Page 34 of Vow of the Undead (The Bloodrune Saga #1)

I ran to the warmth. If nothing else, following the heat distanced me from King Drakkar. His words left me raw and coated in goosebumps.

I had until first light to decide if I wanted to give up everything I was, my connection to the Gods, my identity as a seer, hope for my mother and Ragna and bind myself to him—or die.

Heaving each breath left my throat tender. I couldn’t collapse, so I stopped running and allowed my pulse to slow. Loki wanted me to leave this place, but was that the trial? I hadn’t failed my mother if I could pass his and then Odin’s in time.

The Gods would lead me.

I had to believe it because I was no closer to the lost history than when I’d stepped inside Mara’s Keep for the first time.

“I’ll lead you.”

Loki’s voice penetrated my thoughts again. King Drakkar was right, I’d invited the Gods into my mind and I’d never regret it. Focusing on Freya had helped keep the darker side of me locked away, but Loki …

“Let it out.” His voice curled with satisfaction.

No! I’m not evil.

That was a lie.

He said nothing to confirm or deny this.

Loki wouldn’t care as long as I followed whatever cunning plan he had designed, and for now, I trusted him enough to follow this plan.

How could I not? The power to put the king into a trance—a monster at my beck and call—must have come from Loki.

He was the only one wild and chaotic enough to imbue me with such magic.

I could control a vampire, and for a moment, I wanted to relish in this, because what came next was Odin’s trial. I had no doubt it would be the most challenging, more so even than Loki’s chaos.

Loki was always a necessary evil in the history of the Gods, and perhaps that was why he was part of these trials. Perhaps they were designed specifically for me and the wickedness the Gods knew I carried within me.

Now it’d come to this, my wild escape to pass Loki’s trial.

The shadows may find me again, but they’d find an honest woman, not a woman sitting beside a disturbed and cruel king. I just had to find a way out. Or find Stasia.

Even a bird with clipped wings can escape its cage. I hadn’t forgotten her unusual words, as if she, too, considered escape.

The kitchens were my best bet, so I forged on, following the warmth. Surely, the hearths here would be the hottest part of the castle, not unlike the communal hearth back in Skaldir.

Shoving through a heavy door, I spotted her across the room and relief flooded me. Despite this, my face must have been the dazed agape expression of the vessels because she came to me at once.

“My queen,” she breathed, green eyes as wide as a child’s.

I shook my head. “Don’t call me that.”

Her brow arched. “You’re terrified.”

“It’s that obvious? ”

With a nod, she pursed her lips, pushing her pink cherub cheeks up. Her honey voice dropped to a whisper. “What is it?”

I stepped closer and kept my voice as low as possible. “You’re planning to escape, aren’t you?” Her strawberry lips parted. Sudden fear darkened her bright eyes. “Nobody told me,” I said quickly. “I only know, or am guessing because I’m…”

“Observant,” she said, relief lacing her voice. “I know, and honestly, it’s about damn time, my queen.” I narrowed my eyes and she cleared her throat. “Miss…Silver?”

“Just call me Silver.” I winced.

She sucked in a breath and cupped my elbow. Guiding me out into the hall, I suddenly missed the warmth of the hearths.

“As I was saying.” She clucked her tongue as she pulled me around a corner and we continued down a hall I actually recognized with the double doors to the throne room. “It’s about time you want to leave. I mean, your betrothed is an undead monster.”

My heart skipped. She was right, but in so many little ways King Drakkar didn’t match that description. He’d cared for my cold hands, defended me for sleeping late when I needed rest, his mere words had made me wet with wanting.

But it was all a facade—and I would know.

A dull ache hooked into my heart and seemed to drag it to the depths. Of course a lying king would choose the woman whose entire life was a lie. We were the same.

Stasia continued talking quietly as she led me down a wide hallway.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I left the kitchens when you came here?

” I furrowed my brow and followed in her wake.

She marched straight for two massive doors and shoved one open.

“You have always been my ticket out. Since the moment I saw your expression when the king proposed to you, I knew you didn’t want to stay here. ”

Air blasted into the hall, needling my face with icy pinpricks.

Stasia slipped outside and I stepped to the threshold.

Stone steps lay before me, and beyond that, Mara.

I’d been holed up in the castle so long, I forgot how high this fortress stood over the village.

Flickers of distant candlelight dotted the landscape below, mirroring the glittering stars across the open sky.

Stasia grabbed my wrist and pulled me through. The door groaned as it fell shut behind me.

“Escape is simply walking out the front door?” I said, sliding my eyes to my handmaiden.

She tilted her head side-to-side. “ You can simply walk out. You’re nearly the queen, and as your handmaiden, I go where you go, even if it's just for a breath of fresh air. This is the tricky part. I can’t leave the property, and I suspect King Drakkar wouldn’t like you going far either.

But from the windows, I’ve mapped a path that will keep us in the shadows. ”

My mouth popped open. I stared at her wordlessly for a moment, awe and appreciation stealing my breath away. And I’d known to seek her out, so a small slice of this admiration was reserved for myself, too.

It was as if Loki had sent Stasia to guide me through my escape from Mara’s Keep. This trial was proving far easier than Freya’s, which was definitely not what I expected from the God of chaos.

“Thank you. I–I don’t know what else to say. This is perfect.”

“Follow me,” she said, trailing the shadow cast by the castle. The moon hung bright and shimmering behind the spires.

As easy as it’d been to walk out the front doors, escaping tonight, with heavy and tired limbs, would prove difficult. When and how would I rest once I was out of Mara’s Keep? In there, I was surrounded by monsters, but out here, life was uncertain .

I’d take the uncertainty, even if my body argued with it. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until the thrilling energy of escape bolted through my veins. This temporary boost would have to pull me through until we were able to stop and breathe.

Like the long halls, we followed the length of the structure for what felt like an hour before cutting to the right and slipping into a narrow space between overgrown plants.

Spiked bushes clawed at my neck and arms as we ducked into the darkness provided by the bushes.

Dim moonlight filtered through the thick branches, just enough for me to make out the shape of the delicate flowers. Roses.

Before my mother was sent away, she taught me about all plants.

Plants to heal, plants to feed us, plants to protect us.

She’d claimed blood red roses, thorned and often rare, were a gift from Freya, planted by Valkyries, to shield us from the monsters who slipped into our world from fractures across the Nine Realms.

Sliding along the narrow space between the stone castle and the crowded bushes, I allowed Stasia to guide me.

So far, my shadow was nowhere to be seen and King Drakkar hadn’t found us.

Even if I didn’t know Stasia well, I trusted she was capable.

I’d seen her determination the moment she first came into my chambers.

Truly, she was my only option and she knew Mara’s Keep and this castle far better than I.

As I squeezed through the wild bushes, a thorny branch caught the soft flesh of my cheek. I swallowed a yelp and twisted away from it as the spike dragged across my face where it’d leave a mark to match my other scar. Frustrated, I shoved through the suffocating bushes with a curse at my lips.

We broke free at the back of the castle where Stasia grabbed my hand and pulled me beyond a grassy hill spotted with scattered headstones. Royals had been buried here for centuries, the hundreds of graves kept record of their high status even in death.

Descending the hill proved harder than I expected in the heavy dress, but we made it to the bottom and ducked into a line of trees. Following a ragged path through the forest, I ached for Skaldir.

For a simpler time with the other gatherers.

For life before the winters grew dangerous.

For distant memories of foraging for berries with my mother. I trailed her into the forest with the other women and she taught me how to identify which plants were palatable and which were poisonous.

My heart ached. Would I ever see her again? She’d know how to translate Loki’s clever way of speaking.

I’d escaped Mara’s Keep as he said, so where was my vision of Fenrir? I shouldn’t have trusted him, but I’d had no other options. And, of course, Loki was a trickster, he never gave straight answers. One could never see the end of his cunning plans.

What did his trial entail beyond escape?

My mother would know. She’d lift my hand as we prayed to Odin with the sacrifice of burning our most prosperous crop to strike down the men who harm us.

Though we never spoke of it again, the shadow that stood outside her door at night was torn to pieces by a direwolf.

His liver, his head, and his entrails were left scattered across her doorstep, as if the shadow’s body was a gift, an answer from Odin and Freya.

A reminder that they existed and heeded our calls even if it was outlawed to utter their names beyond the frame of stories.

I peered through the trees to catch sight of the gray stone spires reaching into the sky. I’d cast off the colorless cage, but Loki did not grant me victory yet.