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“You’re suggesting we do elven magic?”

“I am.”

“How?”

“Like they do. Symbols. Runor. Spells in or on the doll.” She pointed at the bracelet on my wrist. “We already know some. We can learn more.”

I ran a finger over the beads, lingering with the tip on the dark green one. The one Lilja had told me kept your loved ones in your heart. Falun was a detour from here to Norstad, and I only had seven days. It was worth a try, though, wasn’t it? I had nothing else than my skills honed in the last twenty years. Even if Stali hadn’t had his magic, he was centuries old. I was at a cruel disadvantage.

I stood. “All right.”

“Let’s go,” Helena said. “We’ll drive through the nights, taking turns. One of us will sleep, one will have the reins while the third holds the rifle. We might have to keep away wolves—and hopefully the real ones.”

We set off down the mountain. The sun, a muted white disc behind the clouds, was past its zenith. This time of the year, that meant it would be dark soon, and I wanted to at least be off the mountain by then. The rest had done the horses good, and they walked well—helped by the decline of the path.

After a quick stop at the village to buy provisions, we continued through the valley. We ate as we went, Alma handing us food and Helena and I eating one-handed on the bench.

Alma chewed a piece of sausage. “Let’s consider this. What would impress an elf?”

“Magic. Powerful magic like Alfrun’s.”

“But would it truly? Isn’t the allure of her magic fear? Stali’s an artisan. He must appreciate simple beauty too. Likeness to life, elegance, that sort of thing.” She handed Helena a chunk of bread before she continued. “When I saw the doll at that nobleman’s estate in Stockholm, it drew my eye, and I’m sure it wasn’t because of the symbol hidden behind its smock. She was the most beautiful thing in that room, and it was stocked full of treasures.”

“Stali’s very skilled.”

“But he could have made it ugly. He could have mocked Lilja by making the doll grotesque. Like that nutcracker you have, the troll one. It would serve the same purpose of condemning Lilja to an eternity of apathy. Stali didn’t, though. He appreciates beauty in itself.”

“But it won’t be enough.”

“It won’t, and that’s why we’re going to Falun.”

Soon after we entered the forest beyond the valley, darkness fell, and Alma lit the lamp. I offered to take the first turn at the reins—I wasn’t going to sleep anyway. Not when I could think of nothing but Lilja. Was she cold? Was she in pain? Did she truly believe I would be back for her?

Helena stayed next to me while Alma lay down to rest in the back so she might take over later. We sat in silence, and I pondered what Alma had said. Beauty. But what was beauty to an elf? Was it darkness? Was it cold? Was it things that gleamed and shone and glinted? Gold and gems like in the children’s tales about the greedy dwarves?

No. Those stylized depictions of swirls and ropes, they were meant to emulate branches, weren’t they? Like the trees that had first given life—ash and elm. Things growing. Living things. Not stone and rock. There were the carvings of wolves and ravens on Alfrun’s throne too, the floor of the hall laid like a flowery meadow. Despite living below ground, they seemed to yearn to surround themselves with life.

Helena lifted the rifle from her lap and pointed it ahead. I followed the direction of the barrel. On the path sat… well, a big cat. The long fur at the tips of its ears was black and its coat golden with dark spots. Its yellow eyes rested on us with a calm that made me shiver.

I reined in. The horses had noticed the beast too, no doubt smelling its scent, and they snorted and stomped their feet. Behind us, the blankets rustled as Alma sat up.

“Is that a lynx?” I asked.

Helena shook her head. “That’s no true lynx. They’re notoriously shy. One would never come this close to us.”

“A shape-shifter, then.”

She raised her voice. “Reveal yourself, you bastard.”

As we watched, the lynx changed shape, and Hrafn stood where it had been. He was in a plain brown cloak that looked like that of a farmer. It was only his lean face under the pulled-up hood that resembled the finely dressed courtier he had been a few hours ago.

“What do you want?” Helena sneered. “We made a bargain with your queen.”

He took a step toward us. “That’s exactly why I’ve come.”

“What do you mean?” Alma asked, kneeling between us.

“I mean,” he said with another step, “that the bargain you made is a losing one. Stali’s a proud man. It doesn’t matter what you present to him. He’ll find some fault with it for no other reason that it didn’t come from his own hands.”