Page 21 of This Frozen Heart

I shake my head, remembering all the charts I studied at the Academy. “They demand high prices and hither tariffs. The only sustainable path to survival is trading within our own Empire where no tariffs are enforced.”

“No, it’s just our freedom that is required.”

“We surrendered only a part of our autonomy. King Birger still rules over this province.”

“As barely more than a figurehead. And Ineversurrendered. Neither did my parents before me, who died in the war.”

“My parents died of starvation.”

“And then you were sold to the enemy.”

I frown, rage beginning to simmer deeper than the fire. “My adoptive father is a good man and has seen to my every need.”

“So much so that you have forsaken freedom and loyalty.”

“So much so that I wish to prove myself to him as a competent heir beyond being his beloved son.”

“By helping our conquerors strengthen their stolen power over us.”

“The Empress who governs now is not the man who conquered Gaelia two generations ago. She believes in the equality of all her citizens, whether mortal or elf, Imparian or Gaelic.”

“Such pretty little lies.”

“The Holy Empress has given you no grounds to doubt her word!”

“She is Imparian. That is all I need to know.”

“Of all the small-minded things—”

Gerta rolls over so that her back is to me. The sight of her bare shoulders is far too intimate considering the context of our argument.

“I’m sorry I tormented you as a child,” she finally says, “but I assure you that the suffering I will inflict upon you for every moment until I am free will make that seem like a cheerful memory.”

I huff, already bracing myself for what will come next.

However, Gerta just shudders at the feeling of my breath and doesn’t speak.

It seems I must wait for my coming punishment, but at least I know to be prepared. It is a good reminder.

No matter how close I may feel to Gerta right now, I cannot trust her. She is a mission objective and nothing more— and that isallshe can ever be to me.

Chapter Eleven

Gerta

The exhaustion of my body wins against the fury in my soul, and I find myself waking up from a deep sleep.

My head no longer throbs, but my thoughts are fuzzy. I am still well aware that I am in captivity. What I am more confused about is the fact that I’m lying in a straw bed and not on the hard floor. The blanket is wrapped around me alone.

The hearth still crackles as brightly as before, and I see my garments carefully laid around it. Kay, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen.

Which is for the best . . . for more than one reason. Because my memories of the night I drank that potent ale have returned.

The longer the night waned, the wilder my dancing became. I’m not sure how many times Kay and I became tangled in the chain despite his reserved movements. And then when all the spinning churned my stomach too much, I was sick in the sparse shrubbery. Of course, Kay was there. Only, instead of standing as far away from me as the chain would allow, he held back my braid and the loose strands that had escaped.

If I weren’t so drunk, I would have realized that Kay wasn’t an ordinary prisoner sooner.

I shake my head because that’s not what matters. Heavens only knows how long I have until Kay returns, and I need to either escape or find a tool to help me prevent Kay from dragging me toConstantinium.

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