probably burn these clothes.”
“I suppose I could tell you where to find new ones.” His deep, velvety voice wrapped around me.
With the adrenaline leaving my body, it was like all the exhaustion had returned to me at once. “Yes, thanks. I’d rather not walk around naked.”
“Shame. Anyway, you’ll find some in the wardrobe of the room you first stayed in.” He pointed toward the kitchen. “But as they are my old clothes, they’re unlikely to fit you properly.”
“I’ll make it work.”
He nodded, still looking like he was going to be sick from his wound. That was worrying. He usually recovered so quickly.
I rose and headed for the kitchen. It seemed like ages since I’d first been here, investigating the human contraptions. My gaze snagged on the blender. What I really wanted, before I slaughtered my ancient enemy, was a smoothie…
I crossed to the stairwell, taking deep breaths of the clean air in Marroc’s home. Never again would I take fresh air for granted. Or not being in the bowel of a monster. These were all things to be grateful for.
In the bedroom, I opened the wardrobe and picked out one of Marroc’s sweaters—a thin sort of wool that would function as a dress on me. Good enough.
I carried it with me into the bathroom, the white marble floors inviting. I could really get used to a place like this.
I started filling the tub with hot water. I’d want it as hot as possible. Steam rose from the tub, and I peeled off my clothes, tossing them on the floor. Well, not quite. Marroc didn’t have any replacement bras or underwear, so I filled the sink with soap and hot water and washed them until they were clean.
Then I stepped into the marble tub, nearly moaning with pleasure at the deliciously hot water. With a bar of soap in my hands, I started scrubbing hard. My hands, my legs and feet. I dunked my head under the water and washed my hair. I scrubbed every inch of myself, then rinsed it in the hot water.
My skin had gone pink in the bath, and exhaustion burned through my muscles. I sighed with relief.
We’d actually succeeded, hadn’t we? At least, as long as Marroc was telling the truth. As long as he could raise Galin for me to torture until I got the answers I needed.
My muscles burned with fatigue, but I forced myself out of the tub, rivulets of water dripping down my body. I toweled off, drying my hair. My bra and underwear were slightly damp, but it couldn’t be helped. Lastly, I slid into the soft sweater. It skimmed over my hips, down my thighs and to my knees.
I shoved the vergr stone into my bra and slid the golden ring onto my remaining ring finger.
Clearly, I didn’t need it anymore, but I’d never had anything that pretty before.
Freshly cleaned, I hurried back down to the living room, to the warmth of the hearth. Marroc sat in one of his chairs, wearing a new outfit—his damp hair hung over a crisp white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He clutched Loki’s gleaming silver wand.
But something wasn’t right with him. He was usually so stoic, but I could see the pain etched on his features.
“You’re not okay,” I said.
“It’s Nidhogg’s venom. Apparently the one thing I can’t heal from.”
I sat across from him in a soft armchair. “And Loki’s wand? That can’t heal it?”
“No, I’m afraid not. And if I return my soul to myself in this condition, I’d die quickly.”
A little bit of panic rose in me. He couldn’t die—then I’d never get to Galin. “What heals a lich? Blood?”
He gave me a wary look. “Technically the soul, or magic drunk through blood. But I’m not drinking your blood.”
“Would it work?”
“Yes, it would work.” He spoke in a deep, soft voice. “But I could lose control and drain you completely.”
I stood. “Look, Marroc. I have waited my whole life to avenge the Night Elves. I have no other purpose than to free them. And I need you to bring Galin back to life, and you can’t do that if you’re dead. So, you need to drink a little bit of my blood and master control of yourself. And then we need to finish this. Okay?”
Unsure what to do, I thrust my wrist out before him and pulled up the long sleeve of my sweater dress. I wasn’t about to offer up my neck, because that seemed, frankly, terrifying.
I