9
Alva walked through the forest, her hand trailing over red- and white petals of the blooming roses stretching out beside her. She couldn’t remember ever walking this path before, but she didn’t care. Anywhere was better than listening to the Huldra council drone on and on about the changes she and her mother had promised. It seemed no one could agree on anything anymore.
A chill descended over her, coating her skin and making the tiny hairs on her body rise. She shivered and crossed her arms, rubbing the goosebumps. The scent of something burning hit her nostrils.
Continuing down the path, she followed it as it curved in the opposite direction. Another waft of warm, smoky air moved across her, heightening her worry. If something was on fire in the forest, it would put everyone and their homes in danger.
She picked up her pace, almost running as the air thickened, the acrid smoke not easy to breathe in, but she forced herself to continue forward. Pulling up the neckline of her shirt, she covered her mouth, the air now a dark gray. The dimness of the sunlight reminded her of early evening, just before the sun completely disappeared and draped everything in shadows.
Squinting as she tried to make out anything that might look familiar, she heard a faint cry up ahead. She hunched over, shallowly breathing into the thin cotton shirt as she ran into a closed gate set between two thick tree trunks. Hearing the cry again, she reached over the top and unlatched the mechanism, letting it swing back and smack the trunk as she hurried through.
“Hello? Is someone here?” she called out, her boots slapping against the pebbled-covered path. She slowed, gingerly moving forward, and strained her ears, listening for the voice, but only hearing her own harsh gasps. The air was so thick it was almost impossible to breathe. The heat, too, was unreal. She now knew what a piece of meat on a spit felt like, and she didn’t like it.
A shrill scream rent the air, startling her, and her body jerked as if she’d been hit. Another piercing shriek galvanized her forward. She dropped her shirt and ran. Not too far in, she doubled over in a coughing fit, wishing for a cooling breeze. No sooner had the thought entered her mind than a gust of fresh air moved over her and pushed the smoke away.
The sight greeting her was horrific. From the hill she stood on, spreading out in front of her was a small glen filled with Huldra houses and smaller storage buildings. Yellow-orange flames danced high into the sky as wood and other flammable materials burned. Everything in the once-beautiful valley was either on fire or already nothing more than charred lumps dotting the ground. Not even the grass and trees had been spared.
“Oh, my gods,” she whispered, her gaze darting around the area as she tried to find the person who had screamed. Knowing the only way to find them in this devastation was to go into the fire, she half walked, half slid down the hillside, the pebbles and dirt making each step treacherous.
Hitting the ground, she tipped forward, her tail lifting in the air behind her and helping her to regain her balance. She launched herself toward the nearest structure. With only the roof ablaze, she darted inside the mud-bricked hut. “Is someone in here?” Other than the crackling flames overhead, silence greeted her, so she ran back outside and headed toward the next small structure, which wasn’t very far away.
Moving from one building to the next, she made her way toward the interior of the circle, where in all Huldra villages, the older and wealthier women lived. These houses weren’t mud and straw, but wood. Only a few were made with actual bricks. As she made her way along the shortening spiral, she was grateful she hadn’t found anyone, but if the villagers had escaped before the fire spread, where was the person who had screamed?
She swiped away the sweat coating her forehead, her unease growing as she ran toward the next home. This time, however, the sight that greeted her was beyond horrifying. Lying side by side in the smoke-filled room were ten Huldra of varying ages. The youngest was nestled in the arms of a young woman, whom Alva assumed was the mother, while the oldest and possible matriarch lay on the far end, her silver-white hair unkempt and covering her face.
She frowned as she slowly walked toward the woman. Something about her form and hair seemed familiar somehow. While she didn’t know many of the Huldra by sight or name, she recognized those who had made the effort to welcome a scared young girl into their fold. Was this one of those who had helped her when she first moved into the castle?
Kneeling next to the Huldra’s plump form, she gently brushed back the hair from the woman’s face and gasped. She knew this serene face, the sightless, green eyes that had once glittered with amusement at Alva’s first attempts at snaring men. They now stared sightlessly at the ceiling. She cradled the wizened face with her palm. “Oh, Gytha, who would do this to you? Why?”
A gentle breeze caressed her face, a touch more like fingers trailing across her sunburned skin and leaving a cooling sensation in their wake. The soothing feeling sharpened, turning into a prickly unease as a sense of foreboding filled her.
Run, my child...run!The soft warning filled her mind as the painful prickling increased. Twisting around on her knees, she crawled along the wooden floor as smoke poured into the room. A harsh laugh sounded nearby, and Alva stopped, not even daring to breathe as the laughter neared the home.
“You cannot hide from us, offspring of Isabel. No matter where you go in the Nine Worlds, we will find you. You will never be one of us and for the queen to listen to you is tantamount to treason in our world. We have lived off the energy of men for eons and you will not change that. Try, and you will have a war on your hands. You say you love your mother, yet here you are, while she is wasting away back at the castle.”
Alva covered her mouth with her hand to keep from responding. It was what these women wanted—for her to give away her location, but she wasn’t about to help them achieve their goal. Her thoughts turned to what they’d just said about her mother. Why was she wasting away when Freyja and Idunn promised to keep her safe? When she left the mountain that morning, her mother had been feeling better, stronger than she had the day before, so what had happened in the few hours since?
“Your mother is dying, whelp. You will not survive either because we cannot have an abomination ruling us. Everyone you love will die if you don’t show yourself.” Her aunt’s harsh tone grated on Alva’s nerves, but she had to believe it was nothing more than a bluff. These women would not kill their own children—
“Alva!” Adriana cried out, her voice filled with fear. Alva closed her eyes, a sick resignation filling her. She could never let anyone hurt her sisters, or anyone else on her account, and knew what she had to do. Rising, she forced her feet to move toward the door. She stopped in the middle of the doorframe and stared in dismay at the group of women in front of her. Her four sisters—Adriana, Lola, Clare, and Ingrid—were surrounded, with the sharp tips of Huldra lances pressing against their necks.
“I have never agreed with my mother for allowing this bitch to live in the castle,” her sister Clare spit out, stepping away from the others. “She is no Huldra and is an embarrassment to us all. I refuse to align myself with her or the queen!” She met the cruel gazes of their aunts, but neither moved nor said anything in response, their dark-green gazes moving back to Alva.
Alva’s gaze met Lola’s, then her youngest sister, Ingrid’s, before returning to Adriana. She blinked away the unshed tears, refusing to let the Huldra see how desperate she was. Freyja, if you ever cared for me, I need your help. She waited a few seconds, but the goddess didn’t answer her, and Alva’s fear escalated. She and her sisters were going to die.
Thank you, my lady, for caring for me and teaching me how to be a good and honorable Huldra. She hoped Freyja heard her and continued to hold her terrified sisters’ gazes, praying for a quick end. Bernard’s face filled her mind’s eye, and she couldn’t help but wish she had acted on her feelings for the handsome human.
Working side by side through the war, she had fallen so deeply in love with him, but he hadn’t even noticed her. When she learned about his family, heard the love he still held for them in every spoken word, she knew her own feelings for this man would remain locked inside her heart, unrealized. At that moment, a part of her had died.
Crouched against the wall next to the door, her body began to rock back and forth. Nothing she did could stop the rolling motion. In the distance, she heard her name being called, the voice familiar, yet not. The acrid stench of the fire faded, and the home’s walls and floor blurred, as if they had turned liquid, the colors swirling together. The more they blended, the lighter they became. Her body jerked one final time and the sensation of falling from a great height almost made her pass out. Just as everything darkened, her eyes popped open, and she sawLilyann’s worried face hovering above hers.
“You gave me such a scare! Don’t ever scream like that again.” The Night Witch fell back against the sofa with a thump. “Sheesh, that was bloodcurdling.”
Alva frowned. “I screamed?”
Lilyann’s eyebrows rose. “Uh, yeah, you sounded like a banshee.”
Alva stared at the God’s Glass, the hammered bronze center showing several scenes from what looked like Midgard. “I don’t remember screaming. I was being hunted...” her voice faded off when she realized what she was watching was decidedly Midgard.