Page 38 of Elf Shot

"Here we go. Hope you're ready for this," Tor murmured. He slung an arm around each of them, and they began a swaying, giggling walk towards the two warriors guarding the entrance way.

"And what have you found?" one asked Tor, looking Layla over.

"Presents for the prince. They were the prettiest in the villages to the south. All the rest looked like the wrong end of a dwarf. You girls are more than happy to come to a real party, right?" Tor asked them. Layla and Ciara giggled.

"Especially if all your friends are as big and strong as you," Ciara said, wrapping her hands around his thick bicep. "Look! They are bigger than my hands!'

"I got something else you won't be able to wrap your hand around," Tor replied, and Layla almost choked on her tongue.

"Go on through. They are already getting rowdy in there," the guard replied, waving them through. "You wouldn't want to keep the prince waiting. If he's got an appetite like his father, he's going to need a fresh stream of girls at all times."

"How promising!" Layla said a little too loudly. The thought of Arne touching another person, let alone a fresh stream of them made her vision blur with rage.

Stupid elf mark.

The dark tunnel was lit with torches and was crowded with people dropping off deliveries and warriors carrying fresh casks. Layla could hear the uproar of revelry, and she drew closer to Tor as Ciara and she got looked over like hunks of meat.

"Why are men so gross everywhere?" Ciara muttered under her breath. A rowdy dwarf tried to palm her ass, but Tor's reflexes were lightning quick, knocking the dwarf's hand back.

"These ones belong to the prince, and not your grubby paws," he snapped.

The dwarf only smirked and lifted his ale mug. "That's fine. I'll have 'er after he's done."

"Gross," Layla said, her need for a bath increasing with every step they took. The tunnel led through some kitchens and food storage areas. They followed the roar of noise and picked up some ale mugs so they didn't look out of place in the crowd.

They followed the flow of dwarves, dark elves, and shifters, and Layla suddenly felt she really was about to stumble across Erebor.

The feast was being held in a cavern that was as big as a football stadium. Tables and benches, open cooking fires, musicians, warriors, and revelers—all made the rock shake. The mountain had been carved away for function without any unnecessary designs into the rock. They didn't need it because everywhere they looked were Vili's black and gold banners.

Layla suddenly remembered the sickening photos of the blood magic in the estuary when Aneirin had been contacting the two generals. The rune Teiwaz was what they had thought was Vili's symbol, and Charlotte had been right, as usual. It was a warrior rune that could be used to enhance strength so that the average person could become a berserker. It was stamped in gold nearly everywhere Layla looked.

"He's over doing it a bit, don't you think?" Ciara whispered.

"He's a god. They can't help themselves," Tor replied.

Layla's heart began to pound, and an awareness swept over her, just like the night Arne was taken.

"He's here," she said, grabbing Tor's hand. She looked around but couldn't spot him.

Tor seemed to know exactly what was happening. "Follow the feeling, Layla. There are too many scents in here for me to track him, but maybe you can."

They hung onto each other's hands so they wouldn't get lost in the crowd, and Layla followed the deep tugging feeling in her chest. She might have been pissed off that Arne had marked her, but at least it was being of use.

Layla froze as they made it to where a table was set up on a dais. A giant of a man sat on a throne made of stone and covered in black bear furs. He had his long hair in braids and decorated with gold. He wore a leather breast plate but had his tattooed arms free. A broad sword rested at his side of easy use.

"He doesn't half look like Odin," she murmured.

"What?" Tor demanded.

Layla's heart stopped altogether when the doors behind the dais opened, and Arne walked out. He was dressed in the same armor as Vili, his hair back in braids, and his eyes were smeared with kohl.

Arne placed a hand on Vili's shoulder and said something that made the god throw back his head and laugh. Arne sat by Vili's side, and they knocked ale mugs together like they really were father and son enjoying each other's company. They looked so much alike, Layla's heart hurt in a mixture of longing and horror.

"Tor?" Layla whispered, her voice breaking. "I think we are fucked."

16

Layla's head felt like it was underwater. She could hear Tor telling her over and over again that it wasn't Arne. She was torn between wanting to run away and leave him there and throwing a sword at him for making her worry so much about him. He wasn't locked in some dungeon, getting tortured. He looked like he was right at home.

---