“No,” he whispered. “Ailsa, no.” He shut his eyes and willed her image away, hoping it was anyone else. Hoping it was anyone except hisFraendicircling lower now toward the tip of the landing. But even with his eyes closed, he felt her. Her presence was now like the very breath in his chest, a natural need that was unbearable to endure when it was taken away. So familiar, she was now an extension of himself, another half to render him incomplete when she wasn’t there.
The beast landed at the end of the strip of granite, and Ailsa dismounted in a storm of gilded gossamer, her gown flowing behind her as the valley wind inhaled her skirts. They whipped in a graceful dance behind her, her hair swept away from the sharp angles of her exquisitely crafted face, only blemished by a trail of blood sourced from her temple. The runes dipping down her neck, between her breast, and disappearing beneath the silk burned orange with a fiery rage. She looked like a goddess, held herself like a queen, and the quiet anger activating the glowing runes was hardly the most dangerous thing about hisFraendi. It was the look in her eyes that never showed a flicker of fear, even as she met the stare of the most dangerous demigod in the Nine Realms.
“Vali!” Her gaze finally found him, and her stoic expression fell apart with heartbreak. “Sólskin… What have you done to him?”
“Broke a few bones so he couldn’t run. Drained his blood so he couldn’t heal. He will be fine as long as you cooperate,” Nerissa said, her voice moving as she stepped around the pit.
“Who are you?” Ailsa hissed.
“Me?” Nerissa stepped in front of him now, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’m the girl who stole his heart. I’m sure you’ve heard lots about me.”
“Not really.” Ailsa’s voice was bittersweet. “Where is Ivor? And who are all you people?”
The wolves stalked from the darkened places of the terrace. Their stormy coats bristled with a sensed threat. Ivor slipped between them, her chin high and hands relaxed at her side. Ailsa unsheathed the blade at her thigh.
“Hello,systir,” Ivor spoke first.
Ailsa only bared her teeth at the wolf. “You are not my sister. My family wouldn’t betray me in such a way as you have.”
“Your father lied to you and forced you into marrying a swine, uncaring if you died early as long as you kept his family line revered. I amhelpingyou—"
“You’re helping yourself,” Vali hissed behind her. Ivor spun her head over her shoulder to glare at him. “Tell her Ivor. Tell her the real reason you went to her all those years ago in the Aelderwood, how you’ve been leading her into a den of wolves this entire time. Remind us all who you really serve.”
The wolven shrugged. “I am not ashamed I protected Ailsa her entire life until she received the Tether. Nor will I apologize for not letting her fall into Odin’s hands. If Odin gets his hands on Gullveig’s power, he will be able to free the only god who can kill—”
A low growl interrupted Ivor, and the wolven balked to the side, aware of her mistake. “Great One, I apologize, I did not mean to—”
His growl lowered from a warning to a threat, and Ivor fell quiet. The half-god stepped around the pulpit and into view, Ailsa’s eyes tearing from the wolven to the Great Wolf himself. Her grip on the useless dagger tightened with the slight twitch of her fingers. “Who are you?” she asked. Her voice solid and steady, though Vali sensed her fear through their bond. When she was this close, he found he could sense everything she experienced.
Fenrir’s breath was heavy. He watched her thrust the blade outward as he stepped closer. “You know who I am, Ailsa. Especially considering you hold the key to my undoing.”
Ailsa only swallowed and lifted the dagger a little higher as she said, “Fenrir.”
The Great Wolf nodded. Witches and wolves stepped aside, pressing their backs against the obsidian railing to give whatever was about to happen some space. Vali squirmed against his bindings, but his strength was gone, left somewhere back in his holding chamber.
“Well, if you wanted me dead you would have killed one of us by now. What do you want with Vali?” she asked.
Fenrir rolled his bare shoulders back, bearing his chest to appear even larger than he already was. “You are right, I do not want you dead. Ivor has told me of your curse and the witches have foreseen your last hours. Your end is near, Ailsa. Which is why it is imperative we bind this power to you before you die, so the power is not lost again.”
“And if I refuse?”
Fenrir shook his head. “You will not refuse. Because I am going to keep your mate in the same chains his father bound me with, and I will not set him free until we have successfully destroyed Odin and the rest of the gods. Then you can have him back.”
Ailsa’s eyes rolled with the flutter of her lashes. “I am so tired of being threatened into taking this power. I’d rather die than be used to destroy realms. Don’t you realize I was prepared to die before this? The best part of being cursed is learning how to accept death, not fear it.”
Fenrir threw his head back with a laugh that echoed across the valley. He glanced at Nerissa, who was standing off to the side, and nodded. “I believe I can make you fear death, Ailsa.”
Vali could only watch with dread as the flames sparked the wood beneath him, time slowed into crystal clear still frames like he was a spectator to his own execution. The hiss of ravenous flames drowned away the sound of hisFraendi’sscream.
The flames swallowed him like they had been starved for a century. Ailsa’s heart stalled in her chest as he burned, his bloody clothes catching fire first and forcing a strangled scream from his lips. The sound split through the night, tore the earth with its pain, etched itself forever in her memory. Ailsa knew she’d never forget it as long as she lived.
Her breath heaved as she tried to call his name, catching on the rawness in her throat until she choked. She smelled the smoke, thick and heavy in her own chest, the heat in her toes creeping up her legs. He was the one burning, but she would go down with him all the same.
“Please,” she begged Nerissa. Something shifted inside her, watching him burn. An instinctual urge to protect, a visceral need deeper than her marrow. Whether it was from the rune on her hand or the love in her heart, she realized she couldn’t let him go—she couldn’t let them both die. “Stop this! Don’t do this to him because of me, please!”
Nerissa snatched the wrist still clutching the dagger. “Finish the rune, Ailsa. Save him yourself.”
Ailsa glanced from the dagger to the witch, unsure if she could trust her. Unsure if it even mattered. “You vow this will save him?”