Page 10 of A Game of Queens
“They have transformed, my queen,” Dörr whispered.
I loved that he didn’t make any assumptions or demands of me, yet he also understood my limitations in this place. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I certainly couldn’t tell that the other two had transformed from their stone to alfar forms. Though now that he’d told me, I could feel the same slick oil feel on my palm from Svar.
I released Dörr and blindly reached out to where I thought Myrk was in the middle. He snagged my hand, his fingers shorter and rougher than Dörr’s. I stepped closer until I felt the slight warmth rising from Myrk’s chest. I gently ran my fingers over his face, trying to picture him in my mind.
Dörr’s features were heavier and more defined. Myrk’s face was more slender with a less pronounced brow. He wasn’t as wide or tall, either, though I estimated that he’d stand at least seven feet tall.
Goddess. I’d never imagined such Blood would answer my call.
“Do you have a preference for where I should bite you?”
He snorted. At least I assumed the sound of earth splitting apart was a snort of derision. “Anywhere, my queen.”
I ran my hand down the strong column of his neck. Leaning closer, I tried to use my senses to feel a vein I should aim for, but as they’d said, they didn’t carry blood. I didn’t sense a pulsebeneath the surface. When I sank my fangs into his throat, his essence filled my mouth as if I’d torn open his aorta.
Spices burst on my tongue. Pepper and roasted chilies, laced with something else that was strong and rich. Another swallow, and I identified black coffee made so strong that it would cling to the spoon.
His essence swept through me, and this time, I felt something shift inside me. As if a floodgate opened and a switch flipped on.
I didn’t have any injuries to heal, no bones to mend, so it was easier to sense the flaring of my magic.
Heat flared down my arms and spine, driving away the chill, damp air of this place. I took several more swallows, but then licked my punctures closed. I needed to be able to hold their friend, and I didn’t know what my capacity was. As I lifted my head, I opened my eyes and gasped.
I could see. Rather than endless black and vague shapes, I could make out shades of black, gray, and deep purple. I could see the planes of Myrk’s face. His skin was completely black and his eyes glittered like chips of obsidian laced with purple amethysts. I looked over at Dörr. He was completely black too, but his eyes sparked with a deep midnight blue.
“I can see you.”
He flinched. Mouth tight, eyes narrowed, he waited without answering.
He waited for me to turn away. Flee. Scream. Faint. All of the above.
Gently, I reached up and cupped his cheek. “I will never fear you.”
His eyes widened, flaring closer to sapphire than midnight blue. “My queen.” He swallowed hard, dropping his head, his shoulders sagging. “As much as I love your words, it cannot be.You deserve Blood that you can love. That will shelter you with their bodies and hearts.”
“You cannot?”
His head snapped up. “I can indeed, my queen. I would…” His shoulders shook, his jaws grinding as if he chewed on massive boulders, slowly breaking them down into gravel. “But you…”
“You think I cannot love you?” Deliberately, I waited for an answer, letting the silence weigh heavily between us for several long moments.
I started to shake my hair back over my shoulders, but felt instead the heavy flop of the braid down my back. Rage flickered through me. My hair. The bastard had touched my hair.
I didn’t even care that said bastard was a god. Nobody touched my hair.Nobody.
Jerking the braid around in front of me, I found the end and started working my hair free. It was coated in snake gunk and wet with goddess only knew what, which fueled my fury. “You don’t know me yet, so allow me to give you a word of advice. It’s never wise to tell any queen what she cannot do. Let aloneme.”
DÖRR
I didn’t needto carry her blood inside me to know that she was angry. No, furious. Her fingers flew over the braid, quickly unraveling her hair while she muttered to herself.
“My hair. That bastard. Nobody touches my hair. Why the fuck would he braid it? I hate it. I hatehim.”
I didn’t know why it infuriated her so much. Her hands started to shake and her eyes glistened with tears.
Goddess above. She hadn’t cried inside the belly of Jörmungandr. She hadn’t cried as we’d pulled her through his guts. Or as her body tried to heal the damage done by his coils.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to help her. Hold her. But she’d clearly said that no one should touch her hair.
