Page 14

Everly

M y cheeks burned from the interaction with the king as I pushed open the door to my suites, my mind reeling from his abrupt departure.

More so from the information I had wrested from his begrudging grasp. A whole pack of Tharnoks, and he hadn’t been as surprised as he should have been.

Though it had been nowhere near my sister’s village, those all too familiar tendrils of dread wrapped around me like a vice when I realized I hadn’t yet heard from her.

I tried to comfort myself with the realization that it had only been a week since my ill-fated arrival, even if it had felt like an eternity.

It would have taken her several days to get home, not accounting for the stray blizzard or five. Or frostbeast attacks.

I quickly shoved that thought away.

She was fine. She would be fine. I probably just hadn’t heard from her because the palace phoenixes were slower this time of year, right? The harsher winter weather making it difficult for a creature who could fly through snowstorms to… fly through snowstorms?

I didn’t wait for the door to shut behind me before marching toward the study.

The room was freezing, of course, the empty fireplace mocking me right along with the empty bookshelves.

At least the desk was stocked with stacks of parchment and endless wells of ink and a variety of quills, each more ornate than the last. I grabbed one at random, rolling my eyes at the size of the shimmering feather as I hastily scratched out a letter.

Dear Wynnie,

I paused, an unexpected ache in my chest at the sight of her name on the parchment.

I used to write her letters every week, filling the pages with cramped writing that detailed my latest novels or gossip on the servants at the estate.

There was so much I wanted to say to her now but no safe way to do it.

I considered what her letter might have looked like if I had the freedom to be honest.

Dear Wynnie,

It’s cold and bleak here and everyone in the palace is an frost-filled asshole, with a few rare exceptions.

I have no escape plan and am likely to be discovered soon.

Also, when he’s not directly criticizing me, or sometimes even when he is, my husband likes to stand too close to me and smell too good for someone who has committed his level of atrocities.

Did I mention I have a new venomous pet that I hope said murderous husband doesn’t kill? Oh yes, and the Visionary implied I might die before we have a chance to be friends.

On the bright side, I probably won’t have to worry about all of that because I think the whole kingdom might be in danger. Stay safe and write soon!

All my love.

Of course, I couldn’t say any of that. Still, at least I could be sure she was all right.

I settled on something far more boring, letting her know things were going as well as could be expected and reminding her to stay indoors after dark.

Her estate walls were nothing like the flimsy village houses, so that should be enough to keep her safe.

It would have to be.

I sealed the envelope with silver wax and…the queen’s sigil, which was strange, to say the least. Then I scribbled Noerwyn Vaerith and Thistlerun Keep on the front.

Mirelda was reluctant to share the location of the phoenix aviary with me so I could post my own letters… But when I threatened to search the palace without an escort to find it, she begrudgingly showed me the box outside of the study window.

In Eisbarrow, we only had one phoenix box for the entire village, so it was a relief to have my own, but I still wasn’t convinced that the phoenixes wouldn’t first bring my letters to the king.

I opened the window to place the letter in the box for them and managed to convince the bat to go for a brief evening flight to take care of all her business.

Mirelda pressed her luck to try and dress me for bed; I once again reminded her that I could do it myself. So she left in a huff, forcing me to face the closet down by myself.

I only slightly regretted my actions when it dug in its metaphorical heels, offering me one sheer nightgown after another. When I couldn’t convince it to give me a warmer alternative, I grabbed a flimsy nightgown at random and slammed the door a little louder than necessary.

At least the skathryn had too much separation anxiety to be gone long. She was back before I finished dressing, which was just as well since I was eager to get back to the relative warmth of my chair-bed, to try to chase sleep for yet another endless night.

And to try not to think about all of the ways my sister could have been hurt before she made it back to her estate.

Nightmares claimed me just as soon as sleep did—as they had every night since I came here.

Tonight, I saw myself on the throne room floor, curls askew, features twisted in horror while frozen pieces of fae skittered across the floor.

I could feel the mix of terror and accusation playing along my skin, potent as the king’s furious mana.

Then the scene morphed into a Tharnok, bigger and more horrifying than my compendiums had led on. Its jaw gaped before it exploded into shards of ice and blood.

On and on it went, one haunting scene after another.

Only sometimes did I get glimpses of something gentler.

My sister’s pinkie curled around mine, her smile both gentle and fierce.

The Visionary laughed with an expression more open than I’d ever seen her wear, accompanied by a darker chuckle that was just this side of familiar.

Then I was back to another battlefield. To more death.

When morning came, I was irritable and unrested, even before the king barreled into my quarters. His mana was more subdued today, or at least more controlled, like water just before it simmers.

Perhaps that’s why I hadn’t felt any warning at all of his presence before the door between our suites banged open. A small surge of satisfaction shot through me when his footsteps paused, even as my heartbeat raced in my chest.

Would I ever live a life without the constant backdrop of fear?

Fortunately, I had myself under control by the time he discovered me in the sitting rooms. His scent struck me first. Was it stronger today, or was I only more aware of it after last night?

His eyes narrowed when he took in the sight of me in my nest of blankets in the chair by the fire.

“Do you take specific issue with your bed, or are you merely unfamiliar with the concept due to your unfortunate upbringing?” He tilted his head like he was genuinely curious, the firelight glinting off the silver rings at the tip of his pointed ear.

Frost. Twat.

It was nice to know last night’s mood had carried into the morning. I couldn’t very well tell him I was too cold in the bedroom, whatever my current position implied. Besides, that was only half of the reason I avoided the bed.

“I’m quite familiar with beds,” I assured him. “I just prefer them when they aren’t forced on me.”

Beds. Husbands. The implication hung in the air.

He crossed the room to me, or stalked, rather, like a leopard approaches a mouse.

“I don’t recall any beds being forced on you, Wife, but if they were, do you really think your choice in furniture would keep you safe?” He loomed closer, leaning down to growl in my ear. “Or are you trusting in your mountain of blankets to act as a shield?”

Every part of my body was charged as a result of the shards-damned marriage bond, and I was so tired of its effect on me. Tired, period.

I placed a hand on his chest, ignoring the lightning that seared from the contact, and shoved him as I moved to stand. He raised a single eyebrow before stepping back, hesitating just long enough to let me know it was a choice he made rather than the feeble effort of my arm.

I got to my feet in one fluid motion, realizing my mistake a moment too late. The blankets tumbled to the floor just as a precarious draft ruffled the layers of my sheer, sheer nightgown.

Shards blasted hells.

At least I had known better than to risk wearing my dagger. It was tucked in its hiding place in the back of the cabinet behind the screen.

The king’s lips parted. I followed his gaze as they slid down to the peaks of my breasts that were far too visible beneath the sheer nightgown. And standing at alert.

I crossed my arms over my chest, but it did nothing to cover the rest of my curves, evident in the morning rays of the sun. One heartbeat passed, then another, both pounding far too loud in my own ears.

Where the king’s mana had been controlled only moments ago, it spilled over now, prickling along my skin and reverberating through to my veins. His scent was everywhere, invading my senses and stealing my breath.

You hate him , I reminded myself.

I pictured frozen battlefields, shattering heiresses, fingers turned black with frost. But the mana didn’t care.

His aurora gaze locked onto mine, emerald fire flaring from the center. His throat shifted subtly, a tense, restrained swallow, like he was fighting the urge to consume. To claim.

A warning flickered in his eyes, even as he leaned forward.

My breathing hitched, a thousand alarm bells ringing in my mind just as a shadow shot between us, an indignant squeak echoing off the cavernous walls.

Frosted. Hells.

Right. The other thing I had forgotten about. The king stepped back, whatever trance we had been trapped in effectively broken.

He swallowed once, and I grabbed a blanket, trying to will away the shame that burned through me alongside something far more potent. He was my enemy—my would-be executioner.

I knelt to pull the blanket around me, and tried to angle myself between my husband and the angry little frost bat.

“What is that?” he demanded, his voice rougher than it had been before.

I took a moment to get my breathing under control, refusing to question why it felt like I had just run several laps around the palace.

“A skathryn,” I finally answered in a calm tone, like it was obvious.

Which, to be fair, it was.

His jaw clenched. “Yes, I gathered as much. But what is it doing in my palace?”

Ah, there was the better question.

“It’s…” a long story? Not your business? I hadn’t quite regained control of my thoughts, so I blurted out something close to the truth. “My pet…Batty.”

“Batty?” he echoed, his tone a mix of disbelief and disdain.

“Yes. Batty.” Sort of like how I feel right now.

Why had I given her a name, like that would somehow make the whole thing more acceptable? It did fit though, given her tiny bat mood swings.

My husband cleared his throat. When he barged into my room this morning, I had been reasonably sure it wasn’t for the purpose of killing me, but it was possible that I had just changed his mind. Well, me and…Batty.

“Does it mean that much to you for me to be stuck here alone?” I demanded, defensiveness creeping into my tone now that some of the humiliation from the breast incident was ebbing away.

I might have spent the past few years alone, but there had been cats at the estate, and a few hounds. And at least no one there had been trying to kill me.

I clasped the heavy fur blanket tighter around my shoulders, more for modesty than warmth. My anger was starting to warm me just fine.

He scoffed. “Just when I think you can’t be less suited for your position.”

Because I had the nerve to have an unusual pet like roughly half the rulers in history and also the hypocritical prick standing in front of me?

My cheeks burned, but I lifted my chin. “Says the male who leads his pet wolves around the palace and instructs them to eat people? If anything, I’d say a venomous rodent fits right in with the theme of our monarchy.”

“My wolves are not pets,” he snapped. “They are guardians of the palace.”

“I see.” I nodded sarcastically. “Well, if it will make you more accepting of her, I’d be happy to train her to poison anyone who looks at me wrong and flap her wings ominously at the first sign of my displeasure.”

Before he could bite back some scathing response to that, I barreled ahead.

“Did you come here for a specific purpose, or were you merely looking to scrutinize my sleeping arrangements?” And stare at my half naked body like you were a male starved, and it was the buffet at the Starfire festival.

“I’m leaving,” he announced.

I waited for him to make good on that proclamation, but he remained rooted to the spot.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” I finally responded, gesturing vaguely to the door with the hand that wasn’t clutching the front of my blanket.

He sighed like I was a punishment from the Shard Mother herself, which would have been more offensive if it wasn’t a feeling I reciprocated.

“I’m leaving the palace, to hunt down the pack of Tharnoks. Given recent events, I thought it prudent to leave you with a guard.”

“I already have guards,” I reminded him.

He didn’t respond, only snapped his fingers once. A massive wolf bounded in. Though all of his wolves were enormous, this one seemed even bigger, though maybe that was only because it was standing in the middle of my sitting room.

Silvery white fur blended easily with all of the other pale things in this room, but its blue eyes glowed in an eerie contrast.

Batty trilled from behind me, darting to hide in my hair. The king raised a single condescending eyebrow, as though daring me to pretend that my pet was useful again, while the wolf stood straighter, somehow managing to look smug.

“He will take you wherever you want to go, if you simply give him the location. Lumen will accompany you any time you leave your quarters.” Like everything my husband said, the words were laced with authority that bordered on threat.

Because he was guarding me against the threat of courtiers and monsters? Or was this just another chain to tether me to this palace when he wasn’t here to watch me himself?

Before I could ask, he was gone, off to slay monsters, while I was left to be babysat by one.