While their attention focused on each other, I reached out and grabbed the goblet, thrusting it quickly within the folds of the cloak.
Too quickly.
I hadn't counted on the sound that crystal glancing against metal would make. I'd been careless and smacked the goblet hard against the sword hilt at my hip.
It sounded like a little ringing bell. The girl paused in her singing again. She looked around, her eyes widening at the empty table. A roomful of heads jerked toward me.
And so did the queen's. Her painted eyebrows shot high into the edges of her wig.
She stared right at me.
I was well and truly caught.
Chapter 29
The queen's razor-edged screech slashed my eardrums to ribbons.
I bent over, desperately needing to cover up both my ears, the same way Sarah was doing. The same way everyone in the queen's presence was doing. Even Mika stood in a half crouch, protecting her supersensitive wolf ears, weapon abandoned at her feet, at the queen's mercy. Her shriek raked at my entire head with claws of agony, leaving scorching rivers of pain in its wake.
A whimper escaped my lips, and I bit back the hysterical moan which would have followed. With my right hand still gripping the crystal goblet by its stem, I managed to stick one finger in my right ear. Then I slammed my other palm tight against my left ear, shutting out much of the shrieking.
Too late.
A sticky warmth trickled down my cheek, and I shivered at the power of the queen's screech. Loud enough to pierce our eardrums. Despite dulling the sound with my hands somewhat, agony still spiked through both my throbbing ears and deep within my now viciously aching head.
I'd wasted too much time trying to protect myself, so I let go, wincing as the volume of her screeching increased a million-fold until at last she had to pause to take a breath. The musicians hobbled to the door, clutching at their bleeding ears. They tugged it open and ran. The open doorway seemed to beckon the queen's captives, and seconds later the two Huldra limped out, holding on to the elf, who seemed close to fainting from the pain.
The open doorway meant only one thing to me. The queen's guards. Were they chasing after the escapees, or had they too been driven to their knees by the queen's banshee song? Either way, we didn't have much time left. I grasped the goblet, tucked it carefully into my leather satchel and sidled closer to the quivering girl.
She lowered her trembling hands, fingers speckled with blood. I was about to scare the shizzles out of her, speaking to her like a ghost out of thin air, but I had no choice. We had to get out of here before the queen's shrieks brought the rest of her guards pouring into the room. Or before she made us bleed to death through our ears.
I prayed Sarah wouldn't go all hysterical on me now. "Don't be afraid," I whispered, hoping she could hear me through her blood-soaked ear. "Stay away from the queen, maybe near the door. We'll get you out of here." My voice echoed in my ears, hollow, muffled. The damage had been done; I was still half-deafened by the queen's hellish scream.
But Sarah must have heard and understood me. Her eyes widened with shock, the color draining from her already too pale face. And though fear flitted across her features, she clenched her jaw, controlled the rise of panic and maintained a calm, steely composure. She nodded slightly, staring right through me.
Boy, is this girl chock full of courage.
It was time. I faced the queen, who surveyed the room and grinned, her yellow teeth gleaming in the shivering torchlight. She knew she had won.
Now or never.
Taking a huge leap of faith, and hoping I wouldn’t live to regret trusting Sarah, I shrugged the cloak off and threw it at her. No way could I fight while encumbered by yards of invisible fabric. Sarah caught it, staring first at me and then at my wings, wide eyes ever wider.
So much for the glamor, then.
I stiffened as it dawned on me—maybe Thor had insisted on me bringing the cloak because he knew glamors wouldn't work within the evil depths of Swartelfheim.
The room fell into a pain-filled, almost tangible silence as Queen Huld gaped at my sudden appearance. I descended the dais, eyes focused solely on her. She took two steps forward to the table at her left, grabbed a thin, short-bladed sword and threw it hand to hand. Then the queen cackled, so self-assured that I could almost taste the bile of defeat. I blinked and shook the negativity out of my head as she gripped the sword between both palms and tugged, pulling the weapon apart and coming away with two separate blades. In another time and place, I would've gasped and thought that little trick was pretty cool.
Not today.
Today, my blood simmered with every bit of anger and hatred I'd come to feel for this evil screeching dwarf. She grinned, triumphant after her little war dance.
Keep grinning, witch. Enjoy it while you can, because I'm just going to wipe the satisfaction off your hideous face.
I gripped my sword hilt, blood pumping through my body, fingers tight on the cool metal. My breath came in short, violent puffs, and I almost drew the sword. And then I blinked, aghast at this sudden inner desire.
I wanted to kill the queen.
Fear and distaste pricked goose bumps to my skin. Did I really want to kill her, banshee bitch that she was? Where had that urge come from? I'd never willingly intended to end a life before. Even Pete, the Craven school bully who'd used me for a punching bag, hadn't extracted such a powerful need from me. Granted I'd used a very strategically placed kick to incapacitate Pete, but I'd never once wanted to kill him for what he'd done or for what he'd intended to do.
All the queen saw was my moment of hesitation. And she smiled, as if satisfied she'd won already. She spun the pair of swords above her, curved blades whirring around her head, so threatening, so intimidating. Whatever she was trying to do was so not working. Her short stature and her grotesquely grimacing face melded together—more amusing than threatening. I wanted to chuckle, but all this posturing was wasting my time.
Okay, witch. Two can play this game. Enough with the dramatics already.
I drew my sword, reveling in the sound of pure music the blade generated as it sang for me. Relief flooded through me as I registered the sword's song. Not dull or muffled anymore.
I could hear again.
When I drew the second sword strapped to my back, the queen did a double take, her face shifting to cold, stony hatred. Poor queen. I'd just stolen her double-sworded thunder. She flexed her knees, waiting for my next move. The numerous little tables, covered in random candles and trinkets, vases and weapons, made circling her much harder.
I leapt forward, swinging hard, and landed a blow to the flat of her sword, following quickly with a wide swipe with my other sword. Metal screamed against metal, echoing around the room loud enough to hurt our already sensitive ears. The power of the blow vibrated through the blade and into her arm, but she flared her nostrils and took it in her stride.
I circled her, brushing against a trinket-filled table. It tipped over, eliciting an angry growl from the queen as glass shattered and tinkled. She thrust and I deflected, and we danced a double flamenco of swords for a few minutes, neither tiring, neither winning.
Mika, meanwhile, did nothing. A few quick glances confirmed that she just stood by and watched, a strange, indecipherable expression on her face. Had the queen's taunts and insults hurt Mika so badly?
I hadn't tired yet, didn't need my Ulfr to win the fight. But if she wanted to, she could have ended it right then and there. One strike with her sword would fell the queen, and we could be out and free in minutes. I frowned, trying to catch Mika's eye as I circled the queen again.
No luck.
With no help from Mika, I forced my attention back to my attacker, assessing the best way to end this skirmish. And I soon came full circle, back to the one thing I'd sworn I wouldn't do. Thor's words hit me like Mjölnir to my skull: "You must kill the queen. Decapitate her."
Ugh. No way. Heads and bodies were just meant to stay together, thanks.
I wanted to find another way, anything to avoid that awful act. I'd intended to get in, get the goblet and get right out. But things never seemed to go according to my plan.
The queen lunged forward, one blade missing my cheek by a hairsbreadth, the other nicking the dark leather of my jacket. That did it. I had to end it. Back in Asgard, the idea of assassinating her had revolted me, but right now, it was becoming increasingly clear that I'd have to end this awful queen's life in order to save mine.
I studied Queen Huld as she ran through her repertoire, pushed her to see what moves she'd respond with, then retreated to watch how she attacked. And I soon found a way past her defenses.
Lunging forward, I thrust hard, and the queen deflected. But the impact of my long solid blade on her short curved one sent her backpedalling. And sent a strange and animalistic need surging through me. I watched her, emotionless, knowing exactly what would happen before it did.
The wild wind-milling of her arms shifted her wig. One inch too much. With her line of sight hampered, the queen struggled to shove strands of hair out of her eyes with the heel of her hand. She didn't see me spin around, didn't see me land on a balled foot and swing wide in a low arc.
Too late she shoved the hair aside, in time to see the blade close in. Unable to avoid the deadly edge, the queen stilled, eyes bulging with horror as my blade bit into the skin of her neck.
I expected the blade to stick, to shudder against her leathery skin and her evil bones, but the sharp edge slid through her body like a knife through a slice of cheesecake. A little resistance, but not enough to stop the infinitely sharp blade in its tracks.