Page 121 of A Lord of Snow and Greed

“Father, you can’t.” Vale broke from the line of people.

Few appeared surprised. And Rhistel, nestled between two Clawsguards farther down the line of people, smirked. I was sure he wanted their father to blow up at Vale.

Would he?

“Stand back, Prince Vale,” the King of Winter retorted as he pushed Vale back with a gale of icy air. Then, as the king had done in the throne room when he whipped Sir Qildor, ice formed on Vale’s boots and crawled up his legs. Frost formed on his lips, silencing him.

“No,” I whispered. No matter how disgusted I was with myself, no matter how much distance I wanted to put between us, that pull, that reaction to be with him and help him, was still there. As instinctual as breathing.

I took a step, only to be stopped by Saga grabbing my arm and pulling me back in line. “My father will do it to you too. Vale’s not hurt. Believe me, he’s endured much more, and besides, you can’t help him. Or them.” Tears fell down her cheeks, dripping off before freezing on the ground.

Her blue eyes were stuck on Avalina, standing at the forefront of the performers, now all lined up and waiting. The actress Saga admired looked so proud, so brave and resolute.

“These fae were present and complicit in the attack on the Royal Theater.” The king’s voice boomed, silencing anyone who dared to so much as whisper. “They are, by extension, rebels, and I sentence them to death.”

“I had no idea that the attack was to happen!” one, a brownie in a thin, filthy shirt, cried out. “Many of us weren’t involved!”

“They weren’t!” Avalina screamed in agreement and gestured wildly to those she stood with. “But I was. I let them in. I concocted the whole plan.” She lifted her chin in defiance and glared at the king. “So if you want to kill someone, kill me. Punish me. Make anexample of me. But spare them.”

A low rumble left King Magnus’s throat, sinking my stomach. Avalina had signed the death warrants of those around her.

I braced myself seconds before the king called his magic, freezing each performer to the ground. Like with Vale, ice climbed up their feet, their legs, stopping at their hips. The cold power spiked in the air, and unlike the first time he’d used it,inside me.

I startled and looked around. No one else seemed to have had such a reaction. I swallowed. Yet more proof that I was who the castle said, who Emilia said, who Prince Calder said.

The winter magic soared above us, a whirlwind offrost forming into icicles. The performers cried out, and everyone heard because unlike when he’d silenced his son, the king hadn’t done so to the rebels. He wanted them to scream. Wanted us to hear it.

Inside, my blood pounded as what the king was about to do became clear, as the very power he wielded affected me in a way I didn’t foresee. It flowed through me, awakening something inside me that begged to be let out. To save them.

But before I could so much as breathe, the king’s icicles spun in the air, their tips pointing at the performers.

“I will spare no one who questions my reign,” King Magnus growled before he sent the icicles soaring at the performers. “I will punish those who act against me. As I punish those who do not come forward and inform on betrayal in the kingdom.”

The weapons hit their marks. Blood sprayed upon the snow. Fae screamed, both those being murdered and those in the crowd.

At my side, Saga wept, and I dimly recalled that she possessed winter magic. Did she feel what I’d felt? Or did she weep for those killed?

The king turned to the crowd, his eyes blazing with fury as he pointed to the line of dead or dying fae.

“No one will build a boat for them to sail into the afterworld, for they will not be allowed our Sigling ritual. They have showered dishonor on themselves. On their families.”

Some gasped, but the king barreled on, uncaring, hard as ice.

“Their bodies will be tossed into the sea, weighed down by rocks.” He spared the performers one last smug look before marching out of the courtyard, hurling one last line over his shoulder as he went. “They will not drink from bottomless horns nor dine in the starry halls of the afterworld. They willneverfind peace, not even in death. Remember that before you consider acting against the House of Aaberg.”

Chapter 32

NEVE

Iawoke to a cold bed and a heart full of dread.

I had two days until the potion that suppressed my magic ran out. Two days until anyone could ask me anything, and I’d have to answer them truthfully. Something so simple might spell my end.

What if Vale asked what was wrong? What would I say?

Since the execution in the castle courtyard, he’d been as quiet as me. Protective still. Hurt, definitely, but quiet.

Angry. Sad. A million other things.

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