A dual pov narrative from both main characters-Loki and Annalise. If you enjoy slow burn, immersive stories, with a good plot and the long awaited spice, then stop your search. Here is the story for you!
As the newly crowned king of Jotunheim, Loki...
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Leon and I continue to steer clear of the roads, choosing instead to ride through the dense forest that lies just outside of Vannaheim. These lands belong to no one, but are primarily occupied by roamer tribes.
"Do you know the way to Farne, to the Vanir base?" I ask Leon, as he slows Fawler to a trot, her heavy breaths indicating she's tired from the journey.
"I've been there once, during my early training," Leon replies. "It will be a hard, mountainous trek, but I think we can make it."
Ever since Ivor mentioned heading to the Vanir base, something inside me has been uneasy. I wasn't fully convinced then, and even now, having escaped the confines of the Vanir wall, I still feel that ache of conflict in my heart. Is travelling the mountainous path, truly the right course of action?
Leon seems to sense the tension in my body, and questions me, "What's wrong, Annalise? What are you feeling?"
I take a deep breath, steeling myself to voice my concerns, hoping that Leon doesn't grow upset with me for wanting to divert from his careful plan. So far, his actions have seen us through; I would never have made it this far without his guidance.
"I think we should go to Jotunheim, Leon. I need Lok—I mean, we need Loki's aid."
Leon's reaction is immediate as he pulls Fawler to a sudden stop, his shocked whisper reaching my ears in the quiet of the night. "You want to trek by horse hundreds of miles, through thick ice and snow, in what, a thin dress, and no shoes?"
To my surprise, he dismounts, leading Fawler towards a small stream to allow her to drink. I follow suit, my knees nearly giving way as my bare feet hit the rugged terrain. The soft grass of the palace gardens has not prepared me for the sharp twigs and stones that now dig into my unprotected soles.
"I have a shawl..." I begin, reaching for the garment around my shoulders, only to be reminded that I had lost it to the shrubs where we hid earlier.
Leon looks at me intently. "We can't go to Jotunheim, Annalise. Fawler would never make it, and neither would you. Besides, Tarryd is aware of your affection for the Jotun king. He will anticipate that you'll attempt to run to him."
"But don't you think he will expect me to move towards the rest of my Vanir army?" I question.
"Possibly. But Farne Hill is closer and poses less risk of perishing from the elements," Leon argues.
I fall silent, realising the validity of Leon's concerns. The journey to Jotunheim is indeed treacherous, and we are certainly ill-equipped to survive the harsh conditions.
"What if I told you that I cannot succumb to the cold..." I confess, nervousness making my body tremble slightly.
Leon scoffs, rolling his eyes as he approaches me. "I am aware of your formidable strength, Annalise, but no one is immune to the forces of nature. Look, you shake already." He rubs his hands over my bare shoulders, warming me, unaware that I really do not feel the cold.
