When she reached the main floor, she turned and stalked down the hall, and Pan and I hurried after her. It was dark in her parlor, no lights at all, and the black-and-red stained-glass window let very little of the setting sun in.

I hesitated in the doorway until Bodil lit two kerosene lamps, bathing the room in dim, warm light. The painting of King Thor was so large, the top half of his head was still in the shadows. Bodil had gone to a drink cart at the back of the room, taking a lamp with her so it illuminated her shelves of bejeweled figurines and wolfram statues while she poured herself rose-colored liquor from a decanter.

While she did that, I stepped over to the painting to get a better look at Thor. At my father.

His hair was short, but it was the same color as mine. His eyes were different, but his smile—lopsided, like his full lips—was mine too. The picture was much larger than life, but he was obviously a huge guy, with burly shoulders and a thick neck.

There was something playful in his expression, and a knowing twinkle in his eye. He looked like the kind of man who loved life, and I wondered if, when he laughed, he threw his head back. I bet he had a loud belly laugh that could be heard all through the palace.

“Is he what you wanted to talk about?” the Queen asked. She stood just behind me now, and I looked over my shoulder to see her taking a long gulp from her glass.

I would’ve loved to ask her about Thor, to listen to everything she was willing to tell me about him. But the Queen had only given me ten minutes, and I couldn’t squander it.

“No, I’m not here for that,” I said.

She arched an eyebrow. “I suppose we should sit down then.” As Pan and I went to the velvet love seat to sit, she said, “I’d offer you a drink, but I’m afraid you’d accept, and I don’t want you staying long enough to finish it.”

“Thank you for seeing us at such an inconvenient time like this,” Pan said, attempting to defuse the tension. “We should never have asked this of—”

“Just get on with it,” Bodil commanded.

“The Älvolk are doing something stupid and dangerous, and we need warriors to help us stop them,” I said bluntly.

“Of course it’s about the damned lost bridge,” she muttered, and she took another long drink.

“They’re going to cross it and enter Alfheim,” I said.

“Let’s make it short then: no.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I won’t help you.”