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Cressida’s eyes widened. “The Ledge,” she muttered, to herself perhaps, and then to Alvira. “Surely not?”

“It would seem our friend Yennes has somehow stumbled across Glacian magic,” Alvira confirmed. “Though I am yet to hear the full tale.”

“Yennes?” Cressida repeated, a note of recognition in her voice. “Survivor?”

Yennes nodded tiredly. “It is what they called me.”

“They?” Both monarchs seemed to lean closer.

“The Glacians,” Yennes murmured. “I… I lived with them for a time.”

The Queens gave her an incredulous look. “Lived?” Alvira asked. “What could you mean?”

“What is your real name, if not ‘Yennes’?”Cressida interceded, her eyes sweeping across Yennes entirely.

Yennes’ fingers curled inward to her palms. She had not uttered it aloud since she found herself within that Chasm. It felt false on her tongue, a version of herself long since left to rot.

“Farra,” she finally said, as though uttering someone else’s name.

“Well, Farra,” Alvira seated herself on the mattress beside her wife. “You ought to tell us the rest. You will not leave from here until you do.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

Farra was taken from the Ledge and brought before the King of Glacia in the same cruel fashion as each Ledge-dweller before her. She was blindfolded and stripped and chained before being thrown into the dungeon to wait the night. When the morning came, she and the other captives were herded up a narrow winding staircase and thrust through enormous oak doors, where the Pool of Iskra awaited, where Vasteel awaited.

Yet it was not Vasteel that caught her attention first, nor that fucking pool with its strange whispers. The room pounded a frenetic beat as the Glacians roared and jeered and thumped their empty chalices against the tabletops, but it could do nothing to distract from the Glacian that stood at the King’s side. The very Glacian whose talons had sunk into her shoulders and snatched her from her home.

He bore the marks of her fight. There was a cut along his cheekbone. A split in his lip. Her very own fingers had gouged those lines across his chest. She could see clearly where the scratches disappeared beneath his tunic. He had not put up much of a fight when they landed, releasing her as soon as they were close enough to ground. She had turned with ruined arms and drawn her knife, ignoring the screaming of her shoulders as she sliced and scratched. The Glacian had hit the knife away and taken her wrists in one of his hands, pinning her against his front within moments. Farra got the impression he could have done so sooner.

“I am sorry,” she thought he had said. But the wind was howling. Other captives screamed and shouted around them as they were held in mid-air, their tendons straining. The more Farra thought of it, the more ludicrous it seemed that she had heard the Glacian say anything at all.

He stared back at her, across the expanse of the hall, and a slow smile stretched across his face. And what a face it was. Pale and chiselled, as though cut from stone. His hair was short and a dark smoky grey. It perfectly imitated the colour of his eyes, the colour of his wings. Those wings hung perfectly still, folded inward behind the vast expanse of his shoulders. He was, in every possible way, dangerous. Terrifying. Beautiful.

And he watched her as though he might consume her.

Vasteel preached and Farra heard nothing of what was said. She focussed on keeping her sights set on her captor. She would die this night – she had already deduced as much and was shocked it had not already come to pass – and so, as her neighbours stepped to the edge of the pool, one by one, she speared the Glacian with every ounce of spite and malice she was capable of. She would die cursing him, and if the Holy Mother was merciful, she would ensure this beast never knew peace again.

“Move, girl,” a gruff voice demanded, and she was shoved forward. She stepped toward the pool with her head high, her lips pressed tightly shut, and she looked her last at the Glacian by Vasteel’s side, praying he felt her hatred.

But the Glacian had stepped forward. “Wait!” he called to her, to the room at large. “Halt!” his hand reached out and for a moment Farra thought she recognised panic. But then the Glacian’s eyes fell to his master and they became coolly indifferent. Mirthful, perhaps. “Your Grace,” he said. “Pardon the interruption. But it has been solongsince I had a servant to…tendto me.”

The confusion that had narrowed Vasteel’s eyes turned to amusement. The King’s head tilted back and he laughed.

Soon, all the Glacians around the hall were laughing. Laughing at her.

Farra turned to cut them with her stare too.

“Sheisspirited,” Vasteel guffawed, as though she were little more than a wild animal fighting against the hold of his trap. “But we have many a human walking these halls, Mesrich. Take who you please to your chambers.”

The Glacian named Mesrich grinned. “I want this one,” he said, and there was an edge to his voice, a slip in his otherwise oily countenance. “I relish a challenge.”

Vasteel laughed again and slapped Mesrich on the back. “I see you’ve returned to yourself, my friend. Consider the girl a gift from me to you. No noble shall hunger tonight!”

The Glacians roared their approval, tankards clashed, but Farra turned her gaze to the pool before her. It glowed invitingly, swirling with some matter she could not name, and though it were inexplicable, she couldhear it.It urged her closer, promised a gentle embrace.

At thirty-one, Farra had fought off her share of men who believed she was little more than a means of satisfaction. She would not fight off another. With one last loathsome glance toward the Glacian named Mesrich – the one who had dragged her across the Chasm – she held her breath, then hurled herself into the pool.

There was no sensation of falling. No collision. She fell into the depths of the pool, and it ensconced her immediately, cradling her in its warmth. She felt utterly weightless, thoughtless. The pool sung to her and she smiled. She closed her eyes obediently. What blissful relief to rest within its depths. The pool delivered her gently down its current, and she went willingly.