Page 25 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

“I have been named worse.”

She grimaced. “Great, you’re a comedian. I grew up in Midgard, lived with Émilien—my father, and rarely left France. Most of the time, Freyja, her twin brother Freyr, Idunn, and sometimes would visit us, but I have never been to Alfheimr or been around my people.”

Daqar tilted his head to one side. “Forgive me then for my assumption. Many have tried to find a countercurse in the last few years, but all have failed.” He threw a glance at his friends. “It isn't so bad once you acclimate to the power surges and anger. If one tries, a semblance of peace can be achieved.”

The dark-skinned draugr scoffed. “Only a sainted monk could conquer the fury surging through us as we channel our magic. Even then, it's next to impossible.”

Shalendra’s green gaze stared at him. “And what is your name, sir?”

The man’s black gaze turned to her. “I am Ukris. I am Nubian and lived in ancient times, even before the Egyptians came to power.”

She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ukris. My father took me to visit the Nubian pyramids. They are excavating them right now, trying to discover an entombed pharaoh. None has been found yet, but there is always hope. Just like I have hope for you and the other draugar. While our lives change, we must adapt if what was is no longer possible, wouldn’t you agree?”

With a glance at Ukris, Banayl trained his green gaze on Shalendra. “You are wise for one so young. Please forgive us if we come across as rude, like in Ukris’s case. After living like this for thousands of years, you can understand how difficult it is for us to have hope again.”

Shalendra nodded, and one long curl feathered across her cheek. Cyran's gaze followed her long fingers as they tucked the strand behind her slightly pointed ear. “I, more than most, understand. My father was the first werewolf to be created by the Dark Fae and, until recently, was cursed to live in that form. My mother’s love for him was the counterspell, although he can still return to his wolf form as needed. Even when life is bleakest, no one except you can take away hope.”

Daqar glanced at Banayl before turning his gaze back to Shalendra. “Your father treated us with kindness and respect, more than we are usually shown.”

“He treated us like people and not monsters,” Ukris muttered.

“True. He understands our plight,” Daqar agreed. “You, Shalendra Elasalor, are much like your father. We would be honored to aid you, should you have need.”

“Thank you, Daqar. My father is amazing, isn’t he? You should meet my mother…well, maybe not. She can be quite intimidating until you get to know her.”

Cyran raised one brow. “Intimidating is not the word I would have chosen to describe Hel. Scary, yes.” She gave him a sideways glare, which made him grin.

“Hel? As in Niflheimr’s queen? That Hel?” Ukris asked with an awe-filled tone.

Cyran met the draugar’s gaze and nodded. “Yep.ThatHel.”

“I have heard many stories about her,” Benayl said. “Because of those stories, I never want to meet her—even though she is your mother. Now, I am even more impressed with Émilien.”

“Daqar, will you please restore Castien? He did nothing to deserve whatever you did to him. He is my friend, and I can’t bear to see him like this any longer.”

“My cousin and I have only been able to save one other whom we tried to reverse, but if you are fine with the consequences, we will try.”

Shalendra hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. Cyran stepped closer and laid his hand on her arm. Pulling his gaze away, he met Daqar’s pale green eyes. “What if this does not work? What will happen to Castien?”

“He will become a shade—neither dead nor alive. A ghost, if you will.”

Shalendra’s body trembled under his hand. Reaching out, he drew her closer and wrapped one arm around her narrow shoulders. Glancing down, he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “What do you want to do? We can leave him here until we can alert Freyja or Idunn. I’m sure one of them will figure out what to do.”

“There is another,” she whispered, turning back to Castien. “If you will let me join the two of you, I want to try to heal him now.”

Banayl nodded and held out his hand to her. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his and her other in Daqar’s. Cyran’s pride for her increased even more. Not many would do what she just did. All who hear the stories about draugar know that to touch them meant they, too, were tainted somehow. Maybe, he hoped, that shame was something they could stop. He could not stand the thought of anything happening to her.

The three positioned themselves around the dwarf. With linked hands, the two draugar loosened the tight hold on their powers. With each second, their humanity receded and, in its place, stole the fearsome wraiths. Their black cloaks and long white hair moved with an invisible wind as their faces again turned gaunt. Their soulless eyes filled him with dread, so he fixed his gaze on Shalendra’s bowed head. She had a rare ethereal beauty. The sensation filling his heart terrified him.

The cousins lifted their swords, the points touching above Castien’s head. Their magic flared, the light blue tendrils coating their blades like flames. The moment Shalendra's head raised, the color changed, turning into a brilliant ice blue, and he had to shade his eyes to catch a glimpse of her.

Bathed in the draugar’s magic, she nodded at each, then stared into Castien’s unseeing eyes.

“Castien!” In response to her loud demand, his head jerked back, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream.

9

Shalendra caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, drawing her gaze to Cyran as he stepped toward her and Castien. His face showed a range of emotions: surprise, then worry, which morphed into anger.

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