caves?
“She said Gorm didn’t trust anyone but her and Sune. He must have sent her to my cell to retrieve the ring. That’s what I was sent to steal, wasn’t it? That’s the key to freeing the Night Elves. It will help lead us to the sorcerer I need to kill. How would you know that?”
He gave an easy shrug. And now it’s at the bottom of the Well of Wyrd. What do you think your Lords will do to you when they find out you have completely failed to get what they wanted?
“They’ll understand it’s not the first time I’ve messed up an assignment.” But that was a lie. The Shadow Lords would send me to hard labor in the Mines of Kolar. And worst of all, the Night Elves would remain imprisoned underground if I didn’t complete my task.
You and I both know this wasn’t a normal assignment. That the Shadow Lords would throw you in prison.
I had no idea how Marroc knew so much, but he was right. The Lords had been very specific that this one was crucial to the cause. That my life depended on it. I hoped Barthol had been managing to evade them.
“All right. So I’m low on options.”
Marroc moved to sit next to me on the couch. He held his notebook in his lap so I could watch him as he wrote. I can help you get the ring you were tasked to retrieve. But you must promise to help me with my task.
“What is it exactly that you need to do?”
I want to get rid of this curse. To become alive again.
I pretended to think it over, though obviously I didn’t have a choice. Getting the ring was the only way to save my people.
“What’s your plan?” I asked. Dread already slid through me.
Because pretty as he was, he was insane, and I already knew his plan would be absolutely bonkers.
And that I would probably agree, because so was I.
Chapter 19
Marroc
I wrote in my notebook, wondering if she’d think I was crazy. We travel to the bottom of the Well of Wyrd, we retrieve the ring, then you help me steal the Levateinn.
Ali stared at me with an expression that suggested she definitely thought I was insane. “That’s impossible,” she said slowly.
No, it’s not, I wrote, grateful that a defensive tone couldn’t come across in writing. But why would I have suggested it if it were impossible?
“Levateinn? Loki’s wand?” she asked. “It’s definitely impossible. For one thing, it probably doesn’t exist. For another, if it did, it’s supposedly guarded by the goddess Sinmara and stored in a box with nine locks.”
And you are a thief, I wrote. Which is why you’re here. That last part wasn’t exactly the whole story.
“I was raised on the stories of the gods, just like every other Night Elf. But the gods are gone. Thor, Odin, Freya, Loki—they’ve been dead a thousand years. Ragnarok happened, we live in the frozen ashes of the world, and everything is fucked.”
If gods are dead, I wrote, Sinmara won’t be guarding Levateinn any longer.
“But where would we even find it?” she asked, sounding exasperated.
I know where to find it.
She stared at me, unmoving. I hadn’t ever spent this much time around a Night Elf, but it seemed she had a way of going very still sometimes, like the night itself. Then, at last, she spoke again. “Where?”
My pen spilled across the page. At the bottom of the world. The great dragon Nidhogg has it. You said you were the Shadow Lords’ chief assassin, head of thieves, hider of bodies. You and I both know you’re perfectly suited to help me retrieve it.
I leaned back, sipping my scotch, and waited for her to answer.
Of course, her criminal predilections weren’t the only reason I wanted her to help me. I wanted her with me. I needed to guard her, keep her safe. She had my soul, and she was my mate. The High Elves would be searching the city; if they found her, she’d be dead before night fell again.
She leaned back, drumming her fingertips on the armrest, silver eyes gleaming. “You have magic. Can you get a message out?”
Who? I wrote.
“He’s in Night Elf territory. His name is Barthol.”
I shook my head, a strange heat permeating my chest. There was that name again. Who the fuck was Barthol? A lover? A husband, perhaps?
My face was a mask of composure, eyes sparkling with calm. Inwardly, I seethed. And here I’d always thought