The Silent Son

The Silent Son BOOK TWO ALEXIS L. MENARD Copyright © 2023 by Alexis L. Menard All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. First Edition published April 2023 Editing by Brittany Corley Copyediting by Stephanie Taylor Cover and Interior Design by Gabrielle Ragusi Created with Vellum For my husband. To Hel and back. Content Warnings The Last Daughter is an adult fantasy romance that contains strong language and content some readers may find distressing, including violence, death, alcohol use, and graphic depictions of sexual themes. Chapter 1 ERIK Bodies piled across the deck. His men, the few brave souls who joined him on this errand to save Ailsa, were all dead. Every last one, gutted or flayed, their open cavities still spilling and adding to the mess on the floor. Empty eyes stared up at a misty sky, nothing left in them to appease his guilt. Erik stood in the center of them, an axe in one hand, a golden blade in the other. He remembered none of it, only waking to a warm wetness soaking his tunic and the sounds of beating wings. Valkyries flew above and dove to snatch each man from the crowded deck to carry their spirits to the realm of the slain. Each winged maiden eyed him with disdain in her limpid gaze. Their white wings breathed a tangible wind of disapproval as they ascended toward the sky. Had he done this? Blood covered him, weapons in hand, but his memory blurred any explanation. When the Valkyrie had taken the final fallen, he was alone on the boat with nothing but the empty vessels of his men. The shock wore off until he trembled so terribly, the weapons slipped from his grasp. The damp air swirling in the Realm Between Realms clogged in his lungs, worsening the tightness crushing his chest. “Next time, you will do as I say,” A voice behind him spoke. Cold and unforgiving, her words more daggers thrust into his heart. “You…” he whispered, turning around to find the Volva witch. Her glossy hair was a deep ebony that complemented red lips, falling over the one shoulder she shrugged innocently. “Yes, me again. Remember when I told you to take care of your crew, and you told me no all those nights ago?” “Because they had done no wrong!” he shouted. “For what purpose did you want their lives?” The witch only smiled. “My reasons do not matter, only your obedience. You made a deal with me. Our blood is covering your skin, inking into runes to bind you to my will. If I tell you to do something, you will do it. If you even think of disobeying me or refusing what I demand of you, I will take matters into my own hands.” She spared a glance at the dead clansmen. “Know this, Erik. I was not as merciful as you could have been.” Erik staggered backward, tripping over the lifeless body of the blacksmith, Obretch. The one who had been on his side to rescue Ailsa from the beginning, his biggest supporter and probably the only reason any of the other men had followed. “You did this to them?” “That’s not entirely true. It was you who killed them. I only acted through you.” He was going to be sick. This bargain was proving to hold more stipulations than he realized. “I don’t want to do this anymore. You said nothing about controlling me like this. Take back your power over me and find someone else to possess.” “Are you really giving up that easily?” she said, laughing at his discomfort. “Even when you’re so close to your sweet little heathen?” Her bare feet stepped toward him, sinking in the bloody puddles. “Vanaheim is only a few days away at most. And your men are already dead. There is no bringing them back from the afterlife. You might as well keep going, or their deaths will have been for nothing.” But their deaths were already for nothing. They had trusted him, even after nearly facing their doom at the Edge of the World. That trust had never been so wrongly misplaced. This blame would never leave him for as long as he lived. He was grateful he could not remember, or the memory would most likely drive him mad. Perhaps he already was. “How am I to retrieve her from this demon’s clutches? If he has allies in Vanaheim, how will I get her back? You have left me without a crew and with no protection.” She clicked her tongue, now standing on the opposite side of the dead blacksmith. “Your vengeance will not come easy, I will admit. The elfin, Vali, has brainwashed Ailsa with a spell, you see. He has tricked her into binding their life threads, so if you kill one, you will kill the other.” The spark of Erik’s anger struck something in his blood, an accelerant that surged his pulse into a rage. If he couldn’t kill the man who took his woman, if he couldn’t take her away at all because of this spell, what was the point of coming all this way? How would he ever get her home now? “Why did you send me all the way here if I cannot do what I came to accomplish? You could have told me that before I traveled across the Nine and killed my kin!” he roared. His voice echoed across the river carving through the Tree of Life, uncaring if the mist curled back as he shouted. Her hand dipped into the sleeve of her gown and pulled out a glass vial. Inside rolled a clear liquid. “If we want to break this bond between them, we need Ailsa to forget everything that has happened