Crown of Crimson (Underworld Gods 2)

I narrow my eyes at the sound of his name. “Can you really tell though?”

“We’ll come back to that in a minute,” she says, and I’m amused at the way she’s trying to command me already. “Your ex-wife is insane. And powerful. And I don’t know what’s stopping her from getting a convoy together and going after Shadow’s End. Especially if she has magic on her side.”

“She has magic but it’s not always on her side,” I tell her. “Her magic is merely borrowed from Ilmarinen, her consort. I’ve heard the rumors about him, that she keeps him in a cage, barely keeping him alive, using special tools to drain the poor bastard’s blood and use that for magic. But that’s black magic and black magic sometimes has a mind of its own. It can turn on you.” A worry line forms between her brows. “There are wards up to keep Louhi out of Shadow’s End, if that’s your concern,” I go on. “If she was on her way to us, we would know it. Even if she shapeshifts.”

“She can shapeshift?” she says with widened eyes.

“Only for short periods of time.”

Her frown deepens and she sucks on her lower lip for a moment, which causes my blood to run hot again. “Hmmm. That might explain a lot.”

I’m not sure what she’s talking about, but I don’t press. I have a lot of questions for her as it is.

Eventually, once we pass over the Gorge of Despair, Sarvi tells me that it needs to rest. I don’t argue, though I want nothing more than to return to Shadow’s End, put my feet-up, and get one moment of rest and some good coffee before figuring out what to do with Hanna. Coffee seems like it would fix everything, the stronger, the better.

We land on the top of a rolling hill, brown grass waving in a wind I no longer control. In front of us, the tan hills undulate like a velvet snake all the way to the base of the Iron Mountains, where dark forests flank the base. Looking to where we’ve come from, the hills level out into the barren steppes of the Liekkiö Plains, the River of Shadows cutting a sharp swath through it.

I have an affection for this part of Tuonela, so much that I had my Deadhands build a secondary, smaller castle into the sides of the mountain. With the river passing in front, the black water dark yet calming in contrast to the smooth brown hills, it’s a home away from home. Which sounds mundane, but sometimes I want a little mundane. All my life I’ve been attracted to the darkness and chaos—there’s a reason why Shadow’s End is a gothic dream surrounded by the wildest seas—and yet there’s a small part of me that yearns for the light. That needs it. This land here is about as tranquil and bucolic as Tuonela gets. If I were ever to be happy again, I suppose the wide sky would be the clearest, brightest blue.

“Where are we?” Hanna asks as I dismount Sarvi, then reach for her waist and pull her off, placing her on the grass beside me. The breeze whips her hair across her face and I have to fight the urge to tuck it behind her ears.

“A resting place,” I tell her, flexing my hands at my side. “It’s not as spacious as Shadow’s End, nor does it have any of the amenities you’re used to. But it will give us shelter while Sarvi rests.”

It is a peaceful spot, Sarvi says wearily, giving its mane a good shake. You will be safe here, Hanna.

“Safe from who?” she says under her breath, giving me a loaded look. My fairy girl is still as feisty as ever, which makes me want to fight with her all day.

Safe from whom, Sarvi corrects her.

I’m about to grab Hanna’s elbow and guide her down the hill toward the castle—which is hidden in the mountainside—when her attention goes past me towards the river, a wash of fear on her brow.

“Looks like we have company,” she says grimly.

Chapter 8

Hanna

“The Son”

Death stares at me for a moment, his gray eyes curious under his mask, then finally turns his head. Oh to be a freaking God and not be afraid of anything. I mean, he literally just saw his demon ex-wife strangling me with her psycho-long tongue and he’s as cool as a cucumber, enough so that he was totally fine with stopping in the middle of nowhere without any protection.

And now someone else has shown up, probably to raise some sort of hell. At first, I can’t get a good look at them from where we are, just that it’s a tall figure in black with a bone-white skull face.

A freaking Bone Straggler? I think, immediately tensing, my body remembering the feel of their skeleton hands. Then I notice the boat in the wide river, tethered to the shore. There’s three tanned women on the boat, wearing bikinis, as if they’re on some influencer trip of the Underworld. The sight is so out of place and jarring, especially with the swimsuits’ neon colors, that all fear fades away.