Yuletide Punch: Phantom Queen Diaries Book 12 by Silvers Shayne & O'Connell Cameron

Author:Silvers, Shayne & O'Connell, Cameron
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Argento Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-12-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

I left Alice and followed the mysterious Sif as she waded through the crowd of revelers, always careful not to stray too far ahead of me and quick to beckon when I lagged behind. Eventually, she pressed herself flat against the wall, glanced in both directions, and vanished through a narrow doorway—one I recognized.

I quickly followed suit, though I did stop to look for Freya one last time. In doing so, I noticed there seemed to be a concerted effort going on—tables being moved, drinks being cleared, and so forth.

“The party must be windin’ down,” I said to myself.

But then why had Freya sent for me, if she wasn’t even in attendance? Had something happened to her? Or was it a ruse cooked up by Heimdall to lure me here? After all, how much did I really know about him?

“Not the time,” I reminded myself, clutching at the shard of Bifrosted glass to keep it from shimmering too noticeably as I slipped into the pantry room that Hilde, Gerde, and I had occupied a little more than twenty four hours prior.

I noticed at once that much of the delectable food was missing, as well as over half the casks. I eyed these warily, wondering if any contained the meads that Tyr had made me try. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to make of him, either; to have singled me out of all people, and in the middle of a party no less, was a coincidence I could not abide.

More than that, he’d known things about me—referred to emotions and thoughts he shouldn’t have been privy to. The same could be said for Heimdall. And Alice, for that matter, though I could hardly expect otherwise with someone with her talents.

I shook my head and resolved to focus on the moment at hand. The pantry was dim, the air heavy with tantalizing scents, and it appeared Sif’s eagerness to communicate with me had run its course; the Aesir stood in the corner of the room with her body turned in profile as though she might ossify and become one with the stone.

“Ye wanted to talk to me?” I asked.

Sif fidgeted with her hair, flicking her eyes from the floor to me and back again. I realized she was nervous, or perhaps afraid. Worse, I knew she’d never be able to tell me which it was unless I removed that troublesome thread that sealed her lips.

“Listen…I want to help ye,” I said, addressing the goddess the way I might a spooked horse or a traumatized child. I wasn’t sure why, except perhaps that—rightly or wrongly—it was the way I’d been brought up to speak to those suffering from some form of impairment, be it magical or otherwise.

Sif, meanwhile, continued to watch me like a reindeer preparing to bolt.

“I can help ye,” I insisted. “But ye have to promise to let me. I know what’s stoppin’ ye from talkin’. I saw it, and I t’ink I have a way to fix it.”

I held

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