Court of Monsters and Malice (The Shadow Bound Queen, #3)

by Eliza Raine

“Ravens call and serpents hiss, All hidden by starlight’s kiss. Violence and vanity, Echoes of lost sanity. No war cries or raised blades Sully these shores or glades. Shadows keep the isle free, Thor’s talisman is the key. Accession or marriage, Royal blood earns passage.” “Quick, write it down,” I said.

I was inside the trunk of Yggdrasil, but everything was so gloomy I could barely see. There were steps rising out of the water, between two set of Court doors, but I couldn’t make out which ones.

I was high up this time. Still inside the tree, looking down over the heads of the enormous central statues from a small, earthy platform. Vertigo took me, and very real nausea clenched my throat. The darkness lifted, the dead king’s armory coming back into focus. “The tree,” I murmured. “Yggdrasil.”

A huge, bearded man with dozens of braids was on his knees in front of me, fierce concentration lining his beautiful fae face. The gloom was hard to see through, but he was closing something. A chest?

“So, superiorly intellectual one,” I greeted him. “How do you think we should get onto the impossible island? Find another way, or recreate the talisman?” “You must find the original talisman. It was made by the gods. You can not recreate it.” He clicked his beak.

“This will be a test of both wit and strength.” My stomach squished nervously as I glanced around for clues. Wit, I might stand a chance, strength, much less so. “I will give you no instruction, save to say that if your repairs are not made in time, you do not want to remain inside.”

“No, it is simpler than the others. I run forever, but do not move at all, I have no lungs or throat but a roaring call.” “An animal?” “No, it can’t be. Animals move and have lungs.” “It is a waterfall.” I looked at Voror, then repeated his very smug words to Mazrith. Slowly, we both looked at the epic waterfall behind the statues.

There was golden tree, a foot tall and made in the image of the tree of Yggdrasil. A giant snake wrapped around its trunk, and instead of five gates around the base, there were eight. Inscriptions in ancient runes ran out like roots from its base. “What do they say?” “There is one for each Court,” Mazrith murmured as he moved around the pedestal to read them all. “And the other three?” “One for the dwarves… One for the Vanir… and one for the Fenrir.”

'In my experience, the prettiest men are the best ones to avoid,' I told her. 'Now, what can I get you?'