Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4) by Gwen Rivers (latest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

a long sweeping train. It pools on the floor behind her, like a puddle of blood.

His jaw clenches. He’s dressed in the style of one of her servants. “Vindictive bitch.”

She crosses to a chaise and lowers her body onto it. “And you really think that your mate is any better? Look at what she’s done to you.”

“Nic’s done nothing.” Aiden shakes his head. “She’s innocent.”

“Innocent?” The goddess scoffs. “Of the crimes against the fey? Most of them are dead, thanks to her. I gave her a task. To kill Underhill and she hesitated.”

“And so would I if you asked me to kill my own mother.”

She waves that away like it’s of no importance. “Underhill will kill us all if it means her imprisonment ends. That Fate took your place and stalled her for the time being. Until she is terminated, the fey will suffer. The only being capable of taking her out is Nicneven. And if Underhill gets her hands on you….” she trails off.

Understanding dawns. “That’s why you brought me here. You’re worried that Underhill will carve me up and use my bones to free Loki.”

She snaps her fingers and a glass of red wine appears in one perfectly manicured hand. No offer of refreshment for him. “The All-father told me. You’re the key to releasing the trickster. He, in turn, can release Fenrir’s corporeal body and Ragnarök will begin.”

“You know better than anyone that fate can’t be altered.” Aiden studies the room he hadn’t seen in a millennium. Everything is white and bright. Outside the open windows, birds twitter in the trees. The scent of Idunn’s orchard waft on the breeze. The apples that keep the gods in their physical prime. “Where is the rest of the welcoming committee?”

“There’s a little hiccup.” Freya reclines so her lush curves are on full display. In his youth he would have taken that seductive pose as an invitation. Now he could barely hold her gaze. Everything about the goddess is just…wrong.

Because she isn’t Nic. Isn’t my mate.

The wolf is oddly silent. He frowns, wondering why it hasn’t lept out and shredded Freya already.

“What sort of hiccup?”

“Your beast has been lulled into a temporary sleep.”

His lips part. “You can do that?”

She rolls her eyes as though the question irritates her and sips from her glass.

“The keyword there is temporary.”

“The gods fear the beast within me more than most.” He studies her face. “They already tried to kill me. Tried and failed.”

“The wolf is a living being and as such, it can die.” She waves her hand and a pink bubbly liquid appears on the table. “Drink that and your curse will be lifted. You will be welcomed back with open arms.”

He stares at the vial in disbelief. “I’ve grappled with the beast for centuries. And all this time you’ve had the ability to kill it?”

When she doesn’t answer, he swallows. He could be free. Free of the monster that had murdered his brother. Vengeance at last.

“What will happen to its magic?” Magic could neither be created nor destroyed. The wolf had its own set of abilities that had melded with his fire magic over the centuries.

“Oh, but that’s the best part.” The goddess says. “You know that giant tear your mate created in the Veil? The wolf’s magic will seal it tight. No more in-betweens, no more crossings. Underhill will be contained. Midgard will be safe. Your mate will stay with the mortals. You get to live, so does Nic.”

“And the fey still in Underhill?”

“Sacrifices must be made.” She holds her arms out as if in welcome. “Drink it, Váli. Drink and be welcomed back to Valhalla.”

Empty Promises

Three meals have come and gone in my new cell. At least now I have someone to talk to other than a spirit.

“Where are your parents?” I ask Astrid over our breakfast of crappy instant oatmeal and orange juice from concentrate.

Surly mortal parents wouldn’t be okay with a young child being held imprisoned this way.

She lifts her spoon and lets gravity take hold of the gluey mixture until it lands back in the bowl with an unappealing plop. “I don’t have any. I ran away from the foster home I was in after…the incident.”

My ears perk up. “Incident?”

Her gaze meets mine and she looks down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Having a wealth of my own secrets means that I’m not about to push her for a confidence she doesn’t feel.

She eyes me curiously. “You’re the first person I’ve seen, other than them.”

“Same. Are there other prisoners here?”

She shakes her head, dark curls bouncing. “No.”

I fish, still trying to decipher if Astrid knows what she is. “Do you know why they took you? Why they have held you here for so long?”

There is a pause. “I see things…things other people don’t see.”

“What kind of things?”

She shoots me a repentant look. “I lied to you before. About hearing the guards talk about your baby? They never talk around me.”

She’s clearly worried that I’m going to chastise her for fibbing. I shovel the oatmeal in without comment, waiting for her to say her piece.

“I know because of my…ability. The baby you’re carrying? It’s a girl.”

My lips part. “You’re sure?”

She nods. “I can feel her soul. It’s like a big bright glowing string of red energy. You have one too. But yours is darker, like a deep purple.”

Chills shoot down my spine and my hand reaches instinctively for my stomach. It’ll take months for the proof to manifest, at least if I remembered my biology lessons correctly. Still. Eerie.

She looks away. “You think I’m a freak, don’t you?”

“No, not at all.” I offer her my palm and, after a moment’s hesitation, she takes it. “You have a gift, Astrid. A special one.”

I don’t say any more than that, sure that Agent Hanson is monitoring our every word. If she doesn’t know about the Norns, then I’m not going to be the one to enlighten her.

“What is it the FBI do to you?” I ask.

Her shoulders