Alfheim Academy (Alfheim Academy

by S. T. Bende

  I shook my head. “That was years ago. All this time you stood by while your realm—and your citizens—were destroyed.”

  Constance squeezed her fingertips together. “I convinced myself that Narrik’s narrative was true—that in order to protect our world, we had to preserve it; prevent any change coming from the outside.”

  “Did you miss the insanely horrific changes happening from the inside?”

  “I allowed myself to believe that the troubles other-worlders would bring would make things even worse. I couldn’t face knowing that I’d . . . lost my family.” The words came on a breath. “To a barrier that might not serve my realm’s highest good.”

  “It doesn’t serve the realm’s highest good.” I held tight to my sword. “And if things don’t improve, Alfheim’s going to implode. How do we fix this? How do we restore the balance of power that was in place before the Kongelig took control?”

  “Such restructuring would require a vote.”

  “That won’t work. The last time there was a vote, the Opprør leaders disappeared. And last I checked, nobody’s heard from them since. What else do you have?”

  “Nothing.” Constance rubbed her temples. “Under our current governance, the monarch holds one-third of the vote. The remaining two-thirds go to the cabinet, who, at the moment, are Kongelig. If I was able to locate the missing Opprør leaders and unite them behind an increased rule for the monarchy, then I could—”

  “Nobody will support you,” I interrupted. “In their eyes, you and Narrik are the same.”

  The queen cringed.

  “Now me, on the other hand, they’ll get behind.” My sword vibrated as if in agreement. “Not only did my team return the crystal, saving the tree and protecting Alfheim from an invasion, but I haven’t spent the last decade-and-a-half spewing hatred through the realm. I’m sorry you lost your daughter, and I’m sorry Narrik took some of your power. But as monarch, you should have fought harder for your realm.”

  “And now you want to take on that job?”

  “I want . . .” Gods, there were so many things I wanted. But only one really mattered. “I want peace in Alfheim.”

  A long pause followed my declaration. Behind me, Viggo, Wynter and Signy were so still I barely heard their breaths.

  I glanced over my shoulder, seeking out Signy. When our eyes locked, my anger dropped to the ground in a torrent of pent-up tension. In that moment, it hit me: overthrowing the queen would only invite more discord. The only solution—the only way to restore light—was to do the unthinkable.

  And hope I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life.

  Here goes nothing.

  I squared my shoulders and faced my grandmother. “I want peace in this realm,” I repeated. “And I believe the best way to achieve that peace is for the two of us to work together.”

  Air rushed from my friends’ lips.

  “What?” Viggo blurted, at the same time Wynter interjected, “Are you insane?”

  But Signy merely nodded. Good.

  “Hear me out.” I raised a hand. “The realm’s lost faith in Constance. But the Kongelig won’t grant a sixteen-year-old one-third control of their governance. They’ll appoint a regent until I’m of age, and Frigga only knows what kind of monster they’ll choose—or the damage they’ll inflict with complete governmental control in two years’ time. If Constance and I are co-monarchs, and if we rally the realm behind us by recovering the missing Opprør leaders, we stand a chance of overthrowing the Kongelig . . . before they completely destroy Alfheim.”

  Viggo raised a brow. “You think that’ll work?”

  “It depends.” I turned to Constance. “On whether you’re actually willing to change—change your rule, change the means by which you govern, change the means by which you protect Alfheim’s borders. Change the very fiber of your being, or at least maintain the outward appearance of having done so, for so long as you live. Fear can’t rule your heart, and in those moments when it threatens to . . . you’ll have to cede to me; hand over decision making so our citizens can be guided with love. Otherwise, there’s no deal.”

  I meant it. There could be only love to rule the Alfheim, and if Constance was not prepared to embody that love, then there could be only one ruler.

  Me.

  “I . . .” Constance’s features tightened in dismay. “I . . .”

  I apprised the woman who’d driven the light realm to darkness. Then I pointed to the school. “Inside that building, they teach us that Alfheim stands for light; for hope; for what’s good in the realms. The Alfheim Tree exists so we can bring the resonance of those virtues to all worlds, even those cloaked in darkness. If we manage to reach creatures in those realms, then it’s our duty to grant them entry. A true ruler of Alfheim would judge a being by the light in his heart, not the light in his realm. If any part of you still feels that off-worlders don’t belong here, then I will not allow you to rule at my side. I will find a way to take down the Kongelig myself. And I will not offer you my protection.” I drew a breath. “Well?”

  Constance bristled. “By decree of the Norns, the crown is my birthright for the duration of my lifetime. My entire lifetime.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” I said simply. “Either you take my deal, or I take you down. I won’t let you hurt us any longer.”

  My grandmother stared at me for an endless beat. But I didn’t blink—I’d meant every word of what I said.

  After a short eternity, the lines around Constance’s eyes softened. “When your mother died, the Norns delivered a copy of your prophecy to me, for safekeeping. Do you know all of what it said?”

  “I’m a duality, capable of guiding the realms to peace with my light side or war with my dark.” I recited.

  “That’s only part of your prophecy. It also said if you chose to follow the light, you would serve as one half of Alfheim’s Verge Key—one of two primary guardians of the realm.”

  “Two?” I asked. “I thought there was only one of each Key.”

  “Normally, that is true. In the history of our realm, there has only ever been one other set of dual keys. They were my grandparents, and they held the realms in peace for two full centuries as Queen Helena and King Leon.”

  Jeez, how long was I going to live?

  “Who’s the other Verge Key now?” I asked.

  Constance nodded at Viggo, and my mouth formed a small O.

  Him?

  “You will make a strong Guardian of Alfheim,” Constance said. “A Verge who guides us into a more progressive future.”

  Sure. If I could figure out how to be a monarch. If I could learn how to navigate Alfheim’s court and political arena. If whatever army Narrik managed to accrue to resist me didn’t eat me the Helheim alive.

  “Do you accept my terms?” My grip trembled against the vibration of my sword. “To lay down your bigotry, help me find the Opprør, and drop your barrier? The Empati can evaluate intentions; we don’t need a blockade.”

  Constance flinched, but nodded in defeat.

  “Good. We’re also going to extend an invitation for my cousin, Ondyr of Svartalfheim to take up residence here. With a dad like Dragen, he’s due for a break.”

  “You have my word.” Constance offered her hand, and I closed the distance between us. Her handshake was cold and stiff, but it was a start; something to build on. I’d take it.

  “With the tree restored, I demand our current cabinet recall the Midgard party effective immediately.” I stared Constance down.

  “It will be done.”

  “And if they’re smart, the Kongelig will return the missing leaders of the Opprør party before we start investigating their disappearance . . . and doling out sentences,” I pressed

  Constance’s brows knitted together. “I don’t know where the leaders were taken. But I will question the cabinet.”

  “We will question the cabinet,” I said coolly. “And we will get our leaders back.”

  “Understood.” Co
nstance’s eyes dropped to the sword in my hand, its blade still caked in blood. When she looked to my right, her breath caught. “Where did you get those?”

  I followed her sight line, and smiled when I realized Viggo had somehow managed to wedge his sword between his arm and his crutch.

  “Your hawk brought them.”

  Constance’s eyes widened. “I haven’t seen these since my grandparents’ reign. The swords were crafted by dwarves, from the same metal that forged Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir.”

  “What?” Viggo’s eyes bulged. “We were holding . . . the bird gave us . . . we used . . .” He let out a low whistle.

  I had to agree. Handing two students dwarven-made swords composed of the same metal as Thor’s hammer seemed like a very trusting move on the part of the Hábrók. “Maybe somebody should take them back.”

  Viggo shook his head. “I want mine.”

  “I want mine too, but I’d imagine so do a lot of creatures. Shouldn’t they be in a vault or something? For safekeeping?”

  Signy spoke up. “Aura’s right. The Protektors have been responsible for safeguarding the Light Swords since their inception. When Queen Helena and King Leon possessed them, they were kept in the Treasure Vault for their owners’—and their own—protection. More than a few intruders from Svartalfheim, Muspelheim, and even Helheim, invaded our borders with the intent of stealing the weapons. When wielded individually, the swords are formidable. But when used in tandem, they’re nearly unstoppable. As you’ve seen.”

  I pried Viggo’s sword from his arm, earning a look of pained despair. Then I held out my hands to Signy. “Here.”

  She took the swords with a smile. “Don’t worry—when you need them again, the Hábrók will retrieve them and bring them to you. She’s more than just the royal messenger—Frigga gifted her to our realm for our protection. And as our Keys, the Hábrók will intuit what you require to keep our world safe.”

  “Okay.” Viggo’s face was mostly impassive, though the twinge around his eyes left him looking less like an all-powerful Verge Key, and more like a little boy who’d lost his new toy.

  “And now,” Signy carefully nestled the swords beneath her arm, “we should let the school know the threat has been removed. I’ll confirm the Council of Protektors is aware that the Alfheim Tree has been restored.”

  Constance pressed her palms to the stone steps, and rose on shaky legs. “I will personally address the cabinet and apprise them of the restructuring of our monarchy. And I will send a party to Svartalfheim to retrieve Ondyr.”

  “Are you sure his father won’t be waiting?” Signy turned to Wynter. “Where exactly did your portal take Dragen and the Huldra?”

  Wynter’s eyes sparkled behind heavily kohled lids. “I sent them to Hel’s icy, inner chamber of Náströnd. There’s no way they’re getting back to Svartalfheim, or anywhere, ever.”

  “Well done.” Signy’s mouth turned up. She motioned for Wynter to follow before limping carefully toward the queen.

  I doubled back to the ivy door, and let the healers, Dyr, and Bob, know it was safe to come inside. I pulled one of the healers aside as she passed into the courtyard. “There’s a girl inside the school—Britney Blomgren. Long, dark hair. A little shorter than me. She was bought in shortly after the portal opened. Can she be revived, or is she . . . did she . . .” I didn’t want to finish the sentence.

  “A girl was triaged just inside the entry. She’d sustained multiple traumas, and her physiological systems had shut down.” The healer paused. “They were able to revive her, but it will be some time before we can ascertain whether any of her systems incurred permanent damage.”

  “Okay.” My heart tugged. Britney and I hadn’t been friends—far from it. She’d shoved anyone in her path below water just to keep herself from drowning, and in the process made the world around her absolutely awful. But I was building a world of infinite possibilities; one ripe with hopes, dreams, and enough love to fill the cosmos. Maybe, one day, Britney would be strong enough to share in it.

  As the rest of the healing team filed past me, I made my way back to the center of the courtyard where Viggo was waiting. Wynter had already gone inside, and Signy stood on the steps with the queen. She turned around to apprise my training partner. “I’d ask if you want the healers to escort you to the Kurera wing, but I suspect you have healing of a different kind to focus on right now.”

  “Yeah. I need to talk to Aura,” Viggo confirmed.

  My stomach lurched.

  “Very well. Come with us, Your Majesty.” Signy gestured toward the academy doors. “I’ll arrange a meeting for you and Aura to discuss transitioning the monarchy. In the meantime, with your Protektors soon returning from Midgard, there is at least one Musa who will be most pleased to hear her mother is coming home. Do you want to deliver the news to the students?”

  The queen nodded at me, then followed Signy through the door, leaving me alone with Viggo.

  Alone. With Viggo.

  Yikes.

  I shook my head, draining the fresh wave of anxiety that flooded my brain. After facing a Huldra, battling a dark elf, and squaring off against the queen, an open, honest conversation with Viggo should have been a walk in the park.

  So why did every fiber of my being want to run?

  Chapter 23

  “WE NEED TO TALK.” Viggo turned on his crutches. He limped awkwardly toward the ivy door at the back of the courtyard.

  “Uh . . . right.” Behind us, doors banged open as students streamed out of their residence halls. Most would no doubt be heading for the Alfheim Tree, to see if the report was true, but a few would make their way into the courtyard, and possibly out to the forest. And this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have in front of anyone else. “Do you feel well enough to go for a walk? Or a hobble?”

  Viggo chuckled. “I don’t think my leg could get me very far. But my wings are just fine. Race you to the waterfall?”

  “I don’t think a race in your condition is the best—oh!” My heart jumped as Viggo launched himself in the air. He clutched his crutches in one hand and soared through the trees, looking over his shoulder and calling back to me, “You coming, Glitre?”

  I guessed I was.

  With a flex of my shoulders, I leapt off the ground. My wings flapped, quickly pulling me higher as I followed Viggo toward the forest. He soared over the trees, and I stayed close as he headed up the side of the hill that marked the entrance to the waterfall.

  “There’s the tunnel,” I shouted. “Aren’t we supposed to go through there?”

  “Only if we’re walking. I told you we could do things faster if we traveled my way.” He reached the top of the cliff and dove over. I pushed harder, reaching the top a few seconds after he did, and flexing my wings so I hovered beyond the water’s spray.

  “Down here, Glitre,” he called.

  I followed the sound of his voice to where the waterfall, pond, and artfully arranged vegetation set a pristine scene. Viggo hovered a few feet above the willow where we’d sat before. He tossed his crutches to the ground before carefully lowering himself onto the grass and squinting up at me. “You can stay up there, but it’s going to be hard to talk.”

  Right. I lowered my head and dove for the ground, covering the hundred-plus feet in seconds. With a flap, I pulled up to land. I sat beneath the willow, careful not to get too close to Viggo. I didn’t want to accidentally bump his injured leg . . . or freak myself out any more than I already was.

  Viggo raised an eyebrow. “When were you planning to tell me about the whole mate thing?”

  Yikes. We were jumping right in.

  “Um, I don’t know. Never?”

  “Never?” Viggo frowned. “Is the idea of being with me that awful?”

  “No! I mean, I don’t know. I’m just not comfortable losing control over every freaking aspect of my life. Whoever I marry—mate, whatever it’s called here . . . that seems like something I should get to choose for myself. No offense.
”

  “None taken.” Viggo studied me thoughtfully. “And I agree.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course, I do. This is as weird for me as it is for you.”

  Air rushed from my lungs. “Good.”

  “Come here, Glitre.” Viggo held out his arm. I cautiously scooted toward him, and he looped his arm around the small of my back. Goosebumps shot up my spine as he pulled me closer and rested his chin atop my head.

  It felt . . . nice.

  Extremely nice.

  As I let my cheek drop to Viggo’s shoulder, and breathed in the familiar scent of cedar, my heartrate picked up. I relaxed into the guy who knew me better than almost anyone in Alfheim; the guy I wanted to get to know even better, now that we’d saved our world.

  Finally.

  “For most of my life, I had no voice.” Viggo’s chest vibrated against my arm. “My parents were stationed in Svartalfheim, and since they wanted us to stay together, it became my home, too. When they died, my Protektor and I went into hiding—with good reason, but I didn’t have a say in that, either. Then I got here, and I thought I’d finally have a say in how things played out. But I was assigned a discipline, and a training partner . . . and a mate. No matter how much I wanted to take control of my life, every single step was mapped out for me.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered.

  “But you know what’s funny?” Viggo removed his chin from my head.

  “What?”

  “As much as I hate that the Norns decided how I was going to spend my life, they got the big things right. I like being a Verge. I waited sixteen years hoping for the chance to live in Alfheim, and I like that I get to spend the rest of my life defending it. I like being a Key—even if I have to share the job with somebody else. I like knowing that in a few years, I’ll have the power to make the decisions that keep our realm safe. And . . .”

  Viggo lifted his arm and tucked his fingers beneath my chin. I had no choice but to look him in the eye.