tries to break free.
I reach out to cup her cheek. “It’ll be okay, whatever it is.”
She bobs her head again before taking a big breath. “Mama said you’ll be going away soon and you’ll be gone for a long time. She wants you to know we’ll be fine. We’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”
“Well, I’m sure that one’s wrong,” I respond with another laugh. “I don’t know where I would go, and I would miss you too much if I did.” I grin, making sure it reaches my eyes. She needs to know I’m here to stay for the foreseeable future. I’ve been searching long enough to know I won’t find my way back home anytime soon.
“I’ll miss you too. But Mama said you need to go when the time comes. And you shouldn’t worry about us.”
“Tell your mama thank you,” I tell her. “I’ll try.”
Halla returns my smile and reaches out for a quick hug before turning away. I watch until she rounds a corner, wondering what would happen to them if I disappeared. I need to make arrangements for someone else to bring food to them and Toffer if I ever have to leave. Mikkael and Johan will help. They’ve been working for Bevin for a long time, but they’re good males. Good friends.
Shaking my head, I start to walk home. I’m going to meet an enemy who isn’t an enemy? My actions will change everything? And I’m leaving for a journey soon? None of Sagga’s words make much sense, although the last one was more specific than normal. It makes me nervous, even if I don’t want to admit it.
I’m lost in those thoughts when I sense something unnerving—a power unlike any I’ve encountered before in Vanatia, that I’m drawn to in a way I could never have anticipated. My heart beats more erratically, my hands clenching, as the strange magic ripples around me, poking at my shields. I stiffen my spine and push up my chin. Whatever or whoever this is, I won’t let them see the effect they have on me.
It’s not an elf, I can tell right away, although I grasp hints of magic similar to mine emanating from this being. Elven mind magic feels different than the raw power it emits. Maybe it’s one of the Dróttning’s trusted few, but that doesn’t seem right either. I’ve felt their abilities once or twice. It’s an echo of the Dróttning’s power, and has never been this primitive or strong. I’ve also never felt connected to that magic the way I do this. My power is humming inside me, demanding release, as if it wants to dance with this stranger’s essence.
Pausing, my breath hitching in my throat, I stop walking and spin to search for its source.
And I find the most stunning, terrifying man I’ve ever seen.
A sharp jaw and cheekbones, along with bright green eyes, are framed by a tousle of thick hair, dark against his lightly tanned skin. His full lips are set in a thin line, as if he’s angry to have crossed my path. He’s tall—probably a full head bigger than me—with a firm, lithe body. If I look, I’m sure I’ll find only muscle beneath his tunic and leggings.
I’m drawn to and also completely repelled by this unexpected, magnificent male.
And I can’t ever let myself get near him.
I have no idea how I know it, but every part of me screams that he is the most dangerous thing in this world to me. Still, it takes every ounce of will I possess to stand there and watch him turn and stride away. Because as positive as I am that I have to get away from him, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
These warring emotions he’s inexplicably stirred in me make even less sense than Sagga’s nonsensical warnings.
I take my time walking home after that, not ready to face a life that suddenly holds many more questions than answers.