Page 14 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)

Chapter twelve

Nahla

My knees hit the throne room floor. I wince as the pain registers, sharp in each knee, then shooting up my thighs. This shit again? With trembling hands, I steel myself for what’s next and resolve to make him pay for this.

The king sits on that fur-lined throne, nestled in warmth, while ice-cold water evaporates from my body. My hair hangs in wet clumps, dripping onto the darkwood slats. Torches flank his throne, casting their warmth over my skin.

Fire. Gods, how I’ve missed this heat.

Is it pathetic to be glad for this moment of respite? This dark abysmal room, full of warm, dry air. The thin cotton shift his gentle housekeeper, Deirdre, dressed me in. Small wins, but I claim them. Revel in them.

These things, at least, he can’t take away from me.

“You can’t treat me like this. I’m a p—”

“Prisoner?” he says with a glare. His voice is smug and menacing, the kind that cuts straight to my bones. Fear traces my spinal cord, and I lose hold of all thought.

In my hesitation, his magic finds me. Ice encircles my wrists and ankles, securing me to his floor like a godsdamn criminal. For what? Going for a joy swim with glosswhales? Grow a heart, asshole.

I thrash against his restraint, and the ice cuts into my skin.

With a hiss of pain, I raise my head to meet his glare.

His eyes are a near-silver shade of blue, like morning snow.

His white hair is slicked into a knot at the nape of his neck, one loose hair falling across his forehead.

I wonder if he styles it himself, or if his morning whore does it for him. Chumwad.

How can I make him pay for what he’s doing to me? How do I make the pretty king squirm? My defiance pissed him off to no end last time. Maybe if I annoy him enough, he will set me free.

Plan D: become annoying as fuck.

Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve annoyed Winona since I first fluttered my gills.

The king rises from his seat, flipping the train of his long-ass cloak.

All royals are the same, adorning themselves with the most pretentious garments available.

Like Winona and her imported silks. His cloak is pieced together with the hides of many animals, the rich white and silver furs oiled and groomed.

Does he brush it himself or is that a special position for some poor, hired soul?

He sways on his feet—just a fraction—and I narrow my eyes. Darkness hollows his cheeks, like he hasn’t been sleeping. There’s an edge of hysteria in his gaze.

I smile. He’s easy pickings.

“It’s come to my attention that you require boundaries.” His voice rumbles, impossibly deep.

“No, thank you,” I quip. “But I appreciate the kind gesture.”

The king crosses his arms, pressing them tight to his chest. A thick vein protrudes from his snow-white skin, wrapping around his arm. Those forearms alone could do serious damage to a weaker girl’s heart.

Not me—I’m on a mission, and I won’t be thwarted by male intimidation.

“Here in the Frost Kingdom, we live by several rules. I expect you to follow them.”

To think I could be out of the Rime by now, speeding toward warmer waters. I was a fool for going north. I should have gone to Estuary and stuffed myself with wine and fruitmead. My mouth waters at the thought.

“Rule number one,” he says. “You will never leave the Rime.”

I wait for the punchline to land. He can’t be serious. His jaw twitches, then hardens. This male doesn’t have an unserious bone in his body.

Who does this asshole think he is? “Try to stop me.”

“Easy enough.” His ice tightens around my wrists and ankles.

I want to claw his face, rip out his hair. Smack that smirk from his pretty lips. My vision blurs with loathing.

“You think you can lock me up with a little snow? You’ll need to try harder than that, Frosty . Do your worst.”

Wincing, I twist my wrists and pull against his ice. Fuck, they’re tight. I’ll chew off my hand right here, in front of him, if it comes to it.

My stomach lurches. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the guts for that.

“You can’t handle my worst.” The king stands tall, watching with those icy eyes. I work to keep my face neutral as the scales at the back of my neck rise. “You. Will. Never. Leave. No one does.”

Never leave the Rime, my ass. I will escape him. Even if it destroys me, I will not let him keep me forever.

“Rule number two.” He paces, the cloak following him in a slither of leather. “You are my prisoner. My space is off-limits, and you will not enter the castle without my permission.”

“Hard to explore when you’ve locked me in a cage.”

He pauses, turning to glare at me. His eyes darken. “Your Majesty,” he corrects. “I am the king, and you will address me properly. Rule number three.” He paces again. His white toes splay on the floor, turning a deep shade of blue. “You will not interact with the Beast.”

“Which beast do you mean, exactly?”

“The clawbeast.”

“Does he have a name? Or shall I call him ‘Beast’?”

His jaw flexes. “That’s none of your concern.”

“If I don’t know his name, how do I know I’ve got the right clawbeast?”

“There’s only one,” he snaps. “And you’re not to go near him.”

I open my mouth to retort again, but nothing comes. What a strange rule to make.

He continues, “Follow my rules, and we won’t have any trouble.”

I spit on the floor and hope he steps in it—so much for ladylike charm. “Your little pet approached me, Your Majesty . Or are you forgetting you set him on my tail?”

“Enough,” he snaps.

He whips his cloak around, turning to face me. The king squats, his large frame looming, and I stare at his feet. The blue has spread to his ankles now.

“This is no way to treat a princess,” I mutter.

Winona wouldn’t stand for this. By now, she would have concocted some masterful political speech intended to cut him to his core while securing an alliance.

All I’ve got is annoying quips and guppish jabs, and they’re all falling flat.

“Freezing cold and locked in a cage. What kind of monster are you?”

He grips my chin, lifting my gaze. “What?”

I look him dead in the eyes. “I said what kind of monster are you, Your Majesty ?”

His eyes flash with something, a stray emotion in the void.

“Princess?” he echoes, his grip on my chin softening. His finger slides, stroking the soft skin of my throat once before curling back. Is that an edge of guilt in his tone?

I smirk. “Yes, Your Majesty. I am Princess Nahlani Mahelona, second heir of the Brine. And a threat to me is a threat to my kingdom. Her Majesty will find me, and you’ll regret the day you locked me in.”

Will Winona come for me once she realizes what I’ve done? Or will she finally cut ties? Decide I’m a lost cause and leave me here to freeze to death, all alone?

He stares at me. His nostrils flare, and he sucks in a deep, long breath. “Find you?” he says. “As in, she doesn’t know her princess is here?”

Shit.

My mind reels, grasping at all threads of logic. “Of course she does.” I bite hard on my tongue. It’s a terrible lie, and one that will get my sister in trouble, if he would act. If I’m not careful, I could start a war.

Because why the fuck would Winona send her sister into Frost territory unannounced?

Should I spin this as a surprise marriage proposal? Would he buy it?

Shit. Shit. Shit. Why did I skip those politics lessons?

The panic hits me like a wave. I grit my teeth to stop the tears from springing. Not now. Not here. I will not show him my weakness.

The king smirks. “Oh, does she now?” His eyebrow raises, and relief skitters through my stomach. He doesn’t believe me. The Brine will be safe from his wrath.

For now.

He lifts my chin higher, and his gaze drops to my throat. His pupils widen. Would he accept a marriage proposal?

The thought is a dagger in my gut. I might as well have married the Coral Prince. At least there, I’d be warm and well fed.

Tears sting my eyes, threatening to fall. If I don’t escape soon, I will be stuck here forever. All because of a stupid choice; a useless rebellion against fate.

“I have a few rules for you. ” I try my luck. “First, if I’m here to stay, you will give me a proper room. With a fire. And one of those nice fur capes. Second, you will have food prepared for me three times a day. And third, you will stop with this prisoner sh—nonsense. I am no spy.”

I finish my demands, proud of myself. What more do I have to lose?

But then the king smiles, and my stomach flips.

Pinching my chin, he leans closer. His breath is cold as it spills over my face, smelling of peppermint and snow.

“Nice try, Princess Nahlani of the Brine. But your word means nothing here.”