Leave me to my work, woman.
She bit her tongue to keep from responding as he threw up one arm. The creature jerked back, letting out a low hiss, the gray coloring darkening to almost black. In a single blink, Émilien’s arm snapped out, and his large paw encircled the creature’s throat. He sat up and stared at the creature with a narrowed gaze.
“Is this how you thank me for not killing you on sight, smár vargr?” Calling the creature a little wolf seemed to help, because fur once more covered its bulbous body. “You can do it, little one, fight it. Your spirit is strong—stronger than the demon inside you. I know that fight. Your blood burns day and night, and there are times when you just want to give in to the pain. I have fought against the pain for thousands of years and know you can win.”
Dangling in Émilien’s tight grip, the creature’s body twitched. A small tail appeared and seemed to grow, fur sprouting from its tip. Letting out a high-pitched screech that almost shredded her ears, one claw elongated and stabbed Émilien’s forearm.
Hel jerked upright and muttered the ancient words to a sleep spell, then waited the few seconds needed to take effect. With one final twitch, its body fell limp as she sent the pup into stasis. Grumbling under her breath, she crawled toward them as Émilien laid the pup’s small body back into its makeshift bed. He fell back to the ground and closed his eyes.
“What did you do?” he asked in a tired voice.
“Nothing bad. I sent him into stasis so it can’t hurt you—or me. I rarely use it, but there are a few souls who arrive in Helheimr with—issues.” She knelt beside him and reached for his arm. Cradling the limb to her, she laid her palm over the injection site and sent her magic inside the wound, cleansing the area as best she could. Her healing magic had never been strong, but she practiced over the long eons to perfect it—and to not accept anything less than that perfection.
Closing her eyes, she searched inside the oozing site with her mind and came to a barrier. A garish yellow slime coated the bottom of the puncture. The blob undulated then doubled, filling more of the space like dividing cells.
“Well, that can’t be good.” She stared at the barrier and frowned, willing the substance away. It didn’t budge. “What in the hell did that infernal pup inject you with?”
Émilien exhaled, lowering his other arm and meeting her gaze. “More than likely, some kind of poison. Time will tell.”
“How can you be so calm about this?”
“Life is what you make of it, my sweet. I haven’t had much to live for in a very long time. Now that our daughter is old enough to take care of herself, my job is done. I can rest.”
11
Émilien’s last statement sent shards of ice piercing through her heart. Leaning forward, she held his black gaze with her own. “I don’t ever want to hear those words leaving your mouth again. You are going to fight this because our daughter isnotold enough to be on her own. Besides, you have too many enemies as do I, and any one of them can get to us through her, so suck it up and help me figure out what that damned pup injected into you.”
“Your bedside manner needs work, my sweet, but it’s a start.” He sat up, his large body weaving back and forth. “I don’t feel well.”
“If you’ve been poisoned, I should think not. Has this ever happened to you before?”
He gave her a droll glare before laying back down. “No, not that I can recall...” his voice trailed off.
“What is it?” She resisted the urge to reach out and hold his paw, not sure how he would react. After all, when she didn’t feel well, the last thing she wanted was someone hovering and touching her. Baldr knew to leave her in bed in her darkened room, alone and quiet. He never bothered her or asked her if she needed anything. Of course, if she did, all she had to do was say his name aloud, and he would appear. Quite handy, that. Why it was, she had no clue. It probably had something to do with his being dead and she, his queen.
“Okay, Émilien, what was the creature the pup turned into?”
He took several minutes to answer, and she was beginning to think he had fallen asleep. “Not completely certain, but I believe it was a demon. Either a young demon or a minor one, like an imp. Either way, it isn’t good.”
She didn’t like how raspy his voice had become, like he was sucking air with each word, instead of the normal tumbling of rocks in his chest it sounded like. “Why do you say that?”
“Know anything about scorpions?”
She frowned. “No, and I don’t care to.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you there. They creep me out as well. Anyway, if you’re stung by an adult, it’ll hurt and you will have a reaction, but it’s the baby’s venom that is fatal. Imps are the same way. They have had to evolve something specific to them as weapons just to survive. The demon hierarchy isn’t easy. Actually, they’re all deadly.” His eyes closed as he chuckled. “How about we just stay away from them altogether?”
The pull to touch him was stronger than ever, and she couldn’t stop her hand from caressing the thick fur covering his forearm. His muscle trembled under her palm, but she was too afraid to say anything. Instead, she listened to his shallow breathing, not knowing how to help him. The thought of his death was like a vice around her heart, and she struggled to breathe. She had wasted so much time...
Blowing out quick breath, she pulled back her hand and dropped her face onto her palms, silently weeping, letting out the overwhelming emotions threatening to cleave her in two. Could she be any more pathetic? Her fear of her father had driven her into making the wrong decision. She should never have pushed away her family and would forever regret it. She wouldn’t blame him or their daughter if they never forgave her—she couldn’t forgive herself.
Swiping away the tears on her face, she exhaled and inhaled slowly, desperately trying to retrieve a tiny bit of calm. She had to figure out how to save Émilien. Using thousands of years of practice, she bottled up the fear and pain to find the utter cold usually encasing her heart and mind. She needed the calmness now more than ever if she was going to find an answer on how to reverse the poison.
If that’s even what was injected.
Staring at the dying fire, an idea formed. Counting, she figured the years they had gone back in time and realized they did have help—at least if she could reach out to Baldr from here, they did. Closing her eyes, she focused on home, picturing her castle and the throne room on its revolving dais, and the panoramic view of Helheimr’s horizon on the other side of the window.
Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned her head to see a wondrous sight. Baldr walked toward the window, sipping mead from his favorite goblet. A light shimmered, casting a golden glow over its smooth, obsidian surface as he raised it to his lips.