by S. T. Bende
“This is wonderful,” Idris murmured approvingly. “Are these . . . citrus varietals?”
“Alfheimian specialty,” I confirmed. “They grow during the first weeks of summer—since it’s my first here, I’ve only just discovered them.”
“That’s right. I was told that you were raised off-realm.” Idris raised her fork again, then chewed thoughtfully. “That must have been an adjustment.”
“We both did.” I placed my hand atop Viggo’s. “When we were young, Svartalfheim attempted to eliminate our generation of leadership. Those of us who were born into key governing roles were sent to live off-realm to ensure Alfheim had someone to look out for it after . . . well, after them.”
Idris followed my gaze to Constance and Narrik.
“And to answer what I’m sure you’re wondering, no.” Viggo chuckled. “Our generation doesn’t intend to follow their policies at all.”
“Gods, I’d hope not.” Idris shuddered. “If the rumors are true, we’re going to need Alfheim’s light more than ever.”
My hand tensed around Viggo’s. “What do you mean?”
Idris’s eyes shifted from left to right, but she kept a congenial smile on her face. “I’m sure you know, it is to your benefit to form relationships with everyone within your administration. Even those who may seem insignificant.”
“Um . . .” I glanced at Viggo. Where was she going with this?
“You didn’t hear this from me.” Idris maintained her pleasant grin. “But it came to my attention that a few weeks ago, members of our household staff were approached by an outsider wanting access to the palace.”
My brows shot to my hairline. “What?”
“Neutral face,” Idris said calmly.
I quickly schooled my expression into the one I used in Professor Asling’s meditation class. “What?” I asked again, this time sanguinely.
“Our staff is extremely loyal—none of them would ever betray us,” Idris said through a smile. “But I’m not certain the same could be said of yours.”
Her eyes darted to Narrik, and it took everything I had not to snort.
“Oh, he’d betray us every which way till Tuesday if he thought it would benefit him,” I said confidently. “But I don’t understand. Who came to your staff? And why did they want access to your palace?”
“I don’t know. Those involved in the incidents have no recollection of who approached them, or what the individual’s motives were. It appears their memories were altered by whomever contacted them.”
It was a struggle to keep my emotions off my face. “Who could even do that?”
“A dark energy warrior,” Viggo said quietly.
I whipped my head around to stare at him. “Like Dragen?”
“Or someone similar.”
“Dragen.” Idris bit her bottom lip. “Is he the dark elf who attacked Alfheim?”
“One and the same,” Viggo confirmed. “But we incarcerated him months ago.”
Actually, we’d trapped him in Hel’s inner chamber, which seemed fitting for a guy who’d intended to suck out my soul. Jeez.
“Didn’t you say that your staff were approached more recently than that?” I asked.
“Last month,” Idris confirmed. “Narissia, my advisor, saw one of our ladies-in-waiting speaking to something that resembled a shadow. She reported it immediately, of course, but no wrongdoing was found. No Vanaheimian would ever compromise our realm. But it was most peculiar the way the woman had absolutely no recollection of being asked to do anything. In fact, she couldn’t remember conversing with anyone at all.”
“Definitely sounds like the work of an energy warrior.” Viggo frowned. “If it wasn’t Dragen, it must have been someone with his skill set.”
“Do you think Svartalfheim’s planning an attack on Vanaheim?” I asked quietly.
“They wouldn’t succeed.” Idris flicked her white-blond hair over one shoulder. “Our warriors have never allowed a breach.”
“True,” Viggo agreed. “And everyone knows it. Which means Vanaheim can’t have been the target—you must have been a stop along the way.”
Idris’s eyes widened. “To where?”
“No idea.” Viggo shrugged. “But if a dark warrior wanted access to your realm, even just as a stopover, it can’t have been a good thing. Keep an ear to the ground, and let us know if anything else happens. I’m assuming your warriors increased security?”
“Tenfold,” Idris confirmed. “The palace has been on lockdown ever since—and I’m not allowed to go anywhere without my guards.”
Idris jutted her head at the broad-shouldered men standing discreetly against the wall behind us. Even beneath their jackets, their muscles appeared so massive, they looked like they could easily stop a fire giant . . . or five.
“I’m surprised your security isn’t more substantial, Aura, considering the threat you faced not long ago.” Idris took another bite of her salad.
“Things are pretty tight at the academy. And I do have a Protektor.” I nodded at Signy, who was seated with Larkin a few places away. “Plus, I’m in a combat discipline, so . . .”
“Aura can defend herself. And when she can’t, she has me.” Viggo shrugged. “I’m a much stronger Verge than she is.”
“You wish. I completely destroyed you in our final.”
“You barely beat me,” he corrected. “And I out-performed you in strength.”
“Who’s stuck with cleaning duty?” I challenged.
“Who’s going down next term?” He arched his brow.
“I’m lost,” Idris interjected. “What exactly are you two to each other? Is Viggo your bodyguard?”
“She should be so lucky.” Viggo’s laugh earned him a swift elbow to the ribcage. “Ow!”
“We’ve got the same job,” I corrected.
“You’re both the crown princess?” Idris’ twinkling laughter bounced off the high ceiling.
“The other job,” I amended. “We’re both Verge Keys. We’re supposed to protect Alfheim from large-scale threats.”
“Wow.” Idris sounded impressed. “Your government lets its princess protect the realm? I can’t even go out to eat without Lars and Nars over there.”
“Are those their real names?” I giggled.
“I have no idea. They swap out personnel every three days. My parents are afraid if someone sticks around too long, whoever bribed the staff will try to get to them, too.” Idris sighed.
“Well, if you ever need a break, you’re always welcome here,” I offered. “The academy’s clearing out for the summer, so we’ll have plenty of extra space at the school. Feel free to come any time—with or without your guards.”
“I may just take you up on that.” Idris smiled. “In the meantime, looks as if the second course is here. Ooh, is that roasted terrista?”
I glanced at the gilded plate being swapped for my now-empty one. Sure enough, the queen’s favorite meat dish had replaced my salad. Once the waitstaff had retreated, I leaned over to whisper in Viggo’s ear, “We have to figure out who bribed Vanaheim.”
“We’ll put it on our list,” he said easily.
I lifted my knife with a frown. Our litany of to-dos felt endless. But we’d earned Idris’s trust, and learned we weren’t the only realm whose security was being tested.
We had to figure out if Vanaheim’s threat was somehow related to ours.
Chapter 7
AFTER DINNER, VIGGO, IDRIS, and I ditched the dancing and took our dessert to the drawing room. When the conversation turned to our respective upbringings, Idris, who’d spent the entirety of her childhood on Vanaheim, marveled at the fact that we’d been allowed to live off-realm. She was equal parts fascinated and horrified by Viggo’s stories of Svartalfheim, and was so enthralled with my description of Midgard’s comic book shops and movie theatres that she decided to make a trip of her own . . . as soon as she could figure out how to ditch Lars and Nars.
All things considered, the evening was a glowing success. Alfheim
reestablished its relationship with Vanaheim, Idris promised to help me and Viggo learn to restore our realm—assuming the government let us do anything at all—and we’d gained a new ally. Plus, Fyrs Narrik had gone home early, complaining of a stomach illness.
Sometimes life was just too good.
The next morning, exhaustion clouded my vision. My head pulsed as I wrenched my wings into my tank top, my equilibrium adversely affected by not nearly enough sleep and way more than enough cake. By the time Viggo knocked on my door, I was seriously regretting the fact that I hadn’t turned in earlier. Diplomacy was important, sure. But I had my cabinet meeting in a few hours. And I could barely hold my head up.
“Morning, Glitre.” Viggo called. “You awake?”
“Barely,” I muttered. I yanked the door open to find my boyfriend looking perfect, as always. Inky waves of hair framed his un-exhausted face, and his wings fluttered easily behind his pristine black workout clothes. “How are you so perky?”
“Caffeine.” He raised his arms, revealing a takeaway cup in each. “Left one’s coffee, right one’s cocoa. Pick your poison.”
My hand snaked out to snatch the cocoa-bearing container. “Mmm. Sugar.”
“Didn’t you get enough of that last night?” Viggo arched one brow.
“This is a judgment-free zone.” I turned my back and took a long drag. A river of chocolatey goodness traipsed its way down my throat, and I groaned. “Much better.”
“You’re the one who wanted to work out at zero-dark-thirty on the first day of summer.” Viggo tilted his head to one shoulder, eliciting a crack. “If you’d rather get more sleep, I wholeheartedly support that.”
“No. I need to be game ready for my two o’clock, and beating up on you really zens me out.”
“Aren’t I the lucky one,” Viggo said drily.
“Mmm-hmm.” I threw down the rest of the cocoa, and tossed the cup into the silver trash bin by my desk. “Let’s go.”
“Forgetting something?” Viggo eyed my still-bare feet.
“Right. Shoes.” I darted to my wardrobe before quickly lacing myself into combat boots and meeting Viggo at the door. “What are you waiting for?”
“Last one to the training center has to clean the equipment.”
“What? No. You lost in our final, and under those terms you’re on cleaning duty for the both of us. Remember?”
“Mmm. Those two weeks start when school comes back. Today’s fair game. And not to disappoint you, but I’m closer to the stairs than you are.” Viggo’s emerald eyes twinkled.
“Oh. It’s on.” I charged across the room, barreling past Viggo and launching myself along the hallway. Footsteps pounded close behind me, and when I reached the quad I stretched out my wings and leapt in the air. No way was I letting my boyfriend beat me. I hated cleaning even more than I hated politics. And since I’d be stuck doing the latter for the rest of the day, losing was not an option.
It never was.
At two o’clock, Signy, Larkin, Constance, and I stood in the private hallway of the senate building. At my urging, the queen had agreed to join me for my meeting. I wanted the meadow elves to know we took their grievance seriously . . . even if it had taken us forever to actually respond to them.
“You ready?” Signy brushed something off the arm of my fitted grey suit. Vendya had brought it to my dorm while I’d been kicking Viggo’s butt in the training center.
“I rarely am.” I shrugged. “But we’ll give it our best, right?”
“Just remember, whatever the cabinet does, don’t take their bait,” Signy warned. “They’ve worked against our administration since you signed on, and they’d love nothing more than for you to lose your cool in front of our guests.”
“I won’t give them the pleasure.” I raised my chin and pulled my shoulder blades down, in a perfect imitation of my grandmother’s posture.
“That’s my girl.” Signy squeezed my bicep as a chime rang from the other side of the chamber’s shiny, wooden door.
“All rise for the regents. The right honorable Queen Constance and Crown Princess Aura are hereby presiding over this gathering of the senior members of our cabinet. This meeting of Alfheim’s most reverent governing bodies is now called to order.”
The doors parted, allowing me my first glimpse of the cabinet room. A long, wooden table hosted two flower-laden female elves on one side, and four stern-faced cabinet members on the other. I deliberately avoided their hate-filled glares, keeping my eyes on the man I could only assume was Alfheim’s version of the town crier as he raised a futuristic-looking horn to his lips and blew. A twinkling scale resonated through the chamber, giving me time to admire his long, plum-colored coat with matching knee-length pants and a billowy white collar.
The meadow elves and cabinet members stood, turning to face me and the queen. I kept my gaze forward as I followed Constance along the aisle to take my seat on one of the two thrones—actual, legit thrones—that stood at the head of the table. The normal-sized chair to Constance’s right must have belonged to Minister Narrik. He stood in front of it, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed into slits. I was pretty sure that if he squeezed his white-knuckled fists any tighter, he might very well crack his own bones.
Smile, Aura. It’ll all be over in an hour.
I glanced behind me, soaking in Signy’s reassuring glance. She and Larkin had come along for moral support, or protection—or both—and the two of them stood at the door, lending their benevolent presences to the sea of outright hostility. Now they each offered a slight nod. I tried to take solace in the knowledge that at least two people in the room didn’t loathe me.
Or want me to disappear, too.
The four cabinet members shot me lethal looks as I trod carefully along the velvet carpet. This room full of jerks would love to see me fall flat on my face. Literally, or figuratively.
Not today, haters.
Constance reached her throne first, and I waited until she sat to follow suit. I didn’t want to put a foot out of place.
The crier lowered his horn. “Adryos Nambryr, our minister of culture, will officially call this meeting to order.”
The short, rotund woman standing in front of the chair next to Narrik’s cleared her throat. As she did, she shot me a glare so intense I had no doubt that she was firmly Team Narrik. I silently thanked the gods that the academy was a closed facility—no doubt Minister Angry Face, or one of her colleagues, would have killed me in my sleep. No wonder the queen had bodyguards.
“Velkommen, esteemed cabinet members, senators, and . . .” Nambryr’s lips curled in a sneer. “. . . regents.”
I leaned over to whisper in Constance’s ear, “She’s not that into us, is she?”
“Shh,” my grandmother admonished.
“This meeting of the senior members of the royal cabinet is hereby called to order. Remain standing for our opening convocation.” Nambryr shot one last glare at the thrones before raising her hands to the sky and closing her eyes. She let loose with a song that, while unfamiliar, wasn’t altogether unpleasant. It was a prayer to Frigga about blessing our realm, our minds, and the true purpose of Alfheim so she might shine in all her glory evermore.
Its altruism was rendered moot by the disgusted look Nambryr shot me as she plopped back into her seat.
Sigh.
“Now that the formalities have been taken care of, we can begin.” Narrik lowered himself into his own seat. He glanced at the paper on the table in front of him. “Madame Sunflower and Madame Poppyseed, is it? It appears the two of you are displeased with your region’s . . . weather?”
“Our displeasure is with the long-term effects of your senseless arson.” One of the meadow elves narrowed her eyes.
“My, my. That’s a serious accusation.” Narrik’s voice didn’t lose its cool edge.
“It is well-known around the Meina region that you ordered the fire that ravaged the town. And because of that fire, our homelands have fallen into disrepair. Our fields
no longer produce flora, our fauna have fled for lack of resources, and our residents have neither food to eat nor functions to perform. We cannot channel the flower spirits if all of the flowers have died.”
Right.
I leaned forward. “Are you telling me that none of your crops can grow anymore? And your protein sources have migrated away from your colony?”
“That is correct, Crown Princess.” The older elf, whose curly, white hair was tied in flowers, bowed her head. “We have subsisted largely on the grains we were able to store before the fire. But if things remain as they are, we’ll be forced to find another home.”
“So, you move,” Narrik said coldly. “You’ll hardly be the first to do so.”
“But they shouldn’t have to.” I examined the paper directly in front of me. “According to this, you’ve lodged five separate requests for meetings—the first dating back to seven days after the fire.”
“Yes.” The younger elf’s brown curls bounced. “The ash from Meina was so thick, we lived in perpetual night. It was weeks before we saw sunlight again, and by that time the first of our fields had gone barren.”
“You had notice of this issue?” I stared Narrik down. “And you did nothing?”
“The realm had far more pressing matters.” Narrik examined his cuticles.
“More pressing than the death of an ecosystem?” I blurted.
“It was one field, Aura,” he sneered.
“One field led to an entire region. And you’ll refer to me as your regent, Narrik.”
The minister only scoffed.
I squared my shoulders to the meadow elves. “On behalf of the regency, this cabinet, and the entire government of Alfheim, I am sorry for our inaction, and for your loss. You have my deepest sympathy for the damage that’s been ignored, along with my vow to do everything in my power to help right this wrong. We’ll be launching a full investigation into the causes and possible remedies for restoring your region to proper health. And until that resolution is found, this government will assist with your colony’s temporary relocation expenses.”
The younger woman’s eyes misted over. “We can’t tell you what that means to us.”
