The Immortal Queen

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “Water sounds good.” I scowl, wondering at his sudden retreat. It’s not like Aiden to give up a chance to hold me.

  He stalks to the side of the stream and lifts two bottles out of the water. “I put them back in the stream to cool it off.”

  Always so thoughtful, considerate. Being with him makes me realize just how selfish a person I truly am. “Thank you.”

  His gaze dips to my arm and then he crouches again, lifting the limb to examine the healing bite mark.

  “I did this, didn’t I.” It’s not a question.

  “How much do you remember?”

  He fingers a strand of my dyed hair. “There were two of you. The shifter...?”

  “Bard. He’s on our side. He took the bloodoath for me.”

  “So, you won’t marry Wardon.” Is that hope I see in his green eyes.

  “Never. But I would be happy to kill him.” If Angrboda doesn’t do it first.

  His gaze falls to my arm again. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. You warned me. I caught the wolf off guard.”

  He releases me and runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t make excuses. I hurt you.”

  “It was an accident.”

  He grunts, gets up, paces to the far side of the camp, does an abrupt about face and then returns.

  “Aiden?” I study him closely. “Why are you out here?”

  He laughs but it is not a pleasant sound. “I should be asking you that.”

  I’m getting a crick in my neck from looking up at him. “I followed you.”

  “You shouldn’t have.” He shakes his head, his movements stiff and jerky. “Not until after the gauntlet. It’s not safe for you.”

  “We’ll cross back over as soon as we reconnect with Nahini.”

  He rounds on me. “What the hell were you thinking, coming after me like that? Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “Roughly.” His tone has me narrowing my eyes at him.

  “Not good enough. Not nearly good enough.” He waves his hand encompassing the darkened trees. “This is the Desolate Realm. Notice there’s no birds or squirrels.”

  “I did. So?”

  He glares at me. “Did it ever occur to you to wonder why?”

  It hadn’t but damned if I’ll admit it. He’ll most likely tell me anyway.

  “It’s because everything that grows here is poison, fed from the tainted spring, Hvergelmir. The water is from Niflheim.”

  That sounds familiar. “Niflheim is one of the nine worlds, right?”

  Aiden nods in confirmation. “It’s older than Underhill, dating back to the time before the gods or giants, when there was only Ginnungagap, the great nothingness. Beneath the ground here, every blade of grass, every mushroom, every berry. No food that won’t kill you. The soil itself is blighted.”

  I frown. “But the village. There were fey there, they were growing crops.”

  “Poison crops,” he counters. “And those were huldra. Didn’t you see the tails?”

  “They were kind of hard to miss. Why would anyone grow poison crops?” Then it dawns on me, the obvious answer. “Wardon.”

  “An army marches on its stomach and it’s a cheap way to reduce numbers to your favor. The goods come in from the coast to feed the village and they export the grain to kill the kingdom’s enemies. That’s why the huldra knew I was a threat. After traveling for days across the Desolate Realm, they knew I was starving. Hell, it was just as likely they would make a meal out of the two of us if given the opportunity. Wardon provides them with enough to live on but there isn’t much to spare.”

  I swallow. “So, were you going to eat them first? Is that why they trapped you.”

  He shakes his head. “I wasn’t after the huldra, only their livestock. The wolf was so hungry and distracted, I didn’t hear them come up behind me. Took three shots with a cattle prod and when I woke up...”

  “The place was burning down around your ears.” I say. “You could have died.”

  “Not by fire.” He shakes his head. “Gods, do you know anything?”

  I rear back, as though the words could cut me. “I get that you had a shitty few days, but there’s no call to take it out on me.”

  Another of those hollow laughs escapes him. “You’re kidding, right? It has everything to do with you. Everything I do, it’s all for you. And it’s never enough.”

  I stare at him in the dim firelight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He turns his back on me. “Nothing. I don’t mean anything. Ignore me until you need to use me again. It’s what you do best.”

  “That’s not fair—”

  He rounds on me. “You know what’s not fair, Nic? That once again, I was fool enough to let you dictate the terms of our relationship. Last time I was your consort. This time you tell me no sex, that I’m not your boyfriend, that I’m not anything to you. Fine. I could live with that. Except for when we get dosed with pixie dust or Underhill messes with your hormones. Then all bets are off. I’m supposed to go back to servicing your needs, but only until the crisis is past. When it does, then you’re back to eyeing me with suspicion, to treating me like shit. You want to know why I ran? Because I’m sick of being your sex toy!”

  His words gut me, mostly because he isn’t wrong. “Who asked you to service me? No one. You keep volunteering, trying to change me. You think I like this situation? Like having all these...feelings?” I spit the last word out like it’s poison on my tongue.

  “Nic,” his chest is rising and falling rapidly.

  I hold up a hand. “No, you had your say. You tell me I’m using you. But aren’t you using me, too? I never wanted this, never asked for the responsibilities, the relationships that come with being Queen of the Shadow Throne. The more I try to untangle it all, the more snarls crop up. So, tell me, Aiden, since you know everything. If I’m so awful, why are you still here?”

  “If all I am is a snarl, then why bother saving me?” His hands clench and unclench at his sides. “You knew it was dangerous, that you had no way to track me. Yet you stumbled off into the unknown. The huldra could have killed you or trapped you and delivered you to Wardon. That’s what they do, seduce foolish mortals and lead them astray.”

  “Well, I didn’t find them all that appealing. Now you tell me, why you bit me and then ran away.”

  Something shifts in his eyes. The wolf. “It wasn’t me, not really. The wolf had taken over.”

  A chill goes through me. I’d thought it had been the wolf, but hearing Aiden confirm it... “So then why did he bite me and run away? I thought I was his mate.”

  Still can’t get my mind around that one.

  Aiden snorts as if he realizes how absurd the notion is. “He does, but that’s no

  guarantee he’ll be gentle with you. Tenderness is not the way of the wolf. It was a lesson, as well as a reprimand. He wanted to scare you, to make sure you wouldn’t keep taking chances.”

  And I’d gone and done the opposite. “Why?”

  He doesn’t answer, can’t hold my gaze. “Because when a wolf is hurting, he wants to be left alone, to find a safe place to lick his wounds.”

  Something about the way he says the words makes me realize he isn’t just talking about physical wounds. It’s in the stiffness of his posture, the way he clutches the blanket, concealing the nakedness that he usually ignores. The air of shame and guilt and impotent rage a miasma surrounding him. The way he’s avoiding my gaze, my touch. Dread coiled in my gut even as I asked the question I didn’t want answered. “What did the trolls do to you?”

  “Whatever they wanted.” He swallows, looks toward the night darkened water. “And I let them.”

  Naked and Afraid

  The words land with the impact of a meteor in my hollow stomach. I flinch, biting back the impulse to ask why. Why he’d allowed the miserable creatures to hurt him. The marks from the beatings are obvious. Even in the campfire light I see the swell of one cheek, the cuts on his neck,
the black and blue bruises on his bare calves. His body will recover, as soon as he eats enough to promote the healing. I’ve seen the miracle of his metabolism firsthand.

  But the physical signs of his torment are literally only skin deep.

  “Aiden,” I swallow and move closer so I can touch his hand. I need the contact, need to know he’s really right in front of me. He seems so far away, like he’s still lost in the dark woods. “What exactly—?”

  “They took my eye.”

  I stare at him, horrified. “What?”

  “It regenerated. Wardon brought a healer to me.” He pulls the blanket tighter around himself. “I killed them, or rather, the wolf did. The ones who did it. I didn’t think it would bother me so much, to be imprisoned and tortured.”

  The last word falls between us with the weight of an anvil. I flinch at the impact and because I am touching him, he feels it and jerks out of my grip.

  “Aiden,” I reach for him again but he shies away.

  “I’m going to the stream to wash,” he turns and stalks down the embankment, leaving me alone by the fire.

  My hands clench into white-knuckled fists. I would have liked to end them for him. And I wouldn’t have done it with my Goodnight Kiss either. No way would I tether the souls of the bastards who had hurt and humiliated him to the Hunt. No, I would impale them on a spike and then roast them slowly over an open fire, giving him the choice of whether to turn the spit.

  They are dead though, killed by Aiden’s own hands. But if he could overpower his captors, why had he endured the torment? If he’d let the wolf out sooner, he could have saved himself the pain, the humiliation. Why allow himself to be put through the abuse?

  I want to cry, want to rage, to scream, to kill something. More than anything else, I want to go to him. I stay where I am though. The bitter words we flung at each other still hang in the air. He’d said he needed to wash, even though it was obvious he’d already been to the stream. The only reason he’d have gone back was to avoid me.

  To lick his wounds in private.

  Five minutes pass, ten, fifteen. I sit like a particularly useless bump on a rotting log, trying to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing. It’s what I would have wanted, if I were in his place. Space to piece myself back together, a bit of distance and time.

  I frown and chuck a twig into the fire. But that was the wolf’s decision. And mine. Not Aiden’s. He’d wanted my touch, until I’d recoiled. The ugly reality wedging itself between us. It was only then he had run off.

  Misery fills me as I recall Harmony’s words. Neither will be as you remember them.

  I’m not sure I believe in the seer’s predictions, but Nahini’s white hair and Aiden’s tormented soul....

  Again, I glance toward the stream filled with a sense of wrongness at being separated from him, feeling like he needs me.

  For what though? What can I possibly say or do that would make any kind of difference? Vengeance has been met. Physically he’s okay. Aiden is immortal, he’s endured untold horrors inflicted by monsters of all shapes and sizes and survived, come out forged stronger by the fires he’s walked through. I have every confidence he will get past this as well.

  The fire dances before me, the heat and light sinuous but offering no comfort. I wish he would come back, just so I can see for myself that he’s all right. I pick up a stick by my boots and poke the wood beneath until the teepee of branches collapse, sending a rain of sparks up into the darkened sky.

  Go to him. It isn’t Aiden’s voice I hear in my head. I recognize it as part of myself even if the sentiment is foreign.

  I argue with it, this fractured bit of self. Tell it things it should already know. I am not the sort of girl to offer comfort to anyone. I’m cold, calculating. The Ice Bitch. I kill people. It was easier to run into the burning inn than to find the words that would make Aiden all right again. Words aren’t something I can stalk through the woods, or run to ground. They can’t be captured or killed and they always manage to escape me.

  He’s always stuck by you. Been there for you to talk to no matter how awful you are or how many times you’ve shut him down.

  “That’s different.” I speak aloud, aware that I have crossed the official line into talking to myself.

  Yes. He does it because he cares for you. You don’t because you’re selfish and scared. You use him, just like he said.

  I don’t like this small voice coming from inside me. Don’t like how it shines a light on the thick black shadows that hide my secret truths. And I really don’t like that it might be right.

  Aiden always wants to be near me. He would sleep in my room, at the foot of my bed if I let him. Maybe he doesn’t need space as much as he needs me.

  Go to him.

  I chuck a piece of the stick I’ve been fiddling with into the fire. What if I make it worse?

  There is no response. The voice has said its piece.

  Getting to my feet, I make a decision. If he tells me to back off again, I will without argument. But I will at least make the offer.

  The slope down to the water is steep and away from the light of the fire my eyesight is poor. Moonlight spills through the trees though and after a moment I spy the blanket on the shore.

  I half stumble half slide down the bank to where the blanket lays, then cast about for any sign of him. He’s standing in waist deep water, the silver white current bubbling around him. The air is chilly but steam rises from him. He’s just...standing there. Not washing or moving, bathed by water and moonlight. And regrets so thick they might as well be fog.

  I don’t think, just like when I went into the burning building. My actions might lead to disaster but as a hunter, I have learned to trust my instincts. Without giving myself time to deliberate, I strip down to my underwear and walk up behind him.

  The water is icy at first and I shiver. How can he stand it? The bottom is rocky, the sharp stones jutting up to poke my tender soles but I doggedly make my way to where he waits. I’m not noiseless. I don’t have his ability to move through the water like a wraith, so I know he hears me, but still he doesn’t turn.

  About a foot away from him the temperature increases. I take another hesitant step. Warmer still, like the difference between tepid bathwater and a hot tub. It’s him, I realize. The son of fire warming the glacial stream. My breaths comes in harsh pants but at least my teeth stop chattering. I wonder if I take another step will I boil alive?

  Slowly, giving him enough time to pull away, I reach for him, my hand landing on his shoulder blade. His skin is hot, though not the heat of fever. Words, those slippery little buggers, still elude me. I can give him this though, the feel of my skin against his, a subtle signal that he isn’t alone.

  Stiff as petrified wood, his skin is hot to the touch. He smells of cedar, sage and Aiden.

  There is a pause, the kind of silence just before impact.

  “Don’t I disgust you?” he murmurs.

  “Why would you?” I take a chance and move closer, sliding both hands around him in a sort of backwards hug, partly because I don’t have anything in my arsenal to combat his demons, and partly because I just want to touch him.

  “Because....” He shakes his head as though not sure of how to finish.

  I swallow and take the final step until I’m pressed flush against his back. “You don’t disgust me, Aiden. I don’t think you ever could.”

  I feel his every breath as his lungs expand and deflate. “I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  He laughs but there is no humor in it. “All of it. Running away. Getting captured, not escaping. Putting you in a difficult situation, then yelling at you. Mostly yelling at you.”

  I press my cheek against his back. “Do you really feel like I’m using you like some sort of sex toy?”

  He’s quiet a moment. “Sometimes.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  Beneath my palms, he tenses. He takes a quavering breath. “The trolls
would have hurt you. Tortured you in front of me. I thought I could endure it. The wolf wanted to fight, but I knew if I did, they would have hurt you and that I knew I couldn’t stand.”

  He had fought for my sake. Had let himself be maimed all to save me enduring the same. I don’t say anything, just hold him tighter, moving one hand up until it covers his hammering heart.

  He puts his own hand over it, his grip almost painful. “You know what I dreamed about that last night at the farm? That you let me hold you all night. Nothing else. You just wanted to be close to me. Without magic, or hormones, or anything else compelling you. That you just...want me.”

  I do. The words stick in my throat. I squeeze him tighter.

  “I should have fought them.” His throat bobs. “A true warrior would rather die than let himself be captured.”

  “The last thing I need,” I say dryly. “Is another dead warrior on my hands.”

  He laughs, the sound almost strangled.

  I press a kiss to his shoulder blade. “I doubt I’ll ever understand you, but I like you as you are. Alive and well.”

  “Same,” he murmurs and turns in my grasp. “Nic?”

  I shiver as he presses into me. Where his flesh touches mine, the heat seeps in, chasing the last of the icy grip of the water away. “Yeah?”

  Slowly, his hands come up to cup my face as he lowers his forehead to mine. He’s naked and I’m the next thing to it, our bodies just a few inches apart. Though our conversation isn’t conducive to romance, it occurs to me that physical comfort can take more than one form.

  “I’m still not ready,” I whisper. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

  He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Just let me hold you.” His hands brush a few wayward strands that broke free of my braid away from my face.

  He’s frowning, though I don’t think it has anything to do with my hair. His lips part, but before he can speak, his eyes go wide and he points at something behind me. “Nic, look out!”

  I turn and spot the rush of water barreling down the cliff in our direction. It overflows the small bank of the stream, a river charging in, taking over, Aiden lunges for me and I make one step toward the bank but then it’s there, knocking us off our feet and dragging me beneath the icy water.