Destined (Desolation #3) Read Online Free Page A

repeated.
    li’Morl smoothed the front of his tunic and smiled ingratiatingly at me. “It seems he serves the young mistress. Does this mean something to you?”
    “Where is your companion?” I asked the Hound, stepping past li’Morl, ignoring both his question and his person. I stopped when I stood close to the Hound, when I could look into his black eyes, and see the rise and fall of his chest.
    The Hound fisted his hands—I noticed the tendons beneath his collarbone flex as he did. “He is no more,” he said at last.
    “No more.” I shook my head sharply, trying to make sense of the Hound’s words—of his very presence here in the wheelhouse. The Hounds were created by Hel—truly glorified dogs. That one spoke to me, seemingly of his own volition, was a marvel.
    The Hound met my gaze and nodded his head in the barest of movements.
    “And yet you said “we”,” I pressed. “‘ We serve the young mistress,’ you said.”
    The Hound did not look away. “I . . . misspoke,” he said. “It is only I. Helonius no longer . . . exists.”
    “What happened to him?” I asked before I could stop myself. I was vaguely aware of Odin joining us, the others shifting to make room for him. Everyone was as intent on the answers as I, but I didn’t let myself feel concern for any of them. Hope tingled in my belly, threatening to rise, to sweep me away on its promise of Desi-returned. I swallowed, forcing the hope down, forcing it to remain hidden away until I knew what the appearance of this Hound might mean.
    “The grand mistress, she . . .” The Hound shuddered and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. Moisture glistened under his eyes and along his neck. He raised his chin. “She bargained his life in a duel to the death with the pet of the king of the Svarts. Helonius fought valiantly, but in the end the zhaghmar creature overcame him and . . . and devoured him.”
    The pain in the Hound’s eyes radiated in almost palpable waves. “The grand mistress laughed,” he added.
    And I understood. Helonius had been his brother, his companion through what might have been centuries, eons even. And Helena had treated his life as though it meant nothing.
    “We no longer serve the grand mistress, but the young mistress only,” the Hound intoned. He dropped his head to his chest for a moment before looking up again. “I mean, I serve the young mistress.”
    I reached out and placed my hand on the Hound’s arm, giving a small squeeze. “I am sorry for your loss, friend.”
    The Hound tipped his head forward in gratitude. 
    “It seems you had little need for my translation services after all,” li’Morl said from behind me, his voice as cool as glass. 
    “Yet, it seems your presence is still fortuitous.” Odin’s deep voice rumbled along the Bifrost. “Come. Let us return to Asgard. It would seem we have much to discuss regarding Helena and the Svarts.” Stepping past me, Odin addressed the Hound.
    “Horonius.”
    The Hound considered Odin for the space of two heartbeats. “You are the Great Gardian Odin?”
    “I am.” Odin bowed his head in acknowledgement. He held his arm out, beckoning to Horonius. “Will you return with us and share what information you have on Helena and Desolation?”
    “We—I—serve the young mistress. Yes, I will accompany you.”
    Odin moved away then, and Horonius fell into step beside him. We returned to Asgard, a journey of mere moments that felt like an eternity to me as every footfall echoed the beating of my heart. Every beat, every step rang with my hope. Rang with the name of my beloved.
    De-si.
    De-si.
    De-si.

In Odin’s palace, we joined him around a table while white-clad children served us fruit and drink, meats and cheeses. The children giggled when Heimdall glared at them as they tried to dodge him and avoid getting poked by one of his large fingers. He didn’t exactly fit at Odin’s table, though the enormous god had been a guest often