Page 46 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

Shalendra nodded and could have sworn they turned white, their skin almost matching the snow-covered landscape, but they were so pale to begin with, it wasn't easy to tell. “That would mean Loki is your grandfather.”

This time, it wasn’t a question. “Sadly, yes. And before you ask, I had no idea he was here until we landed. It was quite a shock. I know no one whowantsto be related to Loki.” She ignored the breathy grumbling coming from her grandfather’s direction. “But since he is family, I can’t leave him behind, so I guess he comes with us.”

“I will do no such thing! I didn’t escape to be recaptured?—”

Before Loki finished his sentence, Brath held up his hand and blew in the god's direction. A small cloud of blue crystals surrounded her grandfather, and in a single blink, he was covered in ice—a literal peoplecicle. She sucked her lips between her teeth, but the laughter burst out despite her efforts. This was just too good not to enjoy.

Wiping the tears from her streaming eyes, she glanced at Cyran’s pale face. “You would have enjoyed that.” Meeting Brath’s sparkling gaze, she chuckled again. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time, so thank you. Knowing Loki’s reputation, though, I’m amazed you were able to get the jump on him.”

Kubrel waved his hand toward Loki in disgust. “He falls for that every time. I’m beginning to wonder if he has an intelligent brain cell in his head.”

Her smile disappeared, remembering some of the stories her father had told her over the years. “Oh, he does. I think you were able to trap him because of me. I was a total surprise, and he thought to use me.”

“Why would he think that?” Brath asked.

“He said when he was imprisoned here, he was told that someone he should know but doesn't would show up and free him after a grand sacrifice of some kind. And, before you ask, neither of us knows if it’s his or my sacrifice.”

Her shoulders slumped forward as another struck. “I'm so tired of everyone else controlling my life and destiny. Do they believe I can’t take care of myself?” She met the lead warrior’s black gaze. “Do they think I am lacking in intelligence?”

He almost smiled, and she decided to ignore the humor dancing deep in his eyes. “No, little one. Not for one second do I believe that. You are intelligent and, unlike your grandfather, use it without fanfare. You didn’t bat an eyelash when you faced three of the most feared warriors on Jötunheimr and did so, I might add, with courage and respect. I imagine Cyran has only tried to protect you and, in doing so, made you feel inadequate. It is a product of leadership, I’m afraid. Am I right to state you have never fought together?” Shalendra nodded, his words starting to soothe her hurt feelings.

“A leader’s responsibility is to win the battle and protect his soldiers. Males of all races have a darker side, which is necessary to protect those who are weaker. Women are love and light to males’ darkness. They give us hope and acceptance. If we are lucky enough, we find our soulmate who will stand by our side for eternity. If you are that for Cyran, he is a lucky and very deserving elf.”

She stared at Cyran’s handsome face, caressing his temple with the pad of her thumb and loving his hair's soft, silky texture. “I know little about him other than he is like a brother to the Elven co-regents and that his father is, perhaps, worse than Loki.”

“If you are talking about Haman Daralai, then you are correct,” Kubrel said. “Haman is wanted on several of the Nine Worlds. He is no healer but an outright murderer.”

Brath kneeled beside her and held out his hand. She studied it, noticing the long fingers and steady strength as he waited for her to decide. “I will apparate the two of you to the castle. Badoch and Kubrel will deal with Loki.”

Her gaze popped up to his. “I may not know him well, but he is still my grandfather. Although deeply buried, I've felt the good in him and do not want him harmed.”

She held her breath and sensed Cyran’s faint spirit surrounding her as if to provide protection.Silly elf. You couldn’t protect anything right now, but I thank you for the effort.Heat momentarily filled her cold body, giving her a brief respite from the biting wind that had picked up during their conversation.

A glance at the darkening sky overhead announced the beginning of one of Jötunheimr’s notorious snowstorms. Over the mountains, still a distance from them, lightning cut through the swirling cloudbank in jagged streaks. From tales told to her by Freyja and her father in her youth, they would not survive the storm without the frost warrior’s aid.

If this is a mistake, Cyran, please forgive me,”she whispered to his blank mind and laid her hand on Brath’s.

16

Shalendra glanced around her in complete awe. They were surrounded by a room of ice—and what a room!

Cradling Cyran to her as they sat on a thick white pelt in front of a massive stone fireplace, she studied the room. The house was something straight out of a Victorian fairytale.

A diamond-encased silver filigreed mirror hung over the mantle, decorated with crystal candlesticks and adorned with simple white candles. A dark evergreen bough, long enough to drape halfway to the floor, was threaded through a grouping of silver and gold picture frames with a few glass vases scattered among them.

“Oh, this is exquisite,” she whispered to the empty room. Her gaze traveled upward along the walls to the high ceiling. Everything glittered in the soft firelight; however, the fire’s warmth seemed muted somehow. She raised her hand over her head, and the room’s chill created a film of ice over her skin.

Lowering her arm, she splayed her fingers as the subtle heat seeped through her palm. "Amazing. We are wrapped in toasty warmth, yet the ice walls and ceiling are unaffected. There isn't even a hint of melt-off. I wonder if my father has been here? He hates the European winters. Probably because it reminds him of Niflheimr."

She rested her palm against Cyran’s face, her thumb caressing his cheek as her gaze drifted back to the room. The dim firelight highlighted the shadowy gray mist that seemed to fill the center of each ice wall and the ceiling, allowing for privacy. Seeing through the walls and into bedrooms or bathrooms was a dreadful thought.

Tilting her head back, she guessed the ceiling height to be more than twenty feet. The burning wood crackled then snapped, and the flames flickered, growing in a mesmerizing dance, then died down again. At that moment, a flash of light moved across the ceiling, drawing her gaze away from the fire, creating a beautiful illusion as if the ice were diamond-filled waves.

Turning her head, she stared at the tapestries on each wall, losing herself in the scenes, reminding her of life long ago on Helheimer or even Asgard when she had stayed with Freyja as a child. The craftsmanship was exquisite. “I wish you could see this, although you probably already have since you are a favorite of the Frost king.”

Cyran jerked, and she glanced down, the subtle sideways movement of his eyeballs behind his closed eyelids visible. Hope welled and her heart raced. She laid her fingers against his neck, trying to feel his pulse. Against the pads of her fingertips, there was a subtle flow of blood as his heart beat once but then stopped.

“I don’t know much about Elvish bodily functions, but I hope you are slowing your heart until we can heal you. Please fight whatever has you in its grip. Fight so you can defeat Haman and save the many lives he would take.

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