"Sedna has sent you this feast for you to enjoy," the exousia told us, speaking in clipped tones.
He motioned stiffly to the food, keeping his eyes downcast the entire time, while Valeska sat perched on a chair with her hand hovering above the dagger she had in her ankle sheath.
"Enjoy" was the final word from the exousia before he turned and marched out the door.
"Thanks for bringing it in," Oona called after him as she walked over to the cart. "And tell Sedna thank you for sending it up."
The exousia gave no indication that he'd heard her or would pass along the message. He just went outside and locked the door loudly behind him.
Once he had gone, Valeska immediately rushed over to inspect the wares. She eyed the food the exact same way she had the exousia that had brought it in--warily and tensely, as if she were ready to fight for her life. Oona, on the other hand, had already begun loading up her plate.
Valeska held up a crescent-shaped slice of pale pink fruit and sniffed. "Is this some kind of mango?"
"I don't know what that is." Oona picked up a similar slice and took a bite, then groaned happily. "But it is delicious!"
"What's this?" Valeska asked as she held up a flat, peachy-golden fruit covered in a soft fuzz. "Is this like a mango donut?"
"It's a pan-tao," Oona replied as she walked over to the chaise with a plateful of various fruits and pastries. "Why do you keep asking if everything is a mango? Have you ever even had one?"
Valeska shrugged. "Everything looks like mangoes to me."
"Oh, my gosh!" Oona moaned after she took a bite of a pan-tao and wiped the juice off her chin. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten. You should try it."
"Sure, if I wanna die in agony of poisoning," Valeska muttered, and she left the food cart behind to go back to pacing the length of the room.
"If they were going to kill us, they would come out and do it," I said. "They don't need to sneak it in and wait around for poison to kick in."
"Mal, you should get some of this," Oona told me through a mouthful of food. "Seriously. It's sooo good."
"I'm gonna check on Asher first and see if he wants to come out and eat," I said, ignoring the rumbling of my stomach.
I didn't know how long we'd been here or the last time I'd eaten. It felt like somewhere between ten hours and eternity. But Asher had definitely been in the bathroom long enough that I'd begun to worry.
I knocked softly on the bathroom door and said, "Asher? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his words slightly muffled through the door. "It's open, if you wanna come in."
I opened the door cautiously at first, peeking in, but when I saw Asher standing in front of the sink, I came in and shut the door behind me. He was shirtless, wearing only his white linen pants, and his hair was still wet from his bath. Based on the dabs of white cream on his now-smooth face, I guessed he'd just finished shaving.
"A good bath and a good shave do wonders to make you feel like a normal person," he mused, wiping at his face with a towel, and then he turned to me.
In another time, seeing Asher's chiseled abs and broad chest would only send flutters of happiness and lust through me. But this was my first real chance getting a look at him since we'd found him.
There were half a dozen slits going down either side of his torso, below his pecs and down his ribs. Each cut was about six inches long, and though the wounds had already begun to heal, they were red, with raised, jagged edges, like he had been cut in the same place over and over to keep the wounds open.
On both his forearms he had another six matching cuts, making it look like he had badly but desperately attempted suicide multiple times. I knew that wasn't what had happened, that it was a way for them to drain his blood, but it was still a shocking and disturbing thing to see.
But the marks I found most horrifying were the ones carved on his chest, just to the left of his heart. They were less jagged than the others, but the skin around them was much darker, like a blood-red shifting to black where the incisions had been made. They were two symbols, ones I didn't recognize.
Asher stood before me, looking better than he had before--his body was more relaxed, his eyes brighter, even a smile played on the edge of his lips. But, looking at his skin all torn up like that, I could barely fight the urge to throw up or sob. He turned to inspect his shave in the mirror again, and I couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking on the word.
He looked over at me, startled by the emotion in my voice, and asked, "Why?"
"I should've come for you. I should've been here sooner. I shouldn't have let him take you." I swallowed back tears as he stepped closer to me.
"No, no." He put a hand on each of my shoulders and bent down slightly so he was eye level with me. "Listen to me, Malin. You did exactly the right thing. You did what I wanted you to do, what I asked you to do, and, more importantly, what you needed to do. You have nothing to apologize for."
"But look at what they did to you." I motioned to the jagged red marks on his arms and the bruises all over his torso.
"Yeah, okay, Abaddon was a real bastard," Asher allowed. "But honestly, I don't remember much of it. I was unconscious most of the time. So, yeah, I have some new battle scars, and I'm honestly a bit sore, but it wasn't that bad. At least not nearly as bad as it could've been, being held captive by the evil lords of the underworld."
"Yeah?" I asked hopefully. "So you promise you don't hate me?"
He laughed, warmly but softly. "I'll never hate you, Malin."
"Never say never," I replied, which only made him laugh harder, so he moved away from me and leaned back against the bathroom counter.
When he'd finished laughing, his expression shifted--his eyes were still light, the smile still curled his lips ever so slightly, but there was a new seriousness hardening the edges of his happiness. His words had a certain gravity when he asked, "You wanna know the truth?"
"Always."
He reached out, taking my hands and pulling me closer to him. His voice was low and husky as he stared into my eyes and said, "When they brought me here, they showed me the unimaginable enchantment of the world outside these walls. I have seen beauty beyond anything I could've dreamed, the full breadth and majesty of everything their heavens have to offer."
He smiled softly and cradled my face in his hand. "And still, I've never seen anything as wonderful and beautiful as you walking through that door in the dungeon."
Then I couldn't wait any longer. I leaned close and kissed him--intensely, passionately. With all that I had, with all that I wanted from him. My hand was on the back of his neck, my fingers in his hair, and his hand was pressed on the small of my back, holding me to him.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Asher lay beside me in the bed, sleeping soundly. We didn't know how long we'd be here or what would come after this, so we decided to rest and eat while we had our chance. Even Valeska had finally caved in and eaten some of the food, since the rest of us hadn't shown any signs of poisoning.
Now everyone else was asleep--Oona on the chaise under a fur blanket, and Valeska perched barefoot on the back of a chair with her wings folded over, reminding me of an overgrown chicken.
But I couldn't sleep. I'd been dozing off when a terrible thought had occurred to me: the Valhallan cloak wouldn't be big enough for the four of us.
Even if the mission was a success and Baldur gave us Odin's spear, I didn't know how all of us could get out of the underworld and back to earth.
I lay on my back with an arm under my head, staring at the dark ceiling, running a hundred different scenarios through my head. I couldn't leave any of them behind here, and I didn't want to stay here myself. I would, if I had to. Without hesitation, I would sacrifice myself for them if need be.
But there had to be a better way.
Or at least I hoped desperately that there was a better way.
Asher moaned softly, and I glanced over at him. Wh
en we'd decided to sleep, Oona had gone around blowing out most of the candles, but she left a few burning so we would find our way around in the dark. The lamp on the nightstand burned low, but I could still easily see the outline of Asher beneath the sheets beside me and the darkness spreading out over his chest.
I sat up and scrambled to turn up the kerosene lamp, and as the warm light brightened, I saw the dark blotches were bright red. Asher moaned again, louder this time, as he stained the sheets like a bloody Rorschach test.
"Asher," I whispered and touched his shoulder. His skin felt cool as I shook him. "Ash, wake up."
He twitched--a violent quick jerk--but it only lasted for a second, then he lay motionless. I was about to shake him again, but then he turned his head toward me, and, slowly, his eyes fluttered open.
When he saw me, a groggy smile lit up his face. "Good. You're still here. I didn't dream you."
"Asher, you're bleeding."
"What?" He sat up and the sheet slid down, revealing the deep cuts on his chest, the ones that didn't look like all the rest.
"They stop for a while, but eventually they always start up again," he complained as he dabbed at them with the sheet, and the bright red blood appeared to be darkening as it slowly scabbed. "When they brought me here, they gave me a salve for my wounds, and most of them healed up over the last few days. But these ones ... at least they seem to be done bleeding now."
"A few days?" I echoed. "You've only been in Kurnugia for five or six days." But even as I was saying it, I couldn't be certain. How long had I been here? A day maybe, it felt like, but how much time had passed on earth? Hours?
"What? No..." He looked up at me, shaking his head. "I've been here for ... weeks."
I gently told him, "Time moves differently here."
He leaned back, resting his head against the headboard as he stared forward. "I'd heard that, but I didn't realize it would be so drastic."
"You were with Abaddon and Gugalanna for weeks?" I asked, still keeping my voice hushed so we wouldn't wake Oona or Valeska.
"It felt like that. I think. I don't know." He shook his head again. "My time in She'ol was such a strange, painful blur."
"Do you know what those marks mean?" I pointed to the drying wounds on his chest.
He looked down at them. "No. Abaddon made them when we were alone together. He gave me something to drink first, said it was to help me get my strength. And then he used a dagger to carve into my chest, and he laughed as he finished and said, 'Now no one else can have you.'"
"He was branding you as his property?" I asked thickly.
"Probably." Asher looked over at me again and took my hand, gently squeezing it. "But I'm not his property anymore. I'm here, with you, and that's what matters."
A knock at the door interrupted us before I could reply. Valeska leapt off the chair, sending it clattering to the floor, and she flew up toward the ceiling, while Oona sat up with a start. A moment later, an exousia entered the room.
"Ready yourself," the exousia commanded. "Sedna and her court are ready to see you."
TWENTY-NINE
On the marble platform, in front of the open balcony, a dozen chairs had been set out. All of them were the same elegant gold design as the throne, only smaller versions with lower backs. Six of them were on either side of the throne to create a semicircle facing us.
Seated in each one of the chairs were what appeared to be a dozen divine immortals of great stature. A few of them I recognized--like Bastet, a humanoid goddess with the head of a cat, and Tsukiyomi, a stoic god with silvery lavender hair--but many of them I could only guess based on their imposing presence and particular features, like a goddess with navy-blue skin or a god with brightly colored feathers and the feet of an emu.
Standing at the side, wearing a fitted white tunic with loose trousers, was a tall but slender man, and his cranium was totally smooth. He was plain but not unattractive, with a broad nose and full lips, but his dark eyes were anxious as he looked down at us.
We knelt before them, as we had before, as the exousia directed. They stood behind us, armed with golden spears, should we decide to charge the gods. Not that we would.
"Thank you for your patience as I consulted with my court," Sedna announced in her cool, clear voice. "I trust you have been comfortable."
"Yes, thank you," I replied, keeping my voice as cool and strong as hers. "We truly appreciate all your hospitality."
"Yes, yes, we're all giant bowls of gratitude," Bastet said with an exaggerated roll of her bright green eyes. "Let's move on with it, shall we?"
Sedna cast her a look, then continued. "Our main concern is what you plan to do with the spear once you have it."
"I plan to give it to Odin," I answered honestly, which was met with a few scoffs, eye rolls, and irritated muttering.
"That's exactly what he wants!" one of the other gods shouted in protest.
"We're playing into his hands," another agreed with a scowl. Her expression now matched the rest of the court's--save for Sedna, who continued to look impassive.
Tsukiyomi folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "The spear shouldn't even exist. It goes against everything this world was built upon."
"Yes, but so does immortals kidnapping the child of a Valkyrie," Sedna countered. "The impious have drawn the first blood, and we cannot let them rise up to the earth."
"We all want to stop an uprising before it's too late, but I don't trust that spear in the hands of a Vanir god," Tsukiyomi said. "Especially not Odin."
"Agreed," Bastet added. "Baldur took the spear from him for a reason." She looked over at the man in the tunic standing off to the side. "Didn't you?"
"Of course," he replied, sounding uneasy. Baldur stood tall, with his hands clasped behind his back. "The ability to snuff any living thing entirely out of existence, with no consequence or resistance, is unparalleled. It's too much power for any one god to wield."
Sedna finally said, "I'm not sure how we can resolve this."
"You haven't let them speak," Bastet argued, motioning toward us. "There has to be an agreement that can be reached. Baldur, tell her directly what you want, and let the girl tell you what she needs."
Baldur cleared his throat and looked down at me. "I cannot let the spear go back into the hands of my father. I took it to protect all the beings on earth, and below, so I can't let that all be destroyed."
He paused and licked his lips before continuing. "Many centuries ago, my own mother Frigg came to the Gates of Kurnugia. We could not and would not open the doors for her then, and had she asked, I would never have given the spear to her. That is how strongly I feel."
"The problem seems to be that you don't want the spear left in the hands of a Vanir god," Oona interjected.
Baldur nodded. "Precisely."
"Then we won't do that," I said, with far more confidence than I actually felt. "I will return the spear to you when this is all over."
I had no clue how I could possibly get the spear back from Odin if I brought it to him as he asked, but if Odin believed it was important, I would do whatever it took to get the spear back on earth. Returning the spear afterwards would be a problem for another day.
"You'll return to Kurnugia?" Sedna asked, raising her eyebrow.
"There isn't an open door here," Tsukiyomi contended. "You can't just come and go as you please."
"I got in here once," I persisted. "I can do it again."
"It's actually much easier for a mortal than you immortals might imagine," Valeska added.
"Frankly, that does little to address Baldur's concerns, and mine, for that matter," Sedna said. "Yes, the Vanir gods are particularly dangerous with a weapon like that, but you are a mere mortal. What's to stop Odin from simply keeping it once you give it to him? Or another immortal might take it, or even another human."
Suddenly there was a loud sound--like an avalanche and a lion roar--and the whole palace began to tremble. The floor rumbled beneath us, like a
n earthquake.
"Stay calm!" Sedna commanded, even as the room swayed and the immortals let out gasps and yelps of surprise.
The shaking began to lessen, but the deafening sound of a hundred salpinx erupted. It was a brassy, sad note that reverberated through me.
Sedna stood up and looked behind her at the world outside, beyond the balcony. "They've broken through the first wall."
"How is that possible?" a goddess wailed.
"We should've killed them all," another god said, almost to himself. He was the only one still sitting, and his eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped. "That was our only chance. We should've killed all the mortals that came into a realm where they don't belong."
"It was already too late," Sedna insisted. "As soon as they had a Valkyrie bloodline, they had what they needed to unseal--"
The word died on her lips as another wall came crashing down, echoing through the palace as it shook.
"Go!" Sedna ordered. "All of you! Arm yourselves if you can fight, and get to safety if you can't. Gugalanna is leading an army on Zianna, and they will be here soon."
As everyone began to scramble, doing as their ruler had ordered, I got to my feet and raced up the stairs toward Baldur. I grabbed his arm, stopping him before he escaped the room.
"Please," I begged him.
All around me, I could hear things crashing as statues fell over and paintings clattered to the floor. The cries of the immortals throughout the citadel came in through the balcony, interrupted by the bleat of the salpinx horns.
Baldur put his hand on the marble rail that ran around the veranda, bracing himself as the floor shook beneath us. He met my gaze with an intense uncertainty--his dark eyes flitting around the chaos that had enveloped the room, before landing back on me--and then he reached under his tunic and pulled out a spear.
It was only about a foot long, with the shaft ending in a jagged break. The head appeared to be made of a near-translucent red glass with a razor-sharp tip, while the rod was twisty metallic dark blue.
"Here." He held out the spear toward me. "Take this."