Page 11 of The King of Frost and Shadows

I spun and headed back into the holding cell, my focus locked on the sizable white wing that lay on the ground, blood oozing out of the muscle that had held it. I lifted the wing and used the skin to clean the blood from my blade.

Lira gagged, and Malikor’s bottom lip quivered.

When I glanced at Faelan, he swallowed hard, while Eldrin could’ve passed as bored. However, I could see the gleaming approval in his eye. He loved it when I embraced my ruthlessness. He believed it strengthened the crown.

I smirked, continuing to play the part. “Faelan, take Malikor to his chambers. If he survives until morning, he gets to clean out the prisoners’ buckets.”

“My King.” Faelan grimaced. “Should I not take him to a healer first, or do you prefer that I send one to his room for treatment?”

“He isn’t allowed to be treated,” I growled. The mere sentiment of him receiving healing when I’d bestowed the same level of punishment on him as he’d wanted to giveherwith no aid didn’t settle well with me. “He broke the law, same as any other prisoner here. His only saving grace is that he’s been loyal until now. If he survives, he’ll join theprisoners. If he doesn’t, I won’t mourn his death. But this is hisonechance.” I looked at him. “Do one more thing wrong, and I’ll stab you in the heart myself.”

Everyone knew I would follow through on those words. I’d proven it numerous times over the years.

“Do you understand?” I squatted and placed my blade over my knee then held up the hand holding his white wing, now coated in his blood. Another visual to remind him of what he’d done.

Malikor kept his gaze trained on the floor, but he whispered, “Yes, Your Majesty.” Black blood dribbled into his mouth from the wound.

“Good.” I dropped the wing and kicked it. “When you come back, Faelan, clean this up.”

He nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He then helped Malikor down the path toward the guards’ quarters.

I turned toward Lira.

She was breathing erratically, and her face had turned faintly green. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a bad color on her.

“Though I enjoyed the show, I’m not sure that other guards won’t try to harm her.” Eldrin leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head as he watched Lira. “Unseelie hate thornlings. They just won’t be so obvious about it.”

My stomach hardened strangely. I couldn’t deny he was right, and the way Lira kept glancing at the wing and blood made me certain that they bothered her.

How peculiar.

If I were her, I’d be thrilled that my attacker had been punished. He’d bled for his wrongdoing.

But that didn’t solve the actual problem. And there was only one solution.

I grabbed her hands, and she fought me through thebuzz that sprang up between us again. She tried to tug herself free from my grasp.

Good. I liked seeing her fight and not look so defeated. Her challenging me would be the best way for me to break her … and destroy her.

Tightening my hold and ignoring the unwelcome sensation where our skin touched, I forced her to her feet. She leaned away and tried to step back but stumbled.

What the hell was her problem?

She removed something from her pants pocket and opened it up, revealing the smallest dagger in the world.

“Let me go, or I’ll hurt you,” she seethed.

Then the strangest thing happened.

4

LIRA

Igritted my teeth from the agony throbbing in my right toe and swallowed the bile rising from the brutality and gore around me. I wanted to keep the hand holding my pocketknife steady.

The world stopped as Tavish blinked at me before throwing his head back and laughing. His cold features warmed, and a different sort of knot twisted in my stomach. The sound of his laugh soothed something inside me, like swimming in cool water on a hot summer’s day.

How could I feel something other than horror with a man’s chopped-off wing andblackblood puddled around me? Yet the very man who’d created the gore made me feel something inside that I didn’t want to analyze. I hated that I couldn’t overlook the fact that he’d doneallthis to protectme. Had he not intervened, I’d be in a world of hurt, if not dead.

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