Page 55 of A Lord of Snow and Greed

I risked so much for Neve. I cared for her. Of course, she was beautiful and there’d been an attraction between us since the first day we’d met. At least on my part. There was an undeniable pull between us. I thought of my wife—her smile, her laugh and my stomach tightened.

“I have my answer,” Father muttered, apparently coming to a conclusion when I was still reeling from the question. “Come sit.”

He was acting so casual, like I hadn’t defied him, like I hadn’t attacked his heir. Like he hadn’t whipped Sir Qildor for my actions. Or schemed to marry Marit and Sayyida off.

What was he up to?

I sat across from him, the heat of the flame warming my left cheek as I studied my father.

“You expect me to rage?” the king drawled out as though he were bored. “I see that you won’t be parted from the female, so it is time to move on to more important things. She is family, and hence, I will treat her as such.” Another sip of wine. “I’d much rather discuss issues pertaining to the kingdom.”

I didn’t believe him. He might move on for a night, a day, even a few weeks, but not forever. Eventually, Father would want to make Neve pay for what she’d done. At the very least, he would not protect her when vampire assassins came to call. They would be a perfect out for him. A solution to a problem that, despite his cool exterior, I suspected gnawed at him every waking second.

“As you wish, Father.”

“At last, some deference.” He smirked again, playful this time, though no warmth reached his cold eyes. Another hint that he was twisting the truth—moving on, for now—but the grudge would fester inside him.

Most races of fae were long-lived. Faeries included. We didn’t need to rush to even the score.

My father proved that during his rebellion. When he’d plotted his revenge on the blood family who’d ignored him, particularly Calder Falk, Father had long been an adult. He had plotted and schemed with the most influential houses, all displeased with the Cruel King’s reign. He’d even wooed my mother, a younger noble fae, and once a lady-in-waiting for Queen Revna. With her insider knowledge, Mother proved a pivotal figure in bringing down the royal house.

It took many turns to put things in place, and even more to win the rebellion. I’d been young, but I still remembered the day we came to Frostveil. The day the Crown of Winter’s Realm was set atop Father’s head.

So much had changed since then. The White Bear’s Rebellion exterminated two great houses. Many others were killed. Turn after turn, the magic in the kingdom dwindled. And, most recently, Father became colder, harder, more cruel—much like his uncle, the late King Harald.

“We need to stick together, Vale,” Father said. “If there is anything my own issues with my birth father taught me, it is that.”

I blinked. Mother was the mind reader, but it was almost like he’d glimpsed my thoughts, speaking of his birth father like that.

“Had he acknowledged me, had he treated my mother with respect, he would still be a prince of the realm.” Father swirled the wine in his glass. “I do not want our family to fall in the same way my biological father allowed his to crumble.”

This, I understood. I’d have felt similarly had I experienced the neglect Father endured. Had Father brushed me aside, claimed I was nothing, when my mother brought me to court. Or if I lived in Lordling Lane, right beneath his nose, was the spitting image of him, and he didn’t even look my way. That had happened to my father, not me, but I understood his pain.

Father had been angry with me many times, had taken it out on others and treated me cruelly, but healwaysreminded me we were family. We were Aabergs and our bloodline, the dynasty we were building in the name of the faerie who’d given Father his own noble name, mattered.

“Rhistel might not forget what you did,” Father added, bringing our conversation back around to my assault on my twin, “but you must try to repair things with him.”

“I’ll do my best.” It was all he’d get out of me. All that I could promise until I was certain Rhistel would keep his word.

“Good. Now, I’d like to speak with you about things I’ve noticed about the Festival.”

I leaned forward. Despite coming here to advocate for Neve, I decided that, for now, she was likely safe. Father seemed prepared to move on. I’d have to be on alert for vampires coming at the behest of their monarchs for vengeance.

Plus, though it felt a bit like a betrayal to Neve, I couldn’t help but be interested in what Father had to say. I knew why the Courting Festival had been called. I’d been the one to bring to light information that had prompted itsconception. This matter was even larger than Neve and me. Bigger than any single fae and could benefit all those who called Winter’s Realm home.

“You have an idea of who holds the Ice Scepter?” I asked.

“I’ve seen no sign of magical growth in any of the lords or ladies at court,” Father mused. “However, I have noticed high lords acting strangely.”

“Who?”

“Lord Roar, obviously.” Father scowled. “Both Lord Riis and I have sent emissaries to find him, to bring him back. We have heard no word yet. Then there’s the matter of Lord Riis himself.”

For a moment, I gripped the chair tighter but loosened my grip before he noticed.

Lord Riis? A traitor?

Before I delved into that matter, Father continued. “And Lord Balik has been acting quite odd.”

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