Soren sighed. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag for Seppo, Rosamund, and Diaval. Satu should know, too, if she doesn’t already, and is waiting to approach us about it. As for the rest … I have people on my guard and as my advisors, but I wouldn’t say I trust them. I trust that I can outmaneuver them should I need to, and I trust that it’s more likely for them to get stabbed in the back than me, but not much else.”
I groaned. Typical Permafrost relationships. “Maybe you have white hair not because it’s a genetic issue; maybe it really is stress. Fuck, hearing that makes me stressed. I’m so tired of having to worry about everyone’s intentions.”
Soren cradled my face in his palms, lifting my head to look him in the eyes. “You’re stronger than you know, Janneke. But know that I would never allow anyone to come even close enough to harm a hair on your head.”
“That’s what worries me,” I said. “I’m the stag. I’m much less easy to get rid of than you are.”
“Are you calling me easily replaced?” he asked, mock offense in his voice.
“Promise that if you end up protecting me, you’ll let me protect you the same way. We’re partners. We protect each other. Not me, you or you, me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it being any other way,” he said. “No matter what the future holds.”
His mouth met mine again, and I became lost in the world that was his lips, his body, once more. It was so nice, so easy, to have this time to take all my worries away, to feel nothing but warmth and love in a way that hadn’t existed for years. It physically ached, knowing the danger we were going into, knowing that we both were going to have to face someone who caused us unbearable harm. We could survive it together, I knew that too, but I wished we had time to enjoy one another like we were now. It wasn’t even sex that I wished for; his company and my head on his chest and his smell surrounding me, his steady breath and large body that never failed to make me feel shielded and safe. He was all I needed to remain calm in the chaos.
It was a good while later before we finally rose and dressed again. I stared at myself in the mirror. I was different. Healed from trauma but with cracks still running beneath like invisible veins. I turned my body to the side. I didn’t recognize myself. Was I human? Goblin? Something else entirely now that I held the power of the stag? I was used to being forgotten, used to sharp edges. I used to be smaller too, back when I ate as little as I could. It was jarring enough to make me wonder if I was even at a proper weight.
I turned to Soren frowning. “Am I still me?” I blushed when asking the question. Was this vanity?
“Of course. The same Janneke I fell for,” Soren said as he slid into his clothing. “You were always malnourished before. A bunch of your bones jutted out so that sometimes I thought they’d break the skin. You are stronger now. You eat better. Still not enough, but better. You’ve never lost your spirit.”
“I know it’s dumb, but I feel almost … bad about my weight,” I said softly.
Soren sighed. “I wish you could see what I see, but I know that’s impossible. I know telling you you’re beautiful won’t help much either. But you are. And I’m positive you’ll see it one day when your mind is no longer trapped.”
Still, I frowned at the swell of my breast and the curves of my hips and stomach. He wasn’t wrong about that. I’d filled out a lot more since becoming the stag, but not perhaps in a bad way. Food was still something I struggled with, but as I got stronger physically and mentally, I didn’t need to control how I ate to replace the lack of control in my life. At least, not as much as I had in a long while. Eating still came with a sense of shame though, like I was giving in against the strict discipline I’d forced myself to have for the past hundred years. It was silly, I knew.
But still, staring at my reflection was weird.
“I feel like I have to inform you that if you don’t put clothes on soon, I’m about to undo all the progress I’ve made in actually getting out of bed,” Soren said, motioning to his own outfit. Something hot pooled in my stomach as I pulled on my clothes.
“You’re very in tune with your vices, you know that?” I said, hopping on one foot to get my boot on.
“I’m merely aware of them and have no objection acting on most of them,” Soren said, smirking. “Our codes of honor are different.”
“I thought we agreed the whole ‘goblins don’t feel emotions’ thing was biased,” I argued.
“Never said anything about that. I feel a lot less sympathy for my dinner.” His smile grew wider, and I scowled at him.
“It’s weird to eat venison while also holding the title of the stag. It feels like I’m cannibalizing in some way.”
“See?” Soren said, making his point.
Breathing deeply and pinching my nose with my hand, I turned to him. “Let’s get the others. It’s time to plan.”
8
THE GNAWING SERPENT
EVERYONE SOREN TRUSTED enough for the situation turned out to be fewer people than I thought. We were in the solar that we’d converted to a war room a bit after we came into ownership of the Erkling’s palace. We’d replaced the furniture, which had been mostly chairs and loungers, with a large table that mapped the entire Permafrost both geographically and topographically, with a model of the nine worlds placed next to it in scale similar to the map.
I recognized every face currently standing around the table. Of course, there was Seppo, Rose, and Diaval, but also Seppo’s mother, Satu. A bright-haired goblin stood by the door, guarding it in case anyone tried to get in. I couldn’t remember exactly, but I thought his name may have been Landon. He’d been one of the few people that had stuck around after the Erlking’s death, one way or another.
Seppo had joined Soren’s circle of advisors right away, which wasn’t surprising considering his role during the Hunt. He always had something helpful to say and a new perspective of situations that we got stuck on. He also was the reason none of us fell asleep.
Rose and Diaval had come later, a few months after the Hunt, when we’d finally got all the favor-seekers and bootlickers to leave us alone. Goblins who ignored or despised us before now desperately wanted to be seen as friends and allies. Only after Soren shooed them all away did they come out and ask to pledge allegiance and to possibly become members of his guard if he saw them fit.
It took only a month before the two of them were accepted. Diaval’s magic brought us an unexpected boon and me an unexpected best friend, and Rosamund had let it slip early on that he was also dating Seppo and if Seppo trusted him, I couldn’t find a reason not to.
Of course, with Seppo, came Satu, his mother. If you didn’t know, she could be any adult aging gracefully into her late thirties or early forties, but that didn’t fool me. She’d been around for a long time. No-nonsense and with years of experience behind her, she obviously found her way on the council. She knew the goblin world better than any of us in terms of society and brought with her others to help with everyday tasks like guarding and running the grounds smoothly and even added a member of the council.
She stood next to Satu, a goblin whose face was wrinkled and leathery, withered by age and the harshness of life in the Permafrost. Even goblins aged, though very slowly, and their skin became old like the rest of the creatures on this world. Whether from the human realm, Asgard, or the Permafrost, none of us would live forever. This goblin preferred to wear the same weathered leathers every day and tied back his graying hair into a short ponytail. His face was decorated with battle scars half-covered in the salt-and-pepper hair of his beard. His name was Ivar.
It’d shocked me at first to see an older goblin who truly looked old. The Permafrost extended lifespans, and goblins in general were slow to age, but Satu had been around forever and she looked nowhere near as ancient. Even the power radiating from him was duller, like it was muted.
Ivar was an advisor brought into the group by Satu, who was genuinely impressed at his ability to strategize for war, famine, and any other disas
ter one could think of. He was taciturn and never spoke more than a few sentences, but his words were valued heavily just the same. He reminded me a bit of Satu, how he was, except for being older and a male. He tended to pull more weight when it came to the rest of the goblin species and was more likely to be listened to than her. It struck me as unfair because Satu had never steered us wrong yet, but I also couldn’t say I was surprised by it.
But if she had a problem with it, it didn’t show, because she’d been the one to recommend him, and so he joined Soren’s small group of advisors.
The advisor I knew least about was Landon. He made it clear on his first day, not only was he young, but cocky too, and filled with the usual sense of superiority his species had over creatures other than themselves. As far we knew, he was only here because he was one of the few goblins who stayed at the palace during some parts of the old Erlking’s life and knew a decent amount of rumors and gossip as well as the secret passageways that lurked in the palace. He may have been an arrogant ass, but he knew the relationships between younger goblins the same way Satu did with older goblins and that was information we needed.
And of course there was Tanya. She wouldn’t separate from her nephew even if you threatened to cut her in half with an axe. The perpetually curt she-goblin stood slightly off from everyone else, most likely by her own choice. She sent scathing glares at anyone who dared approach her, and so we all stood away, hoping not to get on her bad side. Other than Soren, who was liked solely because he was a blood relative, the only other person whose presence she tolerated was Diaval.
Out of the many, many creatures in the Permafrost, Tanya terrified me.
And that was it. Three elder goblins, three younger goblins, and myself. Out of the entire Permafrost, these were who Soren trusted with the information at hand.
He was tense. I could feel it in my own shoulders, like a second sense, and he closed his eyes and breathed in and out a few times before opening them again and leaning forward to rest his hands on the table map. A few cracks appeared in the table as he dug his fingers in, and I touched his arm in sympathy.
Soren began to tell them what I’d told him, about Lydian, about the end of the world and how it was caused, about the plan not to let it happen no matter what. Those who originally knew something was up didn’t look surprised as Soren revealed detail after secret detail, and those who didn’t know anything had jaws that became slightly more slacked, eyes that widened a little more, and faces that changed color for the briefest of moments. Satu, as I predicted, was not fazed by the news, instead only narrowing her eyes in thought.
Self-hatred wafted from Soren, and I tasted it on my tongue, in the back of my throat. It vibrated in me like I was the one feeling it. Despite our talk, he was still angry at himself for the cosmic fate he’d been given, as if any of it was his fault in the first place. It was only natural and definitely not something I could judge since I wallowed in it for the better part of a century, but it was something I ached to feel in him. Especially since I knew how dangerous it was.
But he had me, and I’d be damned if I’d let him get anywhere near the level of self-loathing I’d gone through.
Even after Soren spoke, the others still silently processed his words. He looked at me, almost helplessly, and I stroked his hand reassuringly. This would be okay. It would all be okay.
As usual, Seppo was the first one to break the silence. “You’re not … you’re not considering bringing Lydian back, are you?” His response reminded me of someone being informed a murderer had been asked to a casual dinner.
I folded my hands in front of me. “Not exactly. See, we need him in the current state he is. Not dead and crossed over completely, but also not living. That way, he inhabits a liminal space.”
“And we need him in a liminal space because…?” Seppo pressed.
“We’ve deduced one of the few ways—perhaps the only way—to stop Ragnarök before it begins is to stop Fimbulwinter from starting. Fimbulwinter lasts three years and won’t spare us any more than it will humans. Thousands will die from famine, plague, and at the hands of others. Those left over will be what’s left to fight in Ragnarök. To stop Fimbulwinter, we have to kill Fjalar. His cries start Fimbulwinter in the first place. But he’s a liminal being. We need another liminal being to guide us through the realms to find him.”
“Janneke still can’t access the liminal realm by herself,” Diaval said, “much less bring us all there. And while I managed to push her in there for twenty minutes to speak to Lydian’s specter, I won’t be able to do the same for everyone here for even a quarter of that length.”
I looked away from the rest of the group as they began to murmur, and shame tightened my chest. Another reminder that despite the stag choosing me for the job, I was absolute shit at it. Unable to even reach the liminal realm by myself despite the stag being a liminal. Despite trying to keep my failures under wraps, now multiple people knew. I didn’t blame Diaval for disclosing the information. It was needed in this context. But the sick feeling inside of me, the one of bitter disappointment, was hard to ignore.
So what, a voice told me, and it thankfully wasn’t Lydian’s. You’ll get better at this. You can master this.
This time, Soren grasped my forearm with his hand and squeezed gently to comfort me.
Right. Self-loathing gets you nowhere.
“The problem is that Lydian’s shade is still being held by Hel,” I continued. “He’s not dead and can’t properly pass on due to not having the burial rites done, but he’s also not alive either and that means that he’s the property of Hel. We need to get him back, one way or another.”
Once again, the others stared at me blankly. “You want to haggle for Lydian’s spirit with Hel?” Rosamund asked incredulously. “Even Frigga couldn’t do that for Baldur. Like, she managed to rally up every creature ever to bring back her son, and she was the queen of Asgard, and even she couldn’t get him out.”
“Technically, Baldur was already dead, and Frigga wanted him to come back to life fully. Lydian’s still kind of existing. So, the situations are different,” Seppo said, earning a glare from his partner. “What? It’s true!”
Rosamund pinched the bridge of his nose. “You get my point. She’s not about to hand over someone’s spirit even to the Erlking and the stag. She’s Hel.”
“While Rosamund could have said it more tactfully.” Satu spoke up for the first time, her voice low and calm. “He is right. Hel is fickle and will do anything to keep what she has in her grasp. She’s cunning, possessive, and dangerous. She’s also much less forgiving of slights than, say, a giantess goddess like Skadi.” Satu’s dark eyes flickered over to Soren at the last bit of her sentence.
“Am I ever going to find out what you did to piss her off?” I asked Soren.
Blood pooled in Soren’s cheeks as he blushed, turning the white-blue skin a darkish purple. “Not if I live to be a million years.”
“Jeez,” Seppo said. “You look really weird when you blush, Soren.”
Soren narrowed his eyes. “I was not blushing.”
“Liar,” Rosamund muttered from his place at the table.
“I think it looks wonderful,” I cut in, hoping to stop an argument.
“As much as I’d love to spend this time talking about Soren’s vanity,” Diaval said, earning a glare from Soren. “What?” She shrugged. “It’s true. Don’t worry, Soren. If you were my type, I’d absolutely ravish you.”
Seppo raised an eyebrow. “You have a type?”
Diaval didn’t blink. “I’m fond of the nonexistent variety of partners.”
Ivar sighed in a purposefully overdramatic way. “Anyway, Satu is right. Dealing with Hel and dealing with Skadi are two different things. Janneke, especially, will be in danger as she’ll have to be the one to make the deal, being the most powerful of the group. We don’t know what Hel will demand, or if she’ll attack outright. And Janneke being the stag and you being the Erlking”—he gave So
ren a pointed look—“will not save you if she decides she wants you gone.”
I wanted to rub my temples because pressure was beginning to build underneath my eyes. We definitely weren’t dealing with Hel until I got rid of this oncoming headache. “I can do whatever task she asks of me, and I know she’ll make me do something terrible, but I’ve survived worse than Hel. We can win Lydian’s shade back.”
“Then there’s traveling to the liminal realm with Lydian’s shade,” Ivar continued. “Is Diaval able to open a portal for you all to get there, even if she can’t fully lead you into it?”
“Diaval can definitely open a portal anywhere she wants even if she’s going in blind,” Diaval said. “She can also understand the common tongue, and dislikes when old men talk about her like she’s not sitting literally right next to them.” The she-goblin crossed her arms and glared at the elder goblin sitting directly to her right.
I tried my hardest to hold back a snicker, but obviously the others weren’t even trying as small chuckles erupted from everyone at the table. Even steely-eyed Satu was hiding her smile.
“So, Diaval can get us where we need to go and then what … we trust Lydian to lead us?” Soren brought up. “I know we don’t have a lot of options, but does anyone here really trust Lydian to not, you know, try to kill us?”
“We don’t have ‘not a lot of options,’” I said. “We have one option, and that’s Lydian. And I have to believe that stopping the destruction of what he showed me means more to him than killing us because he’s feeling a tad murderous. The original reason for wanting to kill us doesn’t exist anymore, and while I won’t ever trust him, I think the five of us can take him if he tries anything.”
It was a little more complicated than that. I wouldn’t trust Lydian to lead his own horse to water if it came down to it. The stag, however, had a different opinion regarding being able to trust the goblin enough to be led through a realm only he could inhabit fully.
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