“Technically, Soren’s the king, so even if we were going to pull that card, Soren would come out on top,” Seppo said helpfully.

Diaval sent the poor goblin a withering glare for his effort.

“No,” Soren said, heaving himself up. “She’s right. We’ll feel better the farther away we are from the water, and we can’t relax on the banks of Helheim, anyway.”

Well, he was right about that. I scanned this side of the riverbank, trying to figure out where we possibly needed to go next and hoping that all it involved was walking and not fighting some infernal creature or passing another test of strength. Stag or not, I was pretty wiped out from my experience in the water, and my muscles felt like heavy lead.

Rosamund stood, shaking. “Can’t you feel it?” he asked. When we met eyes, I was shocked to see his pupils blown so large that they almost engulfed his entire iris. “We’ve got nowhere we need to go. No need to travel to any place. We’re already there. Anywhere we want to be. We’ve passed; we’re at the dwelling. If you look, you can see the roots.”

Anyone who remained on the ground stood with a new, burning fire as we looked at Rosamund with confusion in our faces. Even Seppo, who knew him better than anyone else, was confused at the blown-out pupils and rambling words that had come out of his boyfriend’s mouth.

Rosamund lurched forward, taking a step and then another before reaching his hand out.

There was a shimmer and the world surrounding us shook and turned. My feet nearly fell from under me when the glamour in front of us was physically forced open by Rosamund’s hands as he yanked and pulled it apart like a piece of tough meat from a bone.

“Rose—” Seppo said but that was all he had time to say as with a loud grunt a ripping sound sent shivers down my spine and the glamour faded away.

There was no river around us now, nothing but the fields of brown grass, and the massive roots of a tree where a skeletal goddess sat watching us with amusement on her half-rotten face. She was terrible and she was beautiful; somehow managing to be seductive with the side of her face that hadn’t gone to rot, the beautiful alabaster skin and a shining blue eye, the golden-white hair flowing down one side, tucked behind one ear with her milk-white hand and shimmering nails. And then the other side of her body, a hollowed-out corpse, shot through with rot, like a carcass that’d been picked nearly clean by dogs. Dead flesh hung from her face and her eye socket was dark and empty, other than the maggots crawling out of it.