Epilogue Excerpt...

.... Bale slid from her, licking her neck as the bite marks closed and he brought both hands to cup her face, his lips taking hers as her feet touched down and she grinned lasciviously, stepping from the wall.

“Your need has been great of late, minn sal.” Vale trailed the tips of her razored nails across the milky white skin of his chest, leaving behind a fine line of his black blood, the cut sealing before she finished.

“Must you travel today.” He growled, grabbing and pulling her back to him. “My need of you is always great.”

She slipped out of his arms, crossing the room and tossing the Varkyk cape over a fur floor cushion. “Goldar is expecting me for a matter of importance,” she cast a cautioning gaze over her shoulder. “and mothir is aware.”

He gave a nod and pulled on a long-sleeved leather tunic, securing a fur wrap over it at his waist and fastening both with a wide armored belt. “You will return directly?”

Vane slipped a sheer silver dressing gown over her alabaster skin, and slid her feet into supple white Paruk hide boots. She lifted a sleek ivory fur cape from a rack of ironwood hooks and curved it around her shoulders, securing the clips across her chest and freeing her lengths of hair. “I will tend to business.” She smiled assuredly.

Bale escorted her on the long walk down the myriad of spiraling gray passages, growling his approval as draugars scrambled to pause their work and kneel at the sight of the royals. Nidavellir, the great ironwood city and home of the draugar, was the stronghold of Niflheim, the realm of ice and mist, and the gateway to Helheim, the realm of the dead. While their mother, Hel, existed primarily in Eljudnir, her vast palace of ice in Helheim, the twins governed Nidavellir with their four remaining Niflung siblings. Their standing had increased after the death of their second oldest sibling, Trann, following his demise over a century ago at the hand of the petulant Aesir god, Thor. But that fatal error, and numerous ruinous occupations by the imperious gods of the upper realms, would soon be avenged.

Bale left her side only after sharing a hungry kiss at the entrance to the bridge Gjallarbru, assisting her onto the carriage where Nael joined her. The protective alfgar bowed with reverence to Bale, then seated himself at her feet before the demon stallion carried them across. Morgud, the grim giantess sworn to protect the gates of the city, trumpeted her respect as the carriage passed through. The ride was short, and once at the portal tunnel, Vane was pleased to find the ice passages clear and easy to navigate. After a steady pace, they stopped at the first landing where only those with the blood of a god were free to Vegrfara. Vane lifted the cackling alfgar by the collar of his tunic and closed her thumb and index finger around the stone of black jet at her jugular notch, speaking the words in Nifhel to transport them. In a blink they’d arrived.

She frowned as she set down her pet. The heat never failed to annoy her. Vane stepped with Nael from the portal entrance into the fading orange light, cursing the give of the sand beneath their feet and the dust already clinging to her boots. If the dark elf king wasn’t crucial to their designs, she would never set foot on Svarthalheim....