Page 16 of Winter’s Fate (The Poisoned Kingdoms #1)

CHAPTER 16

L aena smelled the site of her captivity before she’d fully awakened. Mold, damp and musty. Joined by the sweeter undercurrent of rotting wood. And beneath it all, the persistent odor of burning acid. It itched at the back of her parched throat, threatening to make her cough. But she wasn’t ready to open her eyes yet.

Her hands and ankles were bound, the ropes cutting uncomfortably into her flesh. She tried to adjust her position surreptitiously, but her back protested the movement, shoulders shooting pain up her neck after the long night in an unnatural position.

She kept her eyes shut, allowing her senses to take in the situation. They’d dropped her into a corner, her back resting against the wall. She listened for voices, but aside from a consistent drip of water from somewhere in the room and the scrabbling of rodents in the walls, the place was quiet.

She risked opening her eyes a crack and peered around the room from beneath her lashes. She appeared to be in a dank cottage.

Two men sat at a rickety table in the middle of the room, slurping mouthfuls of something that might have been soup, their mouths to the rims of the bowl. They were both fully clad in black, their boots spotted with mud, tears in their sleeves. No insignia.

The one on the right was large, if not nearly as large as Callum Farrow, with a patch of yellow hair on the top of his head, the sides freshly shaved. His companion was thinner; even just drinking his soup, he moved with a coiled kind of grace. Like he was stronger than he looked.

She had the sense, though she couldn’t quite say why, that they were waiting for someone.

“Are you from Silerith?” Laena asked.

The thinner man dropped his bowl in surprise, swearing as the food spilled across the floor, but the bigger one merely narrowed his eyes. “Could be,” he said.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Not far,” the man said. “Milla’s tithe wasn’t enough to get us very far. Just out of your guard’s reach, I guess.”

Laena’s heart dropped into her stomach, and she felt like throwing up. Heart-tithers. That was how they’d spirited her away from the clearing so quickly. Her stomach roiled. How long had she been here? Would Callum be able to find her?

The knot of magic at her core turned over, as if awakening, and stretched tendrils of cold weaving through her ribcage and around her heart. It was soothing. A reminder.

She was not without her own power.

Even if she did manage to escape, she didn’t know the way to Inasvale. She might have found it from the original trail she and Callum had traveled; he’d said the religious fortress was situated to the northeast, and her knowledge of geography said they could essentially follow the coast until they reached it.

But she had no idea where her captors had taken her, or in what direction.

Not far, the man had said. And Callum must be searching for her by now. Though he mentioned having spent more time patrolling the border between Aglye and Silerith, he did have a passing familiarity with these woods.

Laena forced herself to breathe. The tendrils of power stretched. Ready.

The man who’d dropped his food finished mopping up the soup, then kicked the chatty one in the shins. “Shut up, Dane. We’re not supposed to talk to her.”

Before Laena could ask who’d given them that instruction, the cottage door swung open and a woman stepped into the room. She was similarly clad in black, with no badges or patches to indicate where she’d come from. Of course, that meant little. They could be from Silerith, as she suspected; they could just as easily be from Aglye, whether Callum knew of their existence or not.

They could be working independently, or for a rogue organization. She and the council had been aware of several such groups when she’d been preparing to serve as queen: secret magic users and religious fanatics, mostly. But they could be quite adept at recruiting, and their membership was not contained by borders.

There were too many possibilities to count.

The woman wore her dark hair clipped short against her head. A sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks gave her an innocent look that Laena could say from experience was mere illusion; she was sure, now that she saw the woman, that this was the person who’d snuck up on her in the woods.

“You two were supposed to watch her,” the woman snapped. “Not hold a conversation.”

“Sorry, Milla,” Dane said.

The woman strode across the room and crouched in front of Laena, looking her over as if to check that her goods were undamaged. They were meant to deliver her somewhere else, that much was clear .

Laena met her gaze. She was well practiced at pretending not to be afraid. This woman was no challenge when compared with a stunned council facing the news of her abdication, or a circle of villagers calling her names as they all but chased her from their social gatherings.

This woman was smaller than Laena. Strong, clearly, with wiry muscles and quick reflexes, but dwarfed by the two men. Yet they, too, were looking at her with the wariness of prey. As if one snap of her jaws would result in their demise.

The woman smelled of ash, of burning rot, and Laena knew instinctively that she was the heart-tither. No wonder they were frightened.

It seemed impossible that someone with such a cold stare could love something enough that its pain would result in magic. But even if Dane had not called it ‘Milla’s heart-tithe,’ Laena could not deny her senses.

Or the darkness that crossed the woman’s eyes, like a veil of smoke, an occasional flicker. Laena had never been close enough to a heart-tither to know if the stories of those shadows were more than a myth. Clearly they were all true.

Laena swallowed her fear as best she could. If Milla was going to stare at her, she could at least try and get some answers. “I don’t understand,” she said. “In Riles, you tried to kill me. Now you’re taking me alive. It doesn’t fit.”

Milla’s lips curved into a thin smile. She reached forward and patted Laena on the cheek. “Maybe there are multiple people after you. Ever think of that?”

“Not these days, no.”

Dane snorted. “There’s big plans for you, Princess,” he said. “Big plans.”

Milla rose, crossing the room with a quickness Laena would not have predicted, even knowing about the tithe. The woman hauled Dane out of his chair by his shirt collar, giving the big man a shake. “Shut up,” she hissed. “Don’t tell her anything. ”

Her strength seemed unnatural as she had no trouble lifting the man off the ground, despite her slight stature.

“ You told her a thing.” Dane’s voice was strangled, his fear obvious. He should have been able to swipe her aside with a single hit, but he didn’t even try. Like a kitten caught by a hawk.

“ I’m not an imbecile.” Milla dropped him, and he missed the chair, falling in a heap on the ground.

“We didn’t get her far enough, Mil,” the other man said. “What’re we gonna do? The King’s Guard are sure to come along the road.”

Milla paced to the wall. “I’ll think of something.”

“But you killed?—”

“Shut up, Penn,” Milla interrupted. “I can do this alone.”

Penn wasn’t quite as frightened of Milla as Dane appeared to be. Either that or he hid it better. He put a hand on her arm, lowering his voice to a whisper that Laena couldn’t make out. Comforting her.

Clearly, Milla had needed to kill, not merely hurt, something—or someone—she loved to work this level of magic. Laena didn’t know enough about heart-tithing to guess how much magic that would have given her, or how long it would last. But the way the woman was still moving with that quickness, that unnatural strength, she guessed there was still a trickle of power left.

Perhaps she’d used the majority of it creating that storm. Perhaps she’d drained the rest of the reserves whisking them here to this cabin, leaving her with only the dregs of power.

Silently, cautiously, Laena probed at her own power.

It stretched in response, unfurling against her touch. There was an eagerness there, but also weakness. Her throat throbbed, and she understood: she was too parched to fully access her magic. Ice needed humidity to form, after all.

So Laena started to cough.

Milla whipped around, obviously ready to snap at her, but Penn rose. “She just needs a drink, Mil.” He spoke softly, but Laena noticed the care he took in his movements. As if one sharp word from Milla would send him back to his chair.

When she didn’t protest, he brought his glass over to Laena, bending to hold it to her lips.

Laena drank then coughed again, spasming so hard that she knocked the glass from his hands.

“Stupid girl,” Milla hissed.

Enough.

Laena called for her power and it responded, freezing the ropes around her wrists into brittle, breakable things. Laena snapped them, slashing at her ankles with the icy blades that formed in her hands, then pushed Penn back with a blast of cold air before he could lunge for her, before he even understood what was happening.

It was easy now, the magic flowing as if from an infinite well. A rush of delicious cold.

And then she was on her feet, blades spinning in her hands as if she’d used them all her life. The magic broke free at last, filling the room with the sharp smell of snow.