Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
"Faen," Reaper swears violently, his eyes narrowed. "You're saying a Fae warrior and a Valkyrie ran away from Valhalla together and were living here on earth."
"I don't know for sure, but I think so," I whisper.
"That's not possible," Adriel growls, immediately dismissing the idea as impossible.
"Why not?" Abigail asks.
"A Fae doesn't survive the death of his mate," Damrion murmurs.
"He didn't survive," Malachi says.
I gulp, staring at the ground as tears blur my field of vision. "As soon as her Light started fading, he just…stopped fighting. The Forsaken killed them both, and he didn't even try to stop them."
Malachi wraps his body around me, murmuring soothing words in my ear, but I don't want to be comforted, not this time.
"The Forsaken didn't even look in my direction," I whisper. "It's like they knew she was the threat in the room, not me. They wanted her out of the way first." My bottom lip quivers. "She knew she was going to die when she showed up at my door, but she came anyway. She needed you to know they were coming so badly that she sacrificed herself to make it happen."
"Faen," Reaper whispers, rocking back on his heels.
His mate's cheeks are wet as she stares at me, empathy in her gaze.
"I think she's right," Abigail whispers, slipping her hand into Adriel's. "The Valkyrie didn't fall when Valhalla did. The last Valkyrie and her warrior were right here, protecting this realm."
I nod. "That's why it took them so long to find us. They kept us hidden. At least, they kept me hidden." I wipe tears from my cheeks. "When I was little, I lived with my father. I'd forgotten about it, buried the memories, I guess. But I still had dreams…"
"Dreams?" Abigail searches my face, curiosity sparking in her gaze.
"Monsters." I whisper. "Awful, evil men who hunted me, trying to hurt me." I swallow audibly. "I thought they were just dreams, but they were memories of the night I saw three Forsaken attacking him in our living room. That was the last time I saw my father until the night he and my mother showed up at my house to warn me…"
"Oh, Marion." Abigail darts forward across the dais, flinging her arms around me in a fierce hug. Tori and Rissa hurry behind her, enveloping me in a wall of support.
Malachi releases me, giving us a moment as he crosses to his brothers, murmuring with them.
"They gave you up to protect you," Rissa whispers, clinging to my hand.
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. It kills me that I forgot him, forgot that I was loved and wanted. But I went into foster care when I was four, just a little girl outside a hospital with a note in her pocket asking someone to keep her safe. I didn't even speak the first two years because I was so traumatized. Everyone assumed it was because of how I was found. Eventually, I guess I learned to believe the same thing. I forgot the truth and accepted the human version of events.
I think their version might be kinder. At least it doesn't involve monsters.
"Valkyrie."
We break apart as Malachi motions for me to join him and his brothers. I reluctantly head his way, my stomach churning with anxiety.
He reaches for my hand as soon as I'm close, pulling me up against his side. "It's all right, ljúfr," he murmurs, his lips against my ear. "Damrion just has a few questions."
Damrion—the regal Fae with kind eyes.
I glance in his direction, trying not to fidget under the weight of his scrutiny.
"Do you know your mother's name, ást-meer?" he asks, his voice soft.
"My father called her Randgríðr."
Surprise flickers in Damrion's eyes. It echoes in the faces of his brothers. For long moments, no one says anything.
"Randgríðr," Adriel finally murmurs. "She disappeared during the battle for Álfheimr."
"Ja," Damrion agrees.
"You k-knew her?" I ask, my voice shaking.
Damrion nods. "She was a powerful Valkyrie, fierce in battle." His gaze drifts across my face. "Very wise."
"Very bossy," Reaper says dryly, earning a snort from Adriel.
"Ja. You would think so," Malachi says. "You were never good at listening."
Reaper blanches, narrowing his eyes at Malachi. "I seem to recall her threatening to remove certain parts of your body the day you decided to inform the Valkyrie that they were no longer allowed out of Valhalla without asking permission."
"Forgot about that," Malachi mutters, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.
I just stare at them in awe. They really knew my mother. They fought with her, watched over her. It seems impossible. Until now, Malachi has seemed so human to me, larger than life, but still human. He isn't though. He's thousands of years old, immortal. He's lived more lifetimes, seen more than I can even wrap my head around.
"Do you know your father's name, Marion?" Damrion asks, still studying me. He's quieter than the other Fae, more focused. I think he's their leader.