When his worst fear comes true, Asgard's Dark Prince will stop at nothing to rescue his pregnant consort. Yet, not even the threat of Asgard's forces looming in the skies over Alfheim can force the Unseelie Winter Realm Elves to produce Shannon when...
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Although it was some hours later, the dwarves kept their word and brought me a bowl of stew. I didn't know what was in it, but I was hungry enough to not be picky. This was despite the alarming red colour, chunks of unknown meat, and what I took to be vegetables. I finished the bowl and asked if I could have more.
"More? Where do you put it? You are skinny and half the size of us!" Galar complained, even as he refilled my bowl and returned with another jaw-breaking biscuit.
Frowning, I took the bowl and biscuit from him as I considered his words. Mid-bite, my heart skipped a beat when realization struck. The illusion hiding my pregnancy still worked. I saw my baby, but they couldn't. I finished chewing and swallowed, tightness constricting my throat. How long would the illusion last if I couldn't renew it? Clearly, it was starting to fade if I could see the swell of my abdomen. After dunking the biscuit to make it easier to bite, I ate quickly, despite the anxiety churning in my belly. Any energy I got, I'd put into the illusion to protect my son.
"Well, for a small thing, she is putting out twice the life force energy I would have expected," Fjalar said with a glance at some dials on a workbench. "Definitely worth the extra food she consumes."
Galar grunted. "Good investment. Get her a bed, then?"
Fjalar nodded, and Galar left the workshop.
"With you putting out so much energy, we don't need to draw quite as much." Fjalar stepped over to the wall and turned a dial on the device attached to my chains.
A little more power returned to me, and the ache in my joints lessened.
"Hmm... that gives me an idea though," Fjalar said as he walked to a workbench that held chemistry apparatus, several large cauldrons, and casks with cork stoppers. After picking up a large tankard and dagger, he returned.
"I've been wanting to try this since a Jotun visitor told me about the possibility a century ago, but I haven't had a strong immortal to try it on," he explained. Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and slashed the unprotected part of my forearm with the dagger.
"Hey!" I jerked at the stinging pain, but couldn't free myself from his grip. "That hurt!" He held my arm over the empty tankard, catching the streaming blood. "What are you doing?"
"Supposedly, it's possible to harvest some of your powers through a potion made from your blood. I want to test the theory. Don't worry. I want to keep you alive so I won't take that much."
Damn bastard. I banged his hand with my other fist, trying to pull my arm free.
"Stop struggling, girl." He slashed my arm again, and I yelped. "It's not that bad," he scoffed as he continued to fill the tankard with my blood.
My head grew dizzy as my gaze started to lose focus, darkening at the edges. "I'm not that big! I don't have that much." The tankard had to hold at least two litres and was already three-quarters full.
