Page 36 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)
Chapter thirty-four
Nahla
The Frost King comes to my room that night. Perrin announces his presence with a few curt knocks, and I cinch my night-robe as I hurry to answer the door.
What could he want at this hour? Another heart-to-heart? The hunting party departs early tomorrow morning, and I haven’t managed a wink of sleep. Nerves have kept me pacing the floor, predicting all the ways I could fuck this up.
Hunting in the Brine is easy. The water carries my song far and wide. But I haven’t tested my skill in the open air beyond birds and that snowbear. What if he’s wrong? What if I’m not powerful enough?
What if I prove to be useless?
The door opens to reveal the scowling king in his regal fur cloak, bathed in torchlight and holding a large package. It’s tied with a bow and wrapped neatly in paper, crinkling in his hands.
I shoot Perrin a look, but the young guard shrugs, as confused as I am. The hallway carries a chill through the doorway, and I pull my robe tighter.
“For you,” the king says, shoving the package toward me. I accept it on instinct, and the smell of peppermint wafts from the paper. It’s heavier than I expected, with something soft inside.
“Um, thank you?” I juggle the package awkwardly and pull the string.
“Not now,” he grunts. “For tomorrow.”
I pause. His face is shadowed, but even in the gloom, I catch the hue of his eyes. Dark blue instead of pale ice. Have they always been that color? Or is it the bad lighting?
“For the hunt,” he explains.
I squeeze the paper to test the contents. A blanket maybe? Or a pillow? “What is it?”
He grunts again but doesn’t answer. Odd. The king had plenty to say this afternoon. I study his face, finding it sunken and weary. Shadows collect under his haunted dark eyes. I guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.
“You were cold,” he mutters. “I fixed it.”
The scales rise along my neck. That phrasing sounds familiar somehow. “Okay,” I say, raising my eyebrow. “Thank you.”
He nods curtly but says nothing else. His mouth moves as if he wants to speak, and then he snaps his jaw shut again and shoves his hands into his pockets. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he stares at me in silence.
My cheeks grow warm under the intensity of his gaze. Is there something on my face? Is my robe falling apart again? I glance down, relieved to find my bits are covered.
He flicks his gaze away. Was he just…? My heart stumbles as I consider what he might think of me as I stand here in nothing more than loosely wrapped silks. Again. I was stupid to answer the door, looking like this. It’s unladylike. Improper. Intimate .
Last night was accidental, and I didn’t know anyone would be roaming the halls. But tonight? I have no excuse.
I shift the package and hug it against my chest, blocking his view of my attire. No wonder he can’t speak to me. I’m probably breaking another unspoken rule, one about dressing properly in his presence.
His pupils dilate, and he clears his throat. “You’re welcome,” he says, then whirls on his heels and leaves with a slithering hiss of his cloak as it drags on the floor.
Perrin and I share a curious glance.
“Are you going to open it now?” he asks when the king is out of earshot.
I grin. “Sure am.”
I tug the string, and the package opens to reveal a thick fur cloak. It’s a warm creamy color with flecks of tawny and silver over a dappled undercoat.
“Wow, that’s rare,” Perrin says. “A frostcat cloak. Mine’s made of boring woollygoat hide.”
I slide my fingers into the soft fur, then lift it to my nose. Inhaling deeply, I bury my face in the peppermint-snow scent. Does everything from the king smell like this?
“Put it on!”
I oblige, shaking out the cloak and slipping inside. The hide is soft and warm against my skin, with a weight that feels like a hug. The scent of peppermint grows stronger. Calming. My eyes flutter shut as my anxiety snuffs out.
This is nice.
“You look like you belong here,” Perrin muses.
“Think so?” My chest squeezes.
He grins, his tusks glinting in the torchlight. “Yeah.”