thought liches were always former humans. So, what were you?”
Ice chilled my veins. I’d hoped to avoid this conversation. Elf.
Her entire body went tense. “What kind of elf?”
A High Elf.
“What? I didn’t even know elves could become liches. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
She stepped closer. Her fingers twitched like she was thinking about calling forth that magical knife of hers.
“The High Elves have imprisoned the Dokkalfar for a thousand years. Ever since Ragnarok, we’ve been trapped in caves underground. I didn’t see the horizon or the sunlight until I was sent on this mission to retrieve the gold ring. So, who were you, Marroc? I already know you’re old as Helheim. You were around then, weren’t you? You were alive when the High Elves sent the Night Elves into the caves, locking us underground.”
Dread crept over me slowly like an afternoon shadow. She was getting too close to learning the truth. For the first time in the past thousand years, I was grateful I couldn’t speak.
I only shrugged, and I could feel her fury rising. The hatred in her eyes burned so sharp and bright that I wondered what horrors she’d experienced under the ground. A shard of sadness split me open.
She took another step closer, eyes sharp and narrow, and poked me in the chest. “I told you I’d do anything I could to protect my people. My whole life, I’ve had nothing to keep me warm but my family, and my dreams of revenge. So, I have some questions for you, Marroc. I want to know who you knew, exactly. Before Ragnarok.”
Gods, she was breathtaking. The sheer audacity to give commands to an ancient lich, to launch into an interrogation…
She jabbed my chest again. “Do you know where I’d find Galin? The sorcerer who imprisoned us? He worked for the king.”
Darkness clouded my mind.
She folded her arms imperiously. “Suddenly can’t find your pen and paper?”
Now, she hardly trusted me at all. That was good. Because if I lost control around her, my world would end.
But her interrogation was interrupted by the sound of footfalls, and I turned. The Emperor and a pair of guards stood in the doorway, their eyes fixed on Ali.
“Once you are ready,” said the Emperor, his voice husky, “we will leave for dinner.”
Chapter 28
Ali
Night had fallen, and Marroc and I walked together through a primeval forest. The trunks of ancient pines stood around us, like the columns of a cathedral, while above us the tree’s canopy was so thick that it blocked out the sky. The air was damp and heavy, fragrant with the scent of the pine trees. A perfumed wind kissed my skin.
I stole a glance at him. Once a High Elf, was he? As soon as we got away from these guards, I wanted to know everything he knew.
My mind whirred with the tasks ahead of me. First, we’d get Loki’s wand so we could return to Midgard—and he could get his soul back, supposedly. Then I’d take the golden ring back to the Shadow Lords. With their help, I’d free my people.
I’d always believed my mother, and soon, I’d finally prove her right.
All I had to do was help kill the dark wizard who’d locked us in there. And if Marroc was right, the ring in my pocket was just what I needed to find the sorcerer. He was the one who’d imprisoned the Night Elves in the Shadow Caverns after Ragnarok. Only his death would free us.
I stole a glance at Marroc. What I really wanted was to question him about where to find the dark sorcerer, but I couldn’t do it with other people around.
After living underground so long, after watching my friends and family die in subterranean darkness, I wanted nothing more than to drive my blade through Galin’s throat, but I’d have to be patient.
Under the ancient pine trees, we were led by a pair of guards, who carried torches that cast shadows over the mossy forest floor. It was quiet but for the whisper of a breeze circling between the trunks. All around us, tiny lights flickered between the boughs and branches.
Despite my dreams of revenge, I couldn’t help but smile. This was the first time I’d ever seen fireflies. For a few minutes, I forgot about Skalei slicing open the throats of the High Elves.
And now that Marroc had reassured me about Barthol, I could actually enjoy this beauty a little before we returned to Midgard.
Despite my blood-soaked revenge fantasies, things were