Page 19 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)

Chapter seventeen

Nahla

Fuck the Frost King. Fuck his rules. I will break each one—it’s what I do best, after all.

Rule one: Do not leave the Rime. I will leave this wretched place if it kills me.

Rule two: Do not explore his castle. I will infiltrate every room.

Rule three: Do not engage the clawbeast. I will make him my bitch.

As I sit in my cell, brushing the frost from my scales for the thousandth time this morning, my resolve hardens. I’m no better off in this cell than I would be as some land-dweller’s statue queen. Either way, I’m collecting dust.

I want to be useful. Necessary. And I can’t achieve that trapped in here.

Rules one and two are out of reach for the moment.

But the clawbeast visited me yesterday. He engaged with me . I instigated nothing, but who’s to say I can’t next time?

Can he be summoned? It’s worth a try, anyway. He could help me escape.

I settle into the far wall of my cage, curling against the ice where I’m partially out of view from Perrin’s position. I keep my Voice soft, quiet, and cup my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound.

My power threads through the water, part of my mind lifting out of my body.

I scan the tunnels for signs of life. Several bottomfish nibble at the reedgrass growing in the rocks below.

Larger silverfish move in unison, the swarm leaving the mouth of the cave toward open waters.

I follow them out, brushing their minds for memories of the clawbeast.

Nothing.

I expand my reach. A few glosswhales skip waves, but their memories hold no evidence of him since yesterday. A lone thrashershark prowls near the beach. Again, nothing.

Farther, I push. Into the depths. Is he a nocturnal hunter? A cave at the bottom of the Rime would provide him with the darkness he needs to rest.

I scan the crevices, reaching, searching, until I reach my magic’s limit. My mental grasp thins, my vision fogging. My gills flutter at my neck, as energy uncoils from my stomach.

Dammit.

“Whatcha doing?”

I flinch at the sound of Perrin’s voice and cut my spell.

The youngling presses against the bars of my cage, a gotcha-grin spreading across his face. With him, he carries the set of keys and a new satchel tied to his hip.

My face warms with embarrassment. “Nothing,” I say. “Per the orders of His Royal Asshole.”

I clear my throat, now hoarse from the spell. I pushed it too far. All for nothing. The clawbeast is not on this side of the Rime. And if I’m to search farther, I’ll need to eat first.

Hunger batters the walls of my empty stomach, and I stifle its growl with the heel of my fist.

“Riiiiight,” Perrin says. “I heard you singing.”

“Just a little warmth spell.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You can do that? Wow.”

I shrug. No, I can’t. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Wish I could sing. That’d be so cool.” He sighs. “My family’s just… normal. Can all of yours do that?”

“My sister”—I swallow thickly as I picture her face, frowning as always—“is a siren. My parents, too.”

“Wow, all of you? Lucky.”

I shrug again, feeling awkward. “It’s a royal thing, to marry only magical blood.”

“Why?”

“To keep the family strong, I guess.”

He lets out a puff of bubbles. “Not fair.”

My stomach twists. “Hey,” I say, smiling. “You’re lucky Grumpy Gills didn’t capture my sister. She’s got some wicked spells.”

Perrin perks at the thought. “Oh yeah? What’s her best trick?”

“When she’s mad at me, she makes this rope out of the water. And she hangs me by my fins.”

His eyes widen and laughter bubbles out. “No way! I can’t imagine you getting into enough trouble to deserve that .”

“I’m a royal handful, trust me.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “When I’m not freezing my ass off.”

“I bet the Frost King could take her. He’s strong.” He slouches to the floor and brings his tail to rest in his lap. His fingers find the severed part of his fin, and he strokes it absently. “He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t believe you.”

His hands brush the pouch at his hip. “Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you.” He reaches into the pouch, revealing a roasted spinefish.

I glide toward the gate. “A snack?” I could kiss him, I’m so happy. “How’d you sneak this out?”

“It was His Majesty’s idea.” He hands it through the bars.

I hesitate, narrowing my eyes at the freezing, pink flesh in his hand. The king is… feeding me? It must be a trick. That male wouldn’t take care of anyone if his life depended on it.

“It’s not poisoned.” Perrin rolls his eyes. “Here.” He picks a bit of the meat, popping it into his mouth. “Yum.”

I take the offering, my stomach winning out over my caution. “What a decent siren he must be, to feed his royal guest .”

The meat is lukewarm. I close my eyes, groaning as the flavor hits my palate. Smoky. Tender. It melts on my tongue.

“I guess technically it was Aunt Deirdre’s idea. But the king agreed to it. Sort of. I’m sorry you’re locked in here, Nahla. I’d let you out myself if it didn’t mean I’d lose my head.”

“See.” I push the meat into my cheek to speak. “Nice kings don’t threaten their subjects with decapitation.”

“I never said he was nice. Just not that bad.”

I roll my eyes. “Guess I’ll find my own way out of this cage, then.”

Back to Plan… what am I on now? Plan D or should it be E? Escape. Break all the rules.

I swallow the last of the fish—gone too soon—and punch the wall for a show. Pain flares in my knuckles. Perrin laughs at my pitiful attempt.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

I ignore him and dig my fingers into the ice. My fingertips turn numb at the touch, slipping on the wall. Not a fucking scratch. I try my shoulder next, backing away, then swimming at the wall with all my force. Stars flash across my vision as I make impact, and I skid to the floor.

Fuck. The clawbeast made this look so easy. Where is he when I need him?

Perrin chuckles from his perch outside the door. “You’ve not been around ice much, have you?”

“Is it that obvious?” I grumble.

“You’ve gotta find its weak points, then apply heat. Use your breath, soften it, then eat it.”

“That works? Seems like a shit idea for a prison cell.”

He shrugs. “No really. Might not work as well with your stubby siren teeth, but, here, I’ll show you.”

He faces the wall, and with a snort, lengthens his front teeth into two thick tusks. He exhales on the wall before digging in with the teeth. The ice crunches.

He chews on it, then spits. “See? Easy.”

“Okay, tusk-man. Here I go.” I face the wall. It’s solid ice, impenetrable so far by nails or force. This is silly. Why should my teeth be any different? It’s not like I have a nice pair of tusks like Perrin.

With a deep suck of my gills, I filter oxygen, then exhale. The ice changes color—hardly enough to notice—a subtle shift from white to blue. I blink. Will this work?

Hope burning in my chest, I open my mouth and dig in.

Cold bites through my teeth, and I yelp. Pain flares in my nose and zings into my brain, and I squint my eyes against the cold.

Shit.

“Oh, sorry,” Perrin says. “Ouch.” He jangles the keys and metal creaks. Perrin opens the door, sneaking through a tiny gap, and shuts himself in behind it.

“I can’t open that gate for you,” he says, patting his keys with another jingle, “but this cell isn’t too deep. If we tunnel up, you’d pop out in the courtyard. Easy peasy.”

My jaw drops. “We?”

Perrin scratches his head, ruffling that mop of blond curls, then grins. “It’s technically not breaking the rules. He said”—Perrin clears his throat, dropping into a low gravel reminiscent of the king—“ don’t let her through that gate .”

I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips. I bring my hand to my mouth to cover it, swatting the bubbles away. “You’re not a very good guard, are you?”

He winks, but it’s more like a one-and-a-half-eyed blink. “And you’re not a very good spy.”

We pick the corner of the cell, where another guard would have to strain to see us. His claws cling to the ceiling like a silkmite, and he starts munching. The ice crunches in his teeth with ease. I rub my jaw, warming the ache, as I watch.

Soon, he’s carved the beginning of a tunnel, wide enough for my shoulders to slip through. He grins at me, snow sticking between his tusks.

“I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

I laugh. “Sometimes it’s fun to break the rules.”

The ice is softer now, inside the tunnel. I join him, digging with my hands through the powder until the daylight fades and his day-shift ends.

He promises to help me again tomorrow, and I promise not to get in trouble with the night-shift guard.

The gate squeaks closed, Perrin safely on the other side, just in time for the burly night guard to arrive. I pose on the floor of my cage, tail drooping, somber expression, and he scoffs at my listlessness.

“Not much of a spy, is she?” the guard grunts, settling into his position.

Perrin shrugs, glancing back to half-wink at me. “That’s what I said.”