I chose something a little nicer than normal for dinner. Maybe because I was supposed to be meeting with Surtr and his tactician later that night, or maybe because it felt like Loki had only seen me in sweaty horse clothes lately. Whatever the reason, I picked a loose fitting red dress that rippled like water around my legs. My hair I left down, unsure of what else to do with it. When I emerged from the bedroom the hallways were empty, and I could hear music and chatter far away down the other end of the castle. Everyone must be at dinner already. The dress rustled softly as I hurried down the hallway, taking the stairs as quickly and carefully as I could. The last thing I wanted to do was trip and fall on my face, showing up to Surtr’s planning meeting with a black eye would be really embarrassing.

The noise grew louder as I neared the great hall. There was only one guard at the door tonight, and he drew the heavy wooden door open for me, still staring straight ahead, eyes flickering up and down the corridor. I’d noticed that all the guards seemed more tense the last two days. Clearly they were hyped for battle, or expecting an attack earlier. Maybe they thought the Queen and her men would pop up in the castle out of nowhere. I swept past the grim faced guard and into the great hall. A chaotic jumble of noise enveloped me immediately. The musicians by the fire were playing the fiddle ,harp and flute, but the music was just in the background. If I’d learned one thing about fire giants so far, it was that they were a louder group of people than anyone I’d ever met. They laughed and yelled at one another, clanking their wine goblets noisily on the table to make a point, or thumping their fists on the table. Nothing was subtle about these people, and I liked them better for it.

I wove my own pathway through the tables, noticing with growing unease that many of the fire jotun trailed off mid-shout, or stopped banging their fists to stare. In fact, a lot of them were staring at me as I walked by. What was going on? Did I look stupid in the dress? Blood rushed to my cheeks, making me feel like my skin was on fire. I felt a little sick, and quickened my pace, desperate to get to the table where my friends were sitting. At first I couldn’t find them. It was hard to pick them out of all the other tall blonde rebels and dark fire jotun, but I finally spotted the back of Loki’s dark curls, and the familiar slope of his broad shoulders. I made a beeline for him, and mid-dash he turned in his seat. Loki’s brown eyes widened, and my stomach sank. Not him too. What on earth were they all staring at?

By the time I reached them they were all turned to look at me. I skidded to a halt, and finally spat out, “What?”

Loki’s look of shock slowly turned into a smile, his eyes glinted, “you’re sparkling.”

Horror jolted through me, “What? I got them all off!”

I brushed at my arms frantically, but Loki was shaking his head. He reached up and placed one hand on my shoulder, eyes full of wonder. His fingers were hot on my skin, and instantly I could feel the little beads of ice that I’d missed melt under his hand, “that’s amazing.”

“Cool!” Charlotte piped up, “you’re like a human disco ball!”

I gave her a narrow look, “thanks.”

I reached up and pawed at my other shoulder, but Loki stood up and caught my hand, holding it tightly, “no, it looks beautiful. You look beautiful.”

I was very aware of the heat of his grip, and how is eyes were fixed on me like he was completely riveted. I ducked my head in embarrassment and tugged my hand out of his grip, “come on, let’s sit down.”

I darted a look over my shoulder. Most of the jotun had gone back to their noisy discussions and knocking of ale mugs, thank god. Turning back, I caught Erik staring at me from across the table, eyes wide. I pointed at my shoulder and mouthed the words, “I need to talk to you.”

He nodded, still looking completely awe struck. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and snatched the wooden mug in front of me, taking a huge draught of ale. The bitter taste made me cringe. It was horrible, but right now I felt like I needed it. I was uncomfortably aware that the girls had gone back to chatting and laughing together, but Loki was still stealing sideways glances at me. I buried my face in the mug again, hoping that he couldn’t see how red my face was.

The noise of the hall trickled away suddenly as a louder, more insistent noise reached us from outside. Someone was blowing a horn, frantically, unceasingly. The noise of the hall suddenly went from laughter and music to a panicked buzz. Surtr shot up out of his chair, followed by Angela, his tactician. There was the fierce ring of metal as they both drew their swords. They made for the doors, and the fire jotun seemed to take this as their cue, some drawing swords if they had them, filling the hall with the raspy noise of steel, some running for the doors, crying out to one another to ready the troops. Erik bolted upright, face full of horror, “they’re here,” he said, “they’re attacking early.”

Loki shoved his chair back, “Then we will meet them. We’re ready.”

I looked down at myself in panic. The Queen was here, attacking the castle and I was supposed to fight her. I was wearing a stupid sparkly dress and no sword. Why had I tried to look pretty tonight? I was so stupid. Sure, when the Queen comes at me I’ll just sparkle her to death, great plan!

The others were all rushing for the door, and I turned and ran after them, the skirts flowing around my legs no longer thrilled me. Now they were just in the way, and I reached down and yanked them up so I could run faster. Surtr led the way up a flight of stairs that eventually opened up into a large tower with a huge brass bell in the center and I breathed deeply as we emerged into the frigid winter air. There were no walls up here, allowing us to see the dizzying height we were at. I looked down at the snowy ground thousands of feet below me and had to swallow hard and tell myself to breath properly. A flurry of snowflakes made it hard to see, but I think we were on the far right side of the castle, on one of the huge peeks that stretched into the sky. Below me I could see the winding path up to the castle, covered with snow, the jagged grey rocks jutting out here and there.

The horn sounded again, from the twin tower on the other side of us. The sound was deep and primal, turning my blood to ice water. The cause of the warning was obvious. An army of huge, dark shapes was making its way up the twisted pathway below. I squinted, leaning forward with my hands on the top of the short stone wall, my fingers digging into the snow that decorated the stones. What was that? They weren’t jotun, that was obvious. They were too dark and low to the ground. They traveled up the pathway in one long, never ending line.

Surtr stood beside me, and when he leaned on the wall the snow hissed under his hands, melting instantly. “What is this?” He growled.

Angela stood on his other side, apparently steadfast. Her body was relaxed and easy, but there was a light in her eye, something that made me think she was not so removed as she looked, “They’re too far away to see, but we’ll know soon.”

The horn sounded again. I realized that its purpose was as much to warn our enemy that we know they were here, as it was to alert us. There was tense silence on top of the tower. Just the all-consuming quiet that accompanied falling snow. The jotun stood perfectly still, the fire jotun’s breath rising in clouds above their heads, slowly melting the snow around them. I leaned forward again, straining to see the black shapes moving through the snow. Who were they? What approached us? I could make out several smaller shapes at the front of the line. People.

Frost jotun. They must be. My stomach plummeted. They were here to attack us. But what were the huge dark shapes behind them? Gradually the advancing army climbed higher, and the snow began falling more slowly, in thick flakes that did less to obscure our vision. Finally we could see what was making its way up the mountain toward us.

Wolves.





“Wolves approaching!”

Someone called it out before I could. Surtr spun and ran for the stairs, his sword flashing in his hand, “I’ll be damned if the stinkin’ sons of Fenrir think they can attack us!”

The rest of us followed, our feet stamping on the stairs, tracking melting snow inside. Someone stepped on the bottom of my dress and I pulled on it bad temperedly, yanking it up around my knees. We thundered down the hallway, down several flights of stairs until we were panting and out of breath. At last we were emerging out into the courtyard, crossing the open space to the great stone wall that protected the castle. Surtr waved his sword at the gaurds at the gate,

“Open the ruddy gate, I’ll go out to them myself!”

The guards obeyed without question, yanking on the iron handles, and the door slowly creaked open. Sutr shot through as soon as the crack between doors was big enough for him, and Angela followed after, sword at the ready. Sutr stopped just in front of the gate, planting his feet firmly in the melting snow, one hand on his hip, the other gripping the handle of his huge broadsword.

“Come on, ye scurvy kittens! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Silence greeted this challenge, the snow was falling thick again, and it was hard to see more then fifteen feet in front of you. Slowly dark shapes began to emerge, and the sight sent prickles of alarm down my spine. There were too many of them. They were too big. My hand automatically strayed to my hip, but there was no katana there. I cursed my poor wardrobe decisions.

A voice came out of the flurry of snow, a deep baritone that reached us from a distance,

“Greetings, King Surtr.”

Surtr grunted and raised his sword as a tall, slender shape appeared, moving closer. It was not a wolf, but a man. A frost jotun. As he came closer I could make out the leather jerkin he wore, and the chainmail that covered his arms and chest. His sword was sheathed at his side. His head was uncovered, and long, wavy blonde hair spilled over his shoulders, framing a slender face with wide grey eyes.

I jumped when something barreled into my shoulder, pushing me out of the way. To my astonishment Charlotte was running past me, arms pinwheeling. Her cry rang out in the still air,

“Davin!”