Page 62 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

“And what would you have told me?” Freyja’s familiar voice said behind them.

Turning, Émilien let out a low roar. In two leaps, he crossed the room and embraced his brother while Jessica stood beside them with a sweet smile.

Shalendra immediately noticed the ravages on her aunt's face from being Haman’s prisoner, but she was healing with Freyja and Idunn’s help.

Sadly, though, she would never be able to return to Midgard as a human. Idunn could only save her by feeding her the same ambrosia and blood-laced drink she had given Freyja’s Night Witches when they chose immortality and a second chance at life and love.

Jessica had not hesitated and had accepted the honor, but from what Cyran told her later, Olivier had not taken it well and was furious with Idunn. It had taken all of them, including Loki and Zel, to get him to understand it had either been immortality or she would pass on to her next life.

“He needs another healing session,” Cyran whispered to her. “But he didn’t want to miss seeing his brother. They have much to catch up on. The last time he saw your father, Émilien was still cursed as a werewolf.”

A movement behind the newcomers caught Shalendra’s attention. She bent sideways and let out a delighted squeal. Racing across the room, she flew into Castien’s open arms. “I was so afraid for you.”

She leaned back, holding him at arm’s length, and gave him a good once-over, ensuring he had healed. “You seem fine.” She met his happy gaze. “Youarefine, right?”

Castien nodded. “I am more than fine. Cyran’s draugar friends cared for me until Freyja found us and took us all to her home in Asgard.”

He patted his flat stomach, and for the first time, she noticed he had gained some weight and seemed more filled out than when they were in the Dwarven prison. “I have never eaten so well. Idunn is an amazing cook.”

“Where are Banayl and Daqar? Shouldn’t they be here too?”

Castien shook his head. “They stayed on Midgard to help with the war effort. There was a problem with someone named Fer-Diorich, and a lot of werewolves were searching for him. There’s more to the story, but I didn’t understand most of it, so I stopped listening.”

Cyran laid his hand on Castien’s shoulder and smiled at the dwarf. “I hear you have been talking with Ailuin and Lamruil about uniting Svartálfheimr and Alfheimr. Do you think the dwarves will ever forgive us for what happened?”

Castien shrugged. “I can only try to get them to see reason. We’re a stubborn lot, and I know a few elders who will refuse to let go of the past, but who can blame them? They lost their homes and families because of one man’s misguided idea that he was the perfect elf. There is no such thing in any race or culture. We all have different beliefs and lifestyles, which is how it should be. The world would be boring otherwise, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Hel moved to stand behind her daughter and rested her hands on Shalendra’s shoulders. “I was ostracized because of my father and how I looked, so I hid away in this castle and lost myself and the ones I love the most.”

She smiled at Castien, whose face darkened in a rosy blush. “You are a very wise dwarf, Castien. My husband and I owe you so much for caring for our daughter.”

Castien’s gaze met Shalendra’s, one side of his mouth rising in his sweet, crooked smile, his handsome face more relaxed than she had ever seen. “We took care of each other. I had never had a friend and had no idea what friendship was until she came into my life.”

“So, everyone owes everyone else.” Loki strode into the room. “What a horrid way to live.”

Shalendra met Cyran’s gaze. “Some things, I’m afraid, will never change.” He only shook his head.

She turned back to her friend. “So, Castien, if you manage to convince the dwarves that we elves aren’t horrible, do you think they will continue calling themselves dwarves and living in Svartálfheimr?”

She laid her hand over her friend’s arm. “Also, I must ask, but did you ever hear anything more about Soliana? Where she may have been taken?”

“I’m sorry, Shalendra. The last time I heard anything about her was what you told me after you were summoned to see the dwarf king, who wasn’t the true king. As to your other question, probably? We, dwarves, have found that we welcome the Earth, a connection, if you will,” Castien explained.

“I’m not sure whether it’s because I’m a bloodminer or if it’s the centuries we have lived underground, but a kinship exists. She takes care of us, and we take care of her. Some of the younger dwarves were beginning to question things and had even started calling themselves elves again, so who knows? Maybe in time things will return to what once was.”

“Enough of the chit-chat.” Loki glanced at Hel. “Is he secured?”

She nodded and moved to the enormous window, staring out over her kingdom. She waited until everyone had moved around her, then pointed to a glowing red dot in the distance.

She touched the tip of her finger to the glass, and the spot grew until the entire horizon was filled with a volcanic range, lava, and fire, spewing and spitting high into the hazy red sky. In the center stood a tall man towering over the mountain range, balls of fire hovering just above his outstretched palms.

When his gaze met Hel’s, he nodded. “Good morning, Hel,” his voice boomed. “Are you here to check on the elf?”

“Good morning to you too, Surtr. Yes, everyone here would like to see your prisoner—to make certain he will never hurt anyone again.”

The fireball disappeared, and with a wave of one giant hand, the volcanic skyline flew inward until they looked into the center of a massive mountain filled with heavy smoke. Shalendra could almost smell the sulfur.

With a strong exhale, Sutr cleared the cavern's interior. Hanging in an obsidian cage just above the boiling magma was the statue of Haman, with a familiar chain wrapped around his wrists.

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