Page 44 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen (The Heartless and the Wicked #4)

TWENTY-THREE – KOLFINNA

Kolfinna’s stomach clenched tightly at the sight of the cursed sword.

Vidar slowly stepped toward her, his hand outstretched with the sword like he expected her to take it from him.

She wanted nothing to do with the sword, and the mere thought of approaching him for it was absurd.

If it was up to her, she would have tossed the evil relic deep in the sea where it could rust and rot for eternity.

“Kolfinna.” There was a warning in Vidar’s annoyed voice.

“I …” Her mouth dried even further, and she could feel everyone’s eyes on her. She didn’t dare look at anyone else. Not that she could have—the sword commanded all of her attention.

Would it have been childish to refuse again?

“Princess, just take the sword,” Agnarr said from behind her.

He blew out air and placed his hands on his hips; even in her peripheral vision she could see how her hesitation irritated him.

She was sure everyone was feeling the same way; the only purpose of her being here was to wield the D?d Svaerd and free the queen with it.

If she couldn’t even perform that much, then she was worthless here.

Just a traitorous princess who believed in the enemy cause and who was currently holding up the entire army.

Vidar stopped a foot in front of her and before she could say or do anything, grabbed her hand and placed the sword in it. She tried wrenching away, but her fingers fastened around the hilt on their own and a jolt of darkness washed over her.

Hello again, Kolfinna. The sword’s voice crawled beneath her skin like an unwanted visitor.

“You—” She waved the sword up, ready to toss it, but then something strange happened—she could move of her own accord.

She blinked at the sword, where the black blade glittered in the sunlight like a dozen stars jammed in the midnight sky.

She had never realized how beautiful the sword could be, nor how heavy it was without the ominous pull of its magic.

Why was she able to wield it all of a sudden?

“Why am I—” she began, raising her head to meet Vidar’s red gaze.

But just as quickly as her control came, it dissolved when the sword said, I am ready to take your soul .

Her vision instantly darkened, her surroundings disappearing in a split second. The smell of sweat, blood, and dirt, the feel of sand clinging to her skin and hair, the chilly wind dancing over her skin—all of it vanished so quickly that it left her reeling.

“Vidar,” she gasped out his name.

And just like that, her vision returned, snapping back like it hadn’t left in the first place.

Except—she was somewhere else. Vidar was gone, Agnarr was gone, her guards, the courtyard.

She was in a richly decorated hallway with thick, plush pine-green and gold carpets running down the corridor.

Gold-framed paintings hung on the walls, depicting forests and animals.

Kolfinna slowly looked around herself, her eyebrows shooting up in confusion. She could hear distant chattering somewhere, but she couldn’t pinpoint from which direction. A child was giggling. Someone was coughing.

She was dressed in her training clothes; dusty sand clung to her leather boots and her hair was still in a braid, though many wispy strands had escaped.

Her attention jerked to the right when a guard appeared at the bend of the hallway; he wore dark metal armor, his blonde hair slicked back, and his fae ears glimmering with jewels.

A sword was strapped to his waist, but it looked more ornamental than useful.

A bored expression crested his face, and he passed by Kolfinna without even glancing at her.

Kolfinna trailed behind him, her gaze darting from him to the rest of the hall. “Excuse me,” she began, but the man continued walking without stopping. “Hello? Excuse me .”

He didn’t even react. Not a flicker of emotion on his face other than exhaustion and boredom.

“Hello? Where am I?”

Still no reaction.

“Hey—” Kolfinna grabbed his elbow, but her fingers slipped through his arm like he was an apparition. She gasped, loudly, jerking away as the man continued to walk. What … What was that ?

Dread spread through her stomach like an arctic tundra; it froze its way down to her toes and fingers.

Waves of nausea blasted through her and she wanted to vomit.

She slowly looked to her left, then her right, with renewed horror.

Was she trapped somewhere on a soul-level?

Hadn’t the sword mentioned something about stealing her soul?

Had it transported her here? Was she dead?

That couldn’t be right. There was no way— no way —she was dead.

She had to find a way out.

Kolfinna hurried down the hallway, past the bored guard, and then took a left.

The corridors stretched further, the décor growing increasingly gilded; the doorknobs, the doorframes, the accents on the sconces.

Glittering gem-studded chandeliers, marble-veined floors, gold tasseled curtains—she was beginning to realize she was in a fae castle.

“Kolfinna!”

She halted in her steps and twisted around at the mention of her name.

From the end of the hall, Blár jogged toward her.

Dressed in the dark leathers of the fae army, with his black mask pulled up his face, he looked just like he had in the courtyard.

When his gaze found hers, relief swarmed within the icy depths.

“Blár?” Her voice came out in a frightened whisper.

Was he even real? Was this another trick?

But then he embraced her, and she nearly melted against him.

She hooked her hands onto his back, holding onto him tightly, and breathed in the familiar scent of vanilla and spice.

The coil of apprehension eased within her and she released a shuddered breath.

She hadn’t even realized how much her panic had been rising within her, ready to burst at any second, until she was in his arms.

“Blár! You’re really here?” She pulled back to stare up and him, and he yanked down his mask in the next second. The hint of a smile teased at the corners of his lips, but it quickly overturned when he looked around himself with furrowed brows.

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, staring at the golden filigree running over the walls in repeated, intricate swirls.

She stepped away from him and slowly whirled so she could better look at the fancy hallway.

This didn’t look like the royal palace in the capital; she would know, since she had been there when she was a royal guard.

“I was … holding the sword and then everything turned black.” She rubbed her hand over her forehead, where a sudden headache began throbbing. “And then I was here.”

He nodded, his lips pursing. The usual chill that emitted from him was nowhere to be found; in fact, she didn’t feel anything.

“The same thing happened to me. One second I was watching the half-elf hand you the sword, and the next …” He waved to their new surroundings.

“Do you think it’s linked with the sword? ”

“I do.” She frowned. She had touched the sword and had been transported here, but why was Blár here too? Did the sword need something from them both? Or was this something Vidar had orchestrated? Or was Blár here because their souls were bound to one another? The latter seemed more likely.

“What should we do?” Blár asked after a moment; he stared off at one end of the hallway, his scowl darkening. “I passed by a group of fae guards, but they didn’t even notice me.”

“Same. My hand went inside a guard.”

He turned to her sharply. “Your what ?”

“Sorry, I worded that weird.” She grinned at his expression and the fact that she had blurted out such a strange sentence.

It was definitely the stress of the situation that was getting to her.

“I tried grabbing a guard to ask him where I was, because he kept ignoring me, but then my hand slipped through him. Like I was a … a ghost.”

His jaw locked and when he glanced at his surroundings again, there was a hardness about him that hadn’t been there before. The look of someone who was ready to fight. He swore softly. “You don’t think we’re both … dead , do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“To add to our … situation—” He held up his hand. “My magic isn’t working.”

Dread filled her in seconds. She reached for her own mana, pulling it to the surface, but just as Blár had said, she felt nothing. Were they inside a rune-marked realm like in the tower, or the ruins?

For a moment, they both stood there, staring at one another, an awkwardness that shouldn't have been there enveloping them. Then, the sound of someone giggling and conversing with someone else filled the hall once more. They both straightened and turned in the direction of the noise.

“We should try to explore, at least,” Kolfinna said uneasily. “Maybe we can find a way out, then.”

“It’s like we’re back in the ruins,” Blár said when they continued down the hallway. He cast her a quick glance, and his blue eyes shone against the bright firelight burning in the gilded sconces.

They had been transported into a different realm back in the Eventyrslot ruins, too, and had had to work together despite their distaste of one another.

But things were so much different now than they had been back then.

She had loathed him and been terrified of him.

Now, when she looked at him, her heart ached for another reason.

A longing was nestled deep within her. She didn’t know when it had sprung up, but she knew that she didn’t want to separate from him.

Kolfinna’s fingers brushed against Blár’s as they approached the laughter and chatter; they were drawn to it, as if nothing else in this castle mattered except the people who were conversing and chuckling.

Blár’s pinky hooked onto hers and she jerked her head in his direction.

His smile was faint, and she blushed despite herself.