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“Alfrun’s aunt must have had supporters?” Alma said.

“She did. They keep quiet. The ones that didn’t were in the dungeons with me.”

When I glanced back, Alma was tapping a finger to her lip. “She’s like Caligula,” she said. “Or maybe even like Gustav the Third. An absolute sovereign who rules through fear.”

Helena had been quiet, but now she spoke. “If Alfrun’s magic is so powerful, why did it take her so long to find you? The snowstorms, the frost flowers. Those meant she was near, didn’t it? And Selma saw her. But still she didn’t find you for weeks.”

“Her senses weaken around humans,” Lilja said. “A town is like a shield. That’s why I went into Norstad.” She pointed ahead. “There it is,” she said. “The entrance to the mountain.”

I followed the direction of her finger to a spot that looked like any other. Vemund and the soldier, however, had stopped beside it, and as I watched, the smooth, white snow transformed into a gaping black hole.

Chapter Thirty

Ireined in and helped Lilja down from the bench. There was nowhere to tie up the horses right by the mountain’s entrance, so I unhitched them both and brought them over to a small, gnarled tree that was impossible to identify without its leaves. Alma fed each some oats as I tied them to the puny trunk. Lilja stayed close to me while Helena, with the rifle in her hands, glared at Vemund and the soldier.

Back at the sleigh, I set to covering the crates and suitcases with the blankets since there wasn’t much else I could do to protect our things.

“Just leave them,” Vemund said with a wrinkle of his thin nose. “No one’s going to want your trash.”

I almost protested, arguing that some easily tempted soul might walk by, until I remembered what the little girl in the village had said. Only elves were up here, and apparently they would only scoff at our measly possessions.

Vemund nodded at the rifle that Helena still held. “Leave that here.”

“Why?”

“Weapons aren’t allowed inside the mountain.”

Alma pointed at the spear in the soldier’s hand. “Will he leave this out here then?”

Vemund’s jaw tensed. “You’re a quarrelsome lot.”

“We aim to be,” Helena said. “Why can’t I bring it if he can?”

“Because you’re a guest.”

“It sounds more like we’ll be prisoners.”

Anger passed over Vemund’s face. Helena was doing quite an excellent job at annoying him. “You’re not coming inside with it, so put it down.”

Helena looked to me, and I nodded. We had come to make a bargain with Alfrun, and we wouldn’t do that standing outside her halls with a rifle. Helena stuffed it under the blankets in the sleigh, and we all turned toward the gaping hole in the side of the mountain.

“Are you ready?” I whispered to Lilja.

Her nod was both pained and determined. I took her arm. Beside us, Helena and Alma were holding hands, and together we stepped from the gray December light and into the darkness. Vemund led the way with long, hurried strides while the soldier made up the rear, walking behind us. With his spear. I didn’t like being trapped between them.

The walls of the tunnel were smooth as polished marble, and how in the world had they done this? No tool that I knew could do something like it—and certainly not chisels or dynamite. About ten steps in, the daylight died behind us. I glanced back. The entrance had closed. We were trapped by magic at the mercy of Alfrun. I pulled Lilja closer to my side. Her hand trembled when she dropped it from my arm and took hold of my fingers.

Lamps in sconces cast circles of light on the walls, although they weren’t lit. Not in the sense that I knew, anyway, with a flame, a wick, and kerosene. Instead, behind the glass was a glow and not a flicker. Like an ember and then not at all because the color of the light had an unusually bright whiteness. Magic. It had to be.

We walked in silence, and it seemed like hours passed, but it could have been far less because I lost my sense of time passing with the surroundings being so repetitive. There were no twists or turns, just a gradual downward slope. Perhaps it was my imagination, the knowledge that we were below tons and tons of rock, but it felt like the temperature dropped as we descended. The air, when I pulled it into my chest, had a thickness to it.

Finally, things around us started to change. The tunnel grew wider and higher, the roof now hanging so high above us it was cloaked in shadow. Something appeared ahead, and I squinted into the darkness. It was metal and very large with a dull gleam in the light from the strange lamps. Double doors. Copper or bronze, as far as I could tell, and each three times my height. Intricate swirls and symbols were etched into the surface, and I had to admit they had a certain, slender beauty.

Vemund didn’t stop. He held up his hand, and the doors opened, sliding silently on their hinges.

Lilja did stop. She was paler than ever when I turned to her. I stepped in front of her, shielding her from the others. “It’ll be all right.”

“You can’t know that.”