Árdís slipped through the portal that led to her chambers, her ears still ringing.

The world around her remained silent. Someone had cleaned her rooms, and the silk spread on her bed gleamed. She barely saw it.

She was alone.

She'd been beaten down, the queen showing her just how easily it was to cut Árdís's rage out from under her. She'd seen the price of failure. Would they do that to her?

No.

A spark of hidden defiance beat within her chest like wings.

You will do your duty....

The words swam through her, like careless hands that tore through her will power, shredding it.

I'm sailing home. Forever. Unless you give me a reason to stay....

Haakon didn't know how much those words destroyed her. She couldn't go to him. She'd get him killed. She'd get them both killed. She'd seen what they did to those who thwarted them. If she mated with Sirius—

I cannot.

Silence finally reigned in her head. The press of all her conflicted emotions thickened in her throat. The dreki within seemed to hold its breath.

"I cannot stay," she whispered, so softly she could barely hear the words herself, but they filled her from within, smoothing out all of the wretched hollows within her. Flooding her with certainty, with rage, with a sudden decisive intention.

The words seemed to break some sort of spell.

Suddenly, it was all so clear.

If she died, then was it not worth it, for the merest taste of freedom? She couldn't go on living like this, and it had taken both Haakon's reappearance in her life, and the scene in the throne room to make her realize that.

The cage walls seemed to shatter around her, and suddenly she felt like she could take on the world.

Árdís broke into action, stripping her shimmering dress down her body, and tearing open her trunks. She dug through them, discarding silks and velvets, hunting for her fighting leathers, for something warm. She couldn't wear the leathers when she left court—if anyone saw her they'd wonder what she was about—so she dressed herself swiftly in a green wool dress that wouldn't draw any eyes, nor rouse any suspicions. Spare clothing went into the pack she carried when she flew, so she'd have something to wear when she landed.

Once she got this bracelet off.

What else did she need?

A sword. Marduk's sword. The one he'd left for her when she helped him escape, knowing that her brother's defiance had caught the eye of their uncle.

Didn't even say goodbye.... Árdís bared her teeth. She hadn't been ready. She'd been afraid, drawing the cage door shut herself. No more. She was done with hiding her hopes and dreams. Done with bowing to her mother's whims.

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't mate with Sirius, knowing her husband was out there somewhere. And she couldn't throw herself into Haakon's arms with her mother's threats whispering in her ears.

She'd never forgive herself if her actions led to Haakon's death.

But perhaps there was a middle path. A chance for freedom from Sirius, and a means to live her life alone.

There was one place she could flee to, where her mother would not dare follow.

She turned to gather the sword, when the portal opened and a hooded figure appeared.

Malin paused, her brown eyes widening when she saw the pack. Then she swiftly closed the portal that led to the court behind her.

"You're leaving?"

"I can't.... I—" Árdís's shoulders slumped. "I cannot go through with this. I cannot mate with him."

Malin hurried toward her. "You saw what she did to Marek! If you're captured—"

"Then it is worth it, for the few minutes of freedom." She captured Malin's hands. "You don't understand."

"I know the Blackfrost is not of your choice." Malin shuddered. "He wouldn't be mine either. But he's not as blatantly cruel as his father or his brothers. And he's the only one who can protect you. It would be a reasonable alliance for you."

"I'm already married," she blurted.

Malin sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"

Malin's mother had been human. She'd lived among her mother's family for fifteen years, before power began to whisper through her veins. Unable to shift, she could still light a fire with a snap of her fingers, and so she'd come to court, to find her father and learn to control her elemental magic.

She knew what marriage meant.

Árdís withdrew the chain from her dress. The ring dangled on the end of it, spinning in swift circles. Slowly, she poured the ring into her palm. "When I fled court the first time, there was a man." She closed her eyes. "I loved him. With all my heart. I thought I'd found a place for myself, until my mother sent her nephews to hunt me down. I had to leave him. I didn't dare let my mother know."

Her fingers curled over the ring.

"I thought I could forget him. I thought I could survive the loss of him, as long as I knew he lived. But he's found me. And I cannot go through with this mating bond." Her eyes turned warm. "I cannot do this, Malin. My dreki won't allow it."

Malin let out a slow sigh. "Oh, Princess."

"Come with me," she whispered, holding her handmaid's hands. Malin had been her only friend at court. Her mother watched so carefully she did not dare walk among the other drekling, or venture into the lower halls, where those dreki who'd been her father's faithful warriors tended to reside.

Malin shook her head. "I cannot. My father is here. My younger sister. I have nowhere else to go."

"You could join me. I'm sure my—"

Malin slammed a hand over her mouth. "Don't you dare. If I know nothing of your plans, then I cannot share them."

They stared at each other, and Malin slowly lowered her hand. "I already know too much."

"They'll question you," Árdís said, her mind racing.

"Which is why you need to make it clear I wasn't part of this plan."

A ruthless proposition, but a wise one. She nodded. "Help me pack."

It was easier with Malin by her side. Nobody would think anything of seeing her walking the halls. The drekling handmaid slipped back into the court, and returned with a flask of water and food to eat.

"How are you going to sneak out?" Malin whispered. "They'll see you in the skies."

"Unfortunately not." She showed Malin the manacle and explained her sudden deficiencies. "I'm going to try and free Andri from the dungeons. If he's in any condition to fly, then he can help me. If not, I'll use the Reykjavik portal." She slung the pack over her shoulders.

"Good luck." Malin hugged her. "I hope you find your husband, and live a happy life with him."

Árdís's smile waned.

"If I run to him, then they will follow. And they will find him. I dare not stay with him."

Malin took a deep breath and stepped back, presenting Árdís with the ropes. "Please don't put me in the trunk. I don't like the dark."

"You are my only friend," she said, kissing the drekling woman's cheek. "I will never forget you. I will never—"

She slammed a psychic assault through Malin's mind, knocking her unconscious in an instant. Malin slumped into her arms, but she'd wake within the hour. Árdís set to work, making sure she tied Malin's hands and feet tightly before gagging her, and leaving her in the middle of the bed.

Time to leave.

There was one dreki who could help her, and demand not a thing from her. One dreki whose territory the others would not dare enter. She'd be safe there. She'd have her freedom, even if she dared not have her heart.

Rurik had spoken of debts.

Well, now he owed her one himself. If he'd kept his mouth shut, then she'd never be in this predicament.

She was finally going to see her brother again, after all these years.

But first, she needed to track down a certain husband of hers and get this bloody manacle off her wrist so she could fly.

* * *

In for a penny, in for a pound...

If she was going to betray her mother, then she might as well do some good while she was at it.

With the manacle still locked around her wrist, Árdís had little choice but to make her way to the lower levels of the court, using the passages the servant drekling used. There was a portal down here, available for those drekling like Malin, who couldn't manage the shift to dreki form. One step through, and she'd be within walking distance to Reykjavik. Nobody from the higher echelons of the court would see her go—she'd be surprised if any of them even knew the portal existed—and the servants dared not rouse the wrath of the queen.

Her heart hammered even as her boots slapped lightly against the rough, rock-hewn steps that tunneled down into the mountain. Haakon's bracelet made her vulnerable, but she couldn't remove it, so she might as well use it.

Nobody would expect her to flee in human form.

And nobody would expect her to break prisoners out of the dungeon while she was at it.

She kept smelling the stink of burning flesh. Tomorrow night, they would burn the drekling, Marek, on a bonfire for the sheer audacity in backing his prince. Árdís's heart beat fiercely. She didn't have time for this side excursion, but she knew she'd never be able to look herself in the mirror if she didn't try to do something to save him. And then there was Andri, her favorite cousin, who had been involved in Magnus's death. While she didn't think Stellan would kill him for his betrayal, there was a small part of her that wasn't entirely certain.

Her footsteps slowed as she reached the dungeons. There were only two prisoners at the moment and so she hoped the guard detail was light.

Her luck held. A swift glance around the corner of the hallway revealed a single dreki guard slumped in a chair as he picked at his fingernails.

Now or never. Her breath caught. If she was captured here, before she could even escape the court....

You can do this.

Summoning every inch of hauteur, Árdís dipped her gloved hand into the leather pouch at her belt and withdrew a small glass vial. She'd been thinking of how to disarm the guard for the last hour, but Malin had been the one to provide her with the means. All she had to do was get close enough. Árdís strode out into the hallway as if she owned every right to be there.

The guard noticed her instantly. A trickle of sweat dripped down her spine as she approached and he eased to his feet, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His gaze flickered behind her, and then back.

"Are you going to apprehend me?" she mocked.

He blinked at her.

"The sword," she said. "Do you intend to draw it upon me?"

"No." He ripped his hand off the hilt.

"No?"

"Princess." A faint begrudging nod.

Árdís stopped directly in front of him, arching a brow. He stared at her for a moment, then realized she intended for him to step out of the way.

"May I ask—"

"Am I not allowed to visit my cousin?" she demanded. Her mother had insisted she stay away from Andri, but what guard would know that? She vaguely recognized him as one of her mother's lickspittles. There were more than a few dreki who'd joined the court only in recent years, outcast from their own clans, but welcomed by the queen.

"The queen's orders, princess." His gaze turned flinty. "Nobody may enter without her permission."

"Do you think I am here without her blessing?" Árdís laced her tone with pure petulant incredulity. She stepped right up to him, her gloved hand curling around her prize. "I'm her daughter. Her own blood. How dare you question my boundaries."

"I was told—"

"To turn away the court heir?" she sneered.

"No, but—"

"What is your name?" Árdís raked him with an arrogant glare. "I will be sure to mention it to her the next time I see her."

His lips thinned. "Claus, your highness."

"Now get out of my way so I might visit my cousin."

Claus's eyes slowly narrowed. "If her highness would allow me the opportunity to speak... then she would know her cousin is not held within the dungeons. Perhaps the queen failed to mention this when she granted you permission to visit?"

Sweet goddess. Árdís's bravado faltered for a single moment. "Andri's not in the dungeons?"

"He's been contained elsewhere."

What was she going to do? Rescuing her cousin was out of the question. Suspicion already gleamed in Claus's eyes, though he most likely thought her merely up to some mischief. She could hardly demand to know where Andri was.

But she could still save Marek.

So be it.

Árdís sighed a little petulantly. "A shame, really."

Then she threw the contents of the small vial in her hand into Claus's face.

The blood of a leviathan. Rare and extremely dangerous to dreki. She didn't have time to wonder how Malin had gotten her hands on it. He screamed and clapped a hand to his face, as if burned by acid, and Árdís spun past him and slammed the hilt of her dagger into the base of his skull.

Claus slumped to the floor, and Árdís glanced around, panting hard. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Nothing moved.

The door to the dungeons was locked, but she found the key on the ring at Claus's belt. By the time she'd opened it, he was starting to stir. Dreki males were incredibly difficult to injure. Grabbing him under the armpits, she hauled him through into the hallway beyond, and shut the door.

Whipping her leather belt loose from her waist, she bound his hands behind him, then opened one of the empty cells and hauled him inside.

Claus wheezed as she dropped him in the moldy straw. "P-princess?"

Árdís slammed the cell door shut and locked it, before she dared breathe easy. Nobody would hear him calling for help. The dungeons had been designed to stifle all noise. But who knew when the next guard rotation was planned?

Time to find Marek. All she had to do was follow her nose.

He was in the third cell down the hallway.

"Marek?" she called softly.

No answer, but she could hear someone shifting inside.

Árdís unlocked the door, and Marek scrambled to his feet, his hands bound to the wall as he squinted at her.

"Princess?" His brown eyes widened in shock.

"Hush." She hurried to his side, rifling through the keys for one small enough to fit the lock on his steel manacles. They hadn't even bothered with spell work, as if assured a mere drekling could not escape.

"What are you doing?" He slumped against his chains again, as if she presented no threat to him, and he no longer had to maintain any pretense at good health. The brand in the middle of his forehead looked angry and swollen, and he'd been beaten good and proper, by the way he held himself so stiffly.

She finally found the right key, and freed him from the manacles. "I'm getting you out of here."

"You're... what?" Marek rubbed at his wrists, but the first step he took ended in a limp. He stopped short, firelight gleaming in his eyes. "I can barely walk. If they catch you—"

"They're not going to catch me," she replied, with false bravado, as she slipped beneath his shoulder. "We're using the servant's portal."

"You're coming with me? Why are you doing this?"

Árdís flinched. Perhaps she'd played her part too well over the years. "Because I can no longer stand to watch my mother torment her people." Their eyes met. "You're not the only one who remembers what it was like when my father ruled this court. I'm not brave. I'm not strong enough to defy her—not openly. But perhaps there is another who can."

"The prince," he whispered, and hope flared to life in his eyes.

"Prince Rurik," she agreed, "but we need to hurry if we're going to have a chance to flee to his side."

They took a step and Marek's weight sagged against her.

"I'm sorry. Someone hit me in the shin with an iron bar." He was trying not to limp as they staggered out into the hallway, but it was clear he wouldn't be moving fast.

Árdís bit her lip. "I doubt anyone will see us."

She hoped.

Claus slammed against his cell door as they passed it, and Árdís stifled a small scream. Dust shivered around the doorframe. She hadn't counted on that. Dreki males were difficult to contain at the best of times, what with their inhuman strength and magic.

So she locked the main door to the dungeons behind them, just in case he did get free. Marek stared. "The cell won't hold him for long."

"I know. This way," Árdís said, and backtracked to the servant's passages, where it was dark and dreki would be few and far between. She found the bag and sword she'd left down here, and then paused by the healer's storeroom to steal a makeshift crutch for Marek and some healing balm for his burn.

"Thank you," he breathed, looking at her as if he'd never seen her before.

They could risk a little light here. Whispering in old Norse under her breath, she released the small spell Malin had taught her, and the emerald the girl had given her began to glow as she reached the darkest bowels of the catacombs. Purebred dreki like she had no need of spell craft when they could channel pure Fire, but those like Malin made do with spells. She'd never before had to consider what it would be like to live like the drekling.

Shunned by the purebreds. Considered less.

Made to serve the dreki and the court, or be ostracized forever.

Or worse, killed to keep the bloodlines pure.

Marek's fear ate away at her as they scuttled down the dark stairs. If they were captured, he'd be granted a particularly gruesome death, while she might escape such a sentence.

Almost there. The passage delivered her into the first of several wide cellars. Hurrying past barrels of wine and hanging slabs of dried meat, she ducked through another small passage, and found herself in the dark. Marek hopped along behind her, painstakingly slow. Her pulse hammered. The walls were rough-hewn here, as if carved by a pickaxe and not magic. The portal hummed somewhere ahead of her, but it felt like miles with Marek's hobbling gait. She couldn't resist slipping ahead, trying to scout for danger.

A shift of leather on stone alerted her to the fact she wasn't alone as she entered the next cellar. Árdís muted the light with a whisper.

"Don't move," she told Marek on a thought-thread. "I can hear someone."

Instantly she was plunged into darkness.

She wasn't alone, however. She could sense someone moving through the oppressive dark with whisper-silent feet. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she pressed her back to the wall, barely daring to breathe.

Fingers clicked.

Light suddenly burst into being as one by one the torches on the wall burst into flame.

"Who's there?" Árdís whispered, putting her hand to the hilt of her sword and blinking.

A mocking drawl lit through the cellar. "Well, if it isn't my sweet betrothed. Wherever can you be going, Árdís? Especially with a sword that doesn't belong to you, and a pack full of clothes."

Sirius dissolved from the shadows.