Shadow Empress (Night Elves Trilogy Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  Shadow magic swirled about his skin, whispering over my cold body with tingles that raised goosebumps. Then, he turned to open the doors to the city of Asgard.

  “Where are you going?” I asked. But Galin had already disappeared back into the ruined city, the door creaking shut behind him.

  Alone, I turned back to the interior. In the darkness, it just looked like blank marble, featureless walls. No sign of any windows, just a massive atrium with a ceiling so high it was obscured by darkness. The air was completely still. After the deafening howling of the wolves, it was strange to be in a place so quiet.

  Then the golden doors creaked open, and Galin appeared, holding a chunk of burning lumber—a crude torch.

  “Can you walk?” he whispered.

  “I’m not sure.” I tried to take a few steps, but immediately my legs gave out.

  Galin’s arm swept out, slipping around my waist to stop me from falling.

  I leaned into him. “If you help hold me up I think I can walk.” With Galin’s arm tight around my waist, I was able to support my remaining weight. Slowly, we staggered forward.

  “The magic wrecked me,” I said quietly.

  Supporting me with one arm, holding the torch with the other, Galin helped me cross the hall. He paused at the stairs, looking at me with a questioning expression.

  “I can do it,” I assured him.

  One step at a time, we began to climb. Slowly, we ascended to the second level, then the third. Light from his torch danced over the hall, shadows wavering over marble.

  By the fourth-floor landing, I heard a noise that nearly made me stumble: the unmistakable whining of a wolf.

  “I thought I killed them,” I said as Galin dragged me into the shadows, away from the stairwell. “Guess I need more fire next time.”

  I pressed in close to him, waiting to see if the wolf would enter the castle. But we only heard whining, scratching, thumping. Apparently they couldn’t open doors.

  Galin held up a finger, then disappeared into the darkness of one of the halls.

  Freaking Hel. His lack of speech was not the best situation, because I had no idea what was going on.

  Again, I was left to wait in the darkness, slumped against a wall. The cold from the rain had gone right down to my marrow, which made my muscles more rigid. I tried to walk again, but my legs were still too weak. I wanted to know how to do magic without destroying my strength, without making myself useless.

  I slid down the wall to rest. My teeth chattered, fingers frozen. When I exhaled, my breath misted around me. As I was massaging my thighs, I saw his silhouette moving through the shadows.

  Galin—for once—was smiling broadly.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Instead of answering, he crouched down and helped me up, arm protectively around my waist. With his help, I hobbled along the balcony away from the stairwell. From here, I could see the marble floor four stories below us, the fire pit, and the gleam of the golden doors.

  Galin turned and pushed open a door. I gasped at the beauty of the room beyond. Now this looked like how I’d imagined Valhalla.

  A set of windows illuminated the interior in cool moonlight. This place was not only clean, but it looked comfortable. Oak walls engraved with swirls, a soft rug on the floor, a large four-poster bed.

  But most of all, my eyes were drawn to the fireplace—an enormous stone hearth inset into oak walls. A fire burned within it. I nearly cried as I felt its heat wash over me.

  As we approached, I took in the piles of pillows on the floor—soft and golden. I was ready to collapse into them, but Galin held me up.

  “I want to sleep there,” I whispered.

  But he shook his head quickly, a clear No.

  Then he began to pull my wet leather jacket off me, and it fell to the floor with a wet thunk.

  My shirt had soaked through too.

  What had Galin said to me? He felt nothing for me. Since I’d severed the mating bond, he didn’t feel a thing at all.

  He was supposed to be dead inside, right?

  Something naughty stirred in me, and I wanted to see whether or not that was true. And what better time than when icy rainwater soaked me down to my bones?

  With a smile, I reached down and pulled off my shirt, then threw it on the floor. I followed his gaze down to my red lacy bra, enjoying the widening of his eyes. The effect of the ice-cold rain on my nipples was clearly apparent to him. He’d gone still as the ancient statues outside. For just a moment, his hand reached out for my waist. Then his fist tightened, and he pulled his hand away.

  This was delightful.

  I cocked my head. “I’ll need help out of my pants. They’re soaked. You were very clear that you don’t feel any desire, so it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  When he met my gaze, the look was searing, piercing me down to my very soul. I guessed he did feel something—yet he didn’t seem to want to admit it.

  I stepped closer, making my eyes wide and innocent. “You don’t want me to be cold, do you? Like you said. You don’t feel desire, so what’s the issue?”

  I unbuttoned the top of my pants, then brought his hands to my waist. With the faintest of smiles, he pulled the pants off me—a little too fast, like he was annoyed I was calling his bluff.

  He helped me step out of them, then started to rise again, his eyes tracing up my bare thighs, lingering on my little red panties—bright against my pale skin.

  I pouted at him. “I’ll need help getting to the pillow, my desires-less friend. Good thing you won’t be distracted by lust or anything.” Was I laying it on too thick? I had to take my fun where I could get it these days.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw, and all the muscles in his chest had gone completely rigid while he looked at my half-naked body.

  Then he stepped forward, scooped me up, and lay me down across the pillows, in the warmth of the fire.

  I almost reached for him, but I forced myself to stop. If he wanted me, he was going to have to admit it.

  I watched as he crossed to the bed and pulled off a heavy blanket for me. He lay it over me, and I pulled it up around my chin.

  I felt warm, inside and out, the heat of the fire warming my cheek. My muscles were so tired I was virtually paralyzed, but for the first time in ages, I felt entirely at peace.

  I glanced at Galin, now spreading my clothes out to dry. He looked nearly as exhausted as myself.

  I realized now why he’d been smiling so excitedly when he came back to me in the hallway. Just as I did, when he first entered the room, he must have immediately seen the fireplace. He’d made a fire, then come back for me.

  Maybe I felt a little bit bad for teasing him.

  Galin settled in an armchair, still shirtless, black vapor rising from his tattoos, his eyes focused on the fire. It was obvious he was a powerful sorcerer, but I knew something no one else in the nine worlds knew.

  Deep down, he was kind of sweet.

  Galin saw me looking at him, and met my gaze for so long I wondered if I should look away again. Then, he spoke in a rough whisper. “In the morning, we’ll search for the well. Nice throw with Skalei.”

  “I’ve been practicing,” I murmured.

  I leaned back again against the pillow, my eyelids growing heavy. I closed my eyes, listening to the logs crackling in the fire, the wind rattling the windows, and something more.

  A distant howling. Fenrir’s children were out there somewhere, licking their wounds.

  Chapter 22

  Ali

  I don’t know how long I slept—only that when I woke, Galin was gone. But why did I wake up? Outside it was nearly pitch black; the moon must have gone behind a cloud. The fire that had lit the room earlier was now nearly out. Only a faint glow of embers shone in the fireplace.

  Where is Galin? And what just woke me?

  Then I heard it: a distant shout. Too high pitched to be a wolf’s or a man’s.

  A woman was in here somewhere.


  As I tried to work out what was going on, there was another shout.

  “Oi, Gondul!”

  A pause, followed by feminine laughter. Not a single voice, but at least four or five women.

  “Gawn-dull!”

  “Shut up Hildr,” snapped a second voice.

  “Gondul why are you such a nasty troll?”

  “Hildr, I’m not in the mood.”

  “Gods be damned, you nearly knocked me off my horse.”

  What on earth was going on? Who were these women nattering on in the night? And where the Hel was Galin?

  I pushed myself up onto my elbows, relieved to discover that sleep had washed away much of the paralyzing exhaustion. Climbing slowly to my feet, I hunched-walked to the door and pressed an ear against it.

  Through the oak, I could hear the rest of the women talking and laughing, though I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I felt like a kid in her bedroom, listening to her parents hosting a dinner party. I supposed we had barged in here, and clearly people lived in this place. These must be the ones littering the floor with gnawed bones.

  Gondul’s voice cracked through the wood like a gunshot. “You need to shoulder your spear properly.”

  “You know I pulled a muscle last week.”

  “Oh don’t make stuff up, you know you can’t get injured. And I saw you drinking from your horn. That’s probably why you can’t get your spear up. Flaccid weapon. Absolutely useless.”

  The other woman laughed uproariously at Gondul’s joke, and I just barely heard Hildr’s reply. “The mead gives me strength.”

  Doors slammed. Dogs barked. Someone shouted, “Shut the Hel up, you stupid mutts.” Followed by loud muttering, “Gods, the damn dogs won’t stop yapping. What’s gotten into them?”

  “Hildr, shut the darn door, you know Fenrir’s pups don’t listen,” yelled Gondul.

  “Who’s got the mead?” someone cried out.

  “Here,” replied another voice.

  A long pause followed, then, “Gods, it warms my tits.”

  The women crowed with laughter. “Were your tits cold?” The laughter increased in volume, then someone shouted, “Hildr’s tits are pure ice.”

  I was thinking about trying to slip out of the room and take a peek over the railing when I heard Gondul shout, “Pipe down yah old hags, I’m trying to enjoy my stew.”

  Someone jeered. “Stew! Bet you’d like some sausage in that stew of yours. Been a while, hasn’t it?”

  “Shut up, Hildr,” said Gondul. “I don’t need reminding.”

  But at this point Hildr was not stopping. “Big meaty sausage! Something you can really get your mouth around,” she shouted, her voice slurring. The rest of the women howled with glee.

  At that moment, the door pushed open, and Galin slipped into the room.

  “Galin,” I whispered. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Valkyries.”

  “Woah … That’s what valkyries sound like?”

  “Yup,” Galin whispered. “I saw them when I was exploring. They flew in on their winged horses a little while ago.”

  “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “Just sit tight, I’ll go talk to them. They seem … jolly.”

  I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but before I could reply, Galin was gone. Below, the valkyries suddenly went silent.

  “Who are you?” barked one of them.

  “Galin—”

  “Look at that beauty! The abs on him …”

  Galin tried to say something, but another valkyrie cut him off. “I get him first. You see those sharp muscles near his groin? Those are sex lines.”

  There was more shouting.

  Then Galin spoke, his voice rasping. “Valkyries, I am Galin, King of Hel, consort to the goddess Hela—”

  “Gods damn. Hela’s not going to let us fuck him, is she? But his mouth is so pretty. I want his mouth on me.”

  “What if it’s just for a few minutes?” someone cried.

  “Don’t listen to Hildr. She’ll want it again and again. Up against the wall, tied up. Can you just take your trousers off, though? It has been ages. I want to see it. Now.”

  The valkyries lost it at this point, literally screaming and shrieking. I got the impression they had already consumed quite a lot of mead.

  “Valkyries!” said Galin again, trying to get things under control. “I am here on a quest—” But his broken voice just wasn’t up to the task of reining in the intoxicated valkyries.

  “I just want your pretty mouth on me, though!”

  “Face it, Hildr, he’s not gonna lick your muff, is he?”

  At this point I decided that weak legs or not, I needed to come to Galin’s rescue. I pushed the door open and staggered to the edge of the balcony.

  Looking down, I saw Galin standing in the center of the castle atrium, surrounded. Warm firelight danced over six statuesque women dressed in gleaming silver armor over white dresses. They looked beautiful and athletic—and were grinning like drunken maniacs. Most of them held drinking horns.

  “Hey,” I shouted. “Stop asking him to take his pants off. It’s not on.”

  They spun round to look at me, eyes furious, piercing.

  Galin might be welcome here, but I was not.

  “Is that Hela?” someone slurred.

  “No, you idiot,” said the largest valkyrie, in Gondul’s voice. “Hela died, remember? That’s just a little Night Elf—”

  Galin managed to cut in then, “This is my companion, Astrid Volundar, Empress of the Vanir—”

  “That little wench is an empress? I could break her in two with my bare hands.”

  “Galin speaks the truth,” I said as firmly as I could. “I am Empress of the Vanir, leader of—”

  “Oh fuck off, she’s hardly more than a speck of a thing. This man needs a real woman,” shouted one of the valkyries. “Hildr, take off your dress.”

  “He doesn’t feel desire!” I called out. “It’s a whole thing.”

  “When he gets a peek at those frozen tits of Hildr’s, he’ll raise his blade. She could cut glass with her nipples, you know. Carve the whole Poetic Edda in a window.”

  This induced paroxysms of laughter, as the valkyries stumbled around, gulping mead from their drinking horns and repeating the phrase, “Raise his blade! Raise his blade!”

  I could not decide if I loved them or hated them.

  “Ok, I’ll do it,” shouted Hildr suddenly, and she began to fumble with her armor. “I’ll have a crack at that beautiful mouth. And the sex lines.”

  The valkyries cheered, throwing their mead into the air.

  “That’s it Hildr, give him a peek at your thatched cottage!” shouted a valkyrie who appeared barely able to stand.

  “Let him taste your plum tree,” goaded another.

  As Hildr stumbled around trying to unclasp her sword belt, another valkyrie began chanting, “Bugle-hole, Bugle-hole!” for no apparent reason. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what that was.

  “Quiet,” shouted the most somber of the valkyries.

  Of course Hildr ignored her, and her armor clattered to the floor. “Almost got ‘em out ladies,” she yelled excitedly, while almost tripping over her sword belt. “Nothing you all haven’t seen before, but I’ll get his dagger stiff.”

  But before Hildr could make further progress towards removing her dress, Gondul suddenly drew her sword. With a lightning-fast strike, she plunged it through Hildr’s neck. Hildr fell to the floor with a gurgling shriek, blood pouring from her throat.

  Dread stopped my heart. Holy shit. These women were insane.

  The valkyries fell silent—until Hildr crawled to her knees, coughing and spitting blood. For a moment I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Her neck had nearly been severed.

  In my shock, I’d nearly forgotten that valkyries couldn’t die.

  “Gods in Hel Gondul, you know that’s not the kind of dagger I was talking about,” Hildr yelled as her neck
healed. “It’s a euphemism for his penis.”

  “I understood the metaphor.” Gondul glared at Hildr.

  I half expected Hildr to draw her own sword and fight the valkyrie leader, but instead she snatched a mead horn from a valkyrie standing next to her and began to drink loudly from it.

  “Are you quite done?” Gondul barked.

  Hildr threw the horn on the ground. “You know it really parches my throat when you stab me in the neck. I’m just having a little fun with our guest, right girls?”

  “Valkyries,” said Galin again, trying to gain control of the situation. “I am here on a quest. I need your help—”

  “Why should we help you?” Gondul snapped.

  “I’m looking for information. I’m interested in visiting Mimisbrunnr. We would be most appreciative if you could show us where it is.”

  Gondul shook her head, her blonde hair cascading over her silver epaulets. “We don’t do anything without payment.”

  Galin frowned. “I don’t have any money.”

  “I wasn’t speaking of money.”

  Galin’s body went tense. “I’m not bartering my body.”

  “So I’ve gathered,” said Gondul. “How ‘bout the little princess then? Maybe she can offer us something. Doesn’t have to be money.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “How ‘bout if she wins a fight with my best warrior, I’ll help you find Mimisbrunnr.”

  “And if I lose?” I cut in, not liking where this was going.

  An enormous grin spread across Gondul’s face. “If you lose, Hildr, myself, and the rest of us valkyries get a little taste of that dagger of his.”

  “Absolutely not,” I began.

  “On one condition,” said Galin, cutting me off.

  “Galin!” I shouted, “What are you doing?”

  But Gondul held up a hand. “And what would that be?”

  “I choose the contest and the fighter.”

  Gondul shook her head. “You choose the contest, I choose the fighter.”

  What the fuck was he getting me into?