Page 111 of A Lord of Snow and Greed

“But that can’t be true. Others have to have that kind of magic. Bastards, for one. And the noble families have intermarried over the turns,” I protested and then snortedat myself with how ridiculous I sounded, like I might actually belong to a noble family.

“Winter magic runs strongest in my family,” the prince said, not caring about my protests. “That’s why Sassa Falk could unify the houses into one kingdom.”

Thanks to Clemencia, I learned the basics. The Shadow Fae had come to conquer the Kingdom of Winter and all in it had needed to unify and fight or else die. They’d bowed to Sassa Falk, and she’d led them to victory, banishing the Shadow Fae before they decimated the kingdom and moved south, as the histories told us was their goal.

“There are too many coincidences,” Emilia said. “So try as you might to fight it, I’m right, Princess Isolde.”

“Neve,” I corrected her.

“In public, yes. However, to me you will always be Isolde, daughter of my dear friend and a female I would give my life for,” the slave countered, rolling her shoulder back.

I stared at her. The first impression I’d gotten of her that day in the kitchens, had been that she was a fearful creature. Now I was sure that I’d mistaken shock for fear.

“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken,” I said. “I can’t remember my family, but the idea that I’m a long-lost princess? That’s ludicrous.”

“But you being a blood slave,” Emilia mused. “That makes sense.”

“How?”

“You were meant to go west. Thyra was to hide in the east.”

“Did she make it?”

“I don’t know. I assumed you both died.” Emilia closed her eyes. “But you went farther west than your mother and father intended. Beyond the western territory of House Lisika even.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I wonder why.”

I sighed. My curiosity would be the end of me. “Where was the Princess Isolde supposed to go?”

“A lesser house in the west. One that remained allied with King Falk during the White Bear’s Rebellion. Your parents hoped they’d take you in.”

“Hmm,” I mused.

“You need to show her proof,” Calder interjected. “She needs something tangible.” He looked at Emilia. “Is there anything in the castle that can convince her?”

Emilia cocked her head before nodding. “Perhaps.”

“Go then. Show her.”

“What about your food?” Emilia pointed to the plate. “I can’t leave it here or, if it’s one of the days a guard appears, they’ll realize that someone comes down here.”

“Imagine the shock if they learned that someone saved me from starving in these decrepit dungeons, despite their best efforts,” he growled. “Unless the ceiling falls in on me, I’ll survive until you can come again. Go. This is more important.”

Emilia picked up the plate, and Calder passed her the bones he’d already stripped of meat. “I’ll return soon,” she assured the prince before turning to me. “Come. I assume you followed me down the stairwell?”

“I did.”

She arched an eyebrow. “The castle doesn’t let just anyone in.”

“No Aaberg loyalists,” I confirmed.

“But you’re married to the Warrior Bear.”

“He’s different. I have no loyalty to King Magnus. Nor the heir. Not even the queen.”

Emilia nodded. “Very good.”

We left Prince Calder, brother to King Harald, in his cell, though before we turned the corner, I couldn’t help but take one more look at him.

He watched me too, his eyes shining with what looked like hope.

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