White Stag (Permafrost #1)(12)

My father had taught me everything I knew, everything that helped me survive in the Permafrost, everything I knew about goblins, the folk, and humans. I followed him like a shadow, absorbing every word he spoke. He would call me his pride, would revel in the fact that I was the only daughter who took after him, with dark curls and darker skin, heir in both position and physical features. He would’ve hated me for becoming like them. If he could see me, he would hate me.

But even if I were dead, I wouldn’t go back to them in the worlds beyond. Those who took their life by their own hands didn’t join their family in the afterlife; at best they haunted the earth, at worst they joined the dread ship Naglafar as undead slaves toiling forever. Either way, Soren’d placed a bind on me long ago that effectively stopped me from hurting myself. If I even thought about it, he would know. I couldn’t escape in death, and if I was being completely honest with myself, I didn’t want to. The urge to live, to survive, burned in me like a raging fire. Even after what Lydian had done to me, I still survived. Life might have been painful and hard and even futile, but giving up was not in my nature. I would rather survive in hopes that tomorrow would be better than take the chance away completely. But I wanted to live as a human, not a goblin.

There had to be another way. The Hunt would take me outside the Permafrost eventually. If I were outside the borders of the Permafrost, armed and horsed, I could escape. The bonds that kept me from escaping wouldn’t mean anything once I was in the human world. They were especially strong, created with both Soren’s and my own blood and spoken in the old magic language of the Permafrost. Those that tied me to Soren and the ’frost would be harder to escape from, but if I were in the human world, perhaps they would break. I doubted Soren would decide I was more important to chase after than the stag. All I had to do was join Soren on the Hunt and play along as well as I could, keep my humanity in check, and when the time came, run like Hel to my freedom. It would be difficult, but not impossible.

My lungs were on fire, and I released the breath I’d been holding. I could do this. I had to.

I don’t know how long I stared at that empty chasm, but I knew it was long enough for shreds of orange light to trickle in from the skylights and for the sound of careful footsteps to come my way. Light, quiet, almost effortless. Whoever they belonged to, they were not human. After the incident with Lydian, that could spell some very nasty things for me.

Shuffling through the darkness, I gave my sight over to my touch and grabbed at the rock farthest away from the edge. Grappling for a hold on the loose, porous bits, I pulled myself up and into a crevice nearly too small, and waited. When I was in a safe enough position, I closed my eyes. Even the light shining through the skylights was too weak to get any idea what or who was coming through.

When you couldn’t count on your eyes, you counted on everything else. There were at least three walkers, one with a heavy gait that he couldn’t contain. Two brutes and a she-goblin, I could smell that much from here. Goblin males smelled like fire; their women, ice. Another smell played on the back of my tongue: iron poisoning. It was just a hint of the bitterness, not enough for it to be Lydian’s, but definitely one of the men he’d come into contact with.

They started speaking, voices echoing down the chamber.

“You’re telling me you want to ally with Elvira after the laughingstock Soren’s whore made of you?” My hands curled into fists. This was the she-goblin, someone whose name I couldn’t recall. She must’ve been Elvira’s subordinate. Back during the fight with Lydian, the she-goblin’s fierce eyes had looked as if they wanted to consume me.

“It was Lydian’s power that brought down the Erlking in the first place,” a male argued. I knew his voice. Franz. He’d been the one to successfully pull the nail out. It smelled like he hadn’t gone unscathed.

“It was the challenge, not Lydian alone. Soren could’ve easily been the most powerful in the room if he hadn’t allowed his little pet to get in his way.” The third voice was a male I didn’t know.

“She’s a liability, even if neither knows it. Once Soren starts the Hunt, he’ll take her with him. I can see it in his eyes. He wants her. And that will make hunting his power easier. It’s simple logic, Helka,” Franz said.

Helka grunted, seemingly unconvinced. “I do what’s best for my leader; Elvira wants someone who can be an asset if she loses and a strength if she wins. If Lydian wins, would we have his word that our power would remain?”

“Not untouched,” Franz said. “But less taken than normal. That would only be fair. And the same would go for each other.”

It’s starting. It had been less than thirty-six hours since the Erlking died, and they were already making bets on the winner and the losers and who would survive with the most power intact.

“Soren’s team hasn’t been assembled yet. I don’t even know his plans, and I take pride in my relationship with the man,” the unrecognizable voice said.

“He likes his whore better than half his court. Not that he has much of that either,” Helka said. “Some men have interesting tastes.”

Bile rose in my throat at those implications. Of course everyone thought he was bedding me. It’d probably be more scandalous if they knew he’d never laid a finger on me in that way. He’d seen me naked. With how damaged I was after Lydian, I wouldn’t have survived without intense healing. Soren had been part of that. I’d spent enough time in the training yard with him to have gotten a few closer-than-needed looks at his body myself, as Soren wasn’t exactly known for his modesty. But he’d never touched me. Not in that sense.