Page 10 of The Holly King's Sacrifice

“You’ll see.”

I keep my head against his chest, and his hips seem to inch closer. He doesn’t hold the reigns again, keeping his arm against my stomach.

And even through my coat, I feel his heat.

5

Aspen

TheHollyKing’sramtakes us deep into the forest, past frozen waterfalls and old, decrepit cabins. He says nothing, but gets closer to my back, until his braided beard rests against the crown of my head.

Our mount is comfortable, grumbling every so often but never faltering. And the Holly King’s chest is firm against my back, keeping me warm like a blazing fire.

As night falls, we approach a cave with icicles hanging heavy over the entrance. The Holly King ducks his head so his antlers don’t scrape the ice as we enter, our beast coming with us. In the fading light from outside, I can see that there’s an encampment here, recently used from the looks of it.

The Holly King dismounts, then reaches for me to pull me from the ram. His arms stay around me a moment longer than they should, and I bask in his warmth. A moment later, though, he turns away and goes to the fire.

I follow, looking around.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“A camp,” he mutters. “We will spend the night here.”

He moves his hand over the fire and a spark lights in the kindling, then the Holly King puts his hand back into his pack with the glowing light still attached. I watch with a curious gaze, cocking my head at him as I sit down on the opposite side of the fire. It crackles to life while I watch, the Holly King nurturing the little orange spark.

“You don’t like me, do you?” I ask.

He looks up at me, refusing to take off that damn mask. His silver eyes glow within, catching the light from the flame. “You do not like me either.”

I lick my lips, staring into the warm fire. I peel off my gloves to put my hands to the flame, absorbing the heat.

“I was forced to be here,” I murmur.

He peers at me, his eyes unblinking underneath the mask. “How did you find yourself in that forest, woman?”

I swallow hard. “Um…well, I guess my family didn’t want me anymore.”

He’s quiet for a long while as the fire grows. Then he says, “Why?”

I shrug. “I was too loud.”

“I have not found you to be loud.”

“That’s because you keep telling me not to talk,” I say, looking up at him.

The Holly King stares into the fire for a moment, then reaches up with one big hand to remove his mask. When he removes it, I’m taken once again by how handsome he is—his beard woven into a braid, his hair tied back from his face. He looks up at me, his auburn skin flickering bronze in the firelight.

“Did your family not tell you to stop speaking?” he asks.

I bark out a laugh, unable to hold it back. It doesn’t make me feel better; it hurts instead.

“They did,” I say. “And I didn’t listen…and now I’m here.”

He nods, never breaking eye contact with me. He doesn’t seem shy at all as he leans forward, watching me closely. “What kinds of questions did you have?”

I hesitate, and I have to admit it’s because I’m scared. This man hasn’t been nice to me, even if he’s given me a coat and a warm place to sleep. But I decide to risk it—because what else am I going to do?

“I doubted,” I say.

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