Chapter 23 Twenty-three.
I never knew King Sven had a godmother—let alone an aunt. But now I understand why her green eyes feel so familiar. They're the exact shade as his. Sharp. Piercing.
Maggi turns to Kane with a playful smile. “Leave the girl with me,” she commands.
Kane hesitates, clearly reluctant, but bows and leaves me behind with the strange, older woman.
“Now, my dear,” she says, those green eyes crinkling as her smile widens, “why don’t you come with me?”
I only nod, unable to say anything in response as she leads the way. She leads me through a part of the palace that I've never been to before. It's grandeur, each part more colourful as we walk further.
“I just returned from a six-year holiday in the Kingdom of Gnomes,” Maggi chatters, gesturing animatedly. “A land far more colorful than any kingdom I’ve visited. Did you know their average height is four feet? That's the size of a six-winter-old pup in the werewolf realm!”
Her voice is whimsical, yet it echoes against the heavy silence in my chest.
“Ever been?” she asks.
I pause for half a beat, then quietly respond, “No.”
“Ah, that's too bad. You should go there one day. Beautiful people and culture,” she continues while I wonder if she has forgotten that she's still talking to a slave. One whose freedom has been taken. But then I realise that the chain on my legs should be reminder enough, so she's probably just mocking me. “They have some of the best foods too… well no, I think I'll give that to the Kingdom of Orcs. Do you want me to share a secret with you? One would think that for green creatures, such as the Ogre from Orcs, they'd be ugly, but I kid you not when I say they've got some of the prettiest women. And their dancers? Their bellies move like water. You should go there someday too!”
“I doubt I'll be able to,” I say.
She halts mid-step. I stop too, nearly colliding with her. She turns around and I notice her smile has fade. “Why wouldn’t you?”
I frown, confused by the obvious question she's asking. “It seems you're forgetting that I'm a Fae living on borrowed time. I'm a slave to your godson who could decide to kill me once he's done using me. Besides, the Kingdom of Orcs and gnomes were allies to Māui during the war, I have no doubt that they hate my kind too.”
“Too bad.” She tsk and continues to walk again. “You would have loved both Kingdoms.”
“And how would you know that?”
She laughs. “I just do. After all, Sven has kept you alive till now.”
I don't know what she means by that, and I don't bother to ask. I remain quiet as I follow behind with one thing in mind. Maggi Magnusson is way different from King Sven. While King Sven is sadistic, Maggi is eccentric. But one thing they both have in common is they're unpredictable.
We stop in front of a towering door guarded by two soldiers who bow instantly at the sight of her. Maggi waves cheerfully as they swing the doors open.
She walks in without pause. I hesitate at the door step as I take in the view in front of me.
The room is huge, and King Sven is sitting on an iron throne at the end. Next to him stands Isadora as they read through what seems to be a map. There are about a hundred other people in the room, and from the looks of it they're all King Sven's Gammas.
“What are you waiting for? Come on in,” Maggi calls back, snapping me out of my woolgathering.
I swallow and take my first step into the room and there's a sudden silence as almost everyone brings their gaze to us.
The Gammas part like a sea as they bow to Maggi. While I dip my head to the floor since everything feels so overwhelming to me. I can't even begin to wonder why Maggi has brought me to King Sven's throne room. I haven't even seen the man in a week.
“Sven!” Maggi’s voice rings out, light and teasing as we stop walking. “Guess who’s back in Māui? Your favorite aunt!”
I raise my head just in time to see King Sven sigh as he hands over the map to Isadora. “Kind of hard to have a favorite when you’re the only one.” His eyes flick to me—sharp, probing—but then return to Maggi. “You weren’t supposed to return until next winter.”
“You think I’d miss the Dance of the Dead?” she scoffs, walking up to the throne and ruffling his hair. “Not a chance.”
King Sven groans at the act, passing his aunt a glare as he swats her hand. “Stop that. We’re busy.”
“I did hear about the dead bodies that were found at the border of the pack. Rogue attack?” Maggi asks. Her tone is now serious, no longer playful. Meanwhile, I feel lost. Like I'm not meant to be here, because let's face it, I'm not.
“We suspect so. Six dead civilians, no claw marks. We’re still investigating. The Dance of the Dead begins next month. Timing couldn’t be worse.” Then his gaze shifts back to me. Cold. “Why did you bring her?”
“Oh, this beauty right here claims she's your mate. Which I find fascinating because you didn't mention anything about that in the letters we exchanged while I was gone,” Maggi says with a laugh and there's a sudden uproar in the throne room.