Page 106 of Fated to the Frost King

Against my will, I felt the ghost of his warmth on my skin, remembered the authority in his voice, pulling me from my own terror. My gaze flicked to the door between our rooms.

No.

It was a terrible idea. He would probably let out a wave of mana intense enough to hurl me through the window. I didn’t owe him anything, not after all that he had done, despite the way the bond told me otherwise.

I ran a hand over my face, my head warring with my gut. Draven—my husband, the Frostgrave King—had slaughtered people I loved.

He murdered and commanded and brooded and… protected…

Once again, I saw the monsters exploding. In my memory, in his nightmare.

All that he had done.

That was more complicated than it used to be.

Whatever other sins were laid at his feet, he was the last bastion of defense between his people and the horrors that crept down from the mountains and out from the Wilds.

Even if that hadn’t been true, was I capable of leaving anyone to suffer at the hands of their demons, let alone when I could feel their torment as clearly as if it were my own?

Another gale swept through the palace, cold enough to set my hair on end.

I let out a curse as I plopped Batty onto the pillow next to mine. Then my feet moved on instinct, carrying me to the door I had sworn never to use.

It was narrower than it had a right to be, pale and unimposing for all that it represented. Steeling myself with an icy inhalation, I tried the knob, half expecting to find it locked.

But Fate would never let me off so easily, so of course, the door opened with a soft snick.

A shiver racked my bones. It was even colder on the other side, and nearly pitch black. There was no fire to see by, only feeble rays of moonlight and reflections from the winter skylights, glinting off the frost that coated every surface.

Including the floor, which I only discovered once I stepped on it with my bare feet.

Shards.

My teeth chattered hard enough to crack my jaw as wind whipped through the space, burning my eyes. All the while Draven’s familiar mana raged across my skin.

I squinted through the veritable storm, barely making out the hazy outline of a bed, lower and wider than the one in my rooms. In the center, a dark form let out a ragged breath, misting into the air in tiny shards of frost.

“Draven.” I said his name quietly, hoping to wake him without startling him.

It didn’t work, of course. He didn’t register my presence at all.

Letting out a slow breath, I crossed the room, ice biting into my feet like jagged razor blades. He was easier to see once I was closer, bare chest gleaming in the moonlight like it was sculpted by the Shard Mother herself.

I climbed onto the bed, placing a single hand on his shoulder. Instead of exuding his usual unrelenting heat, his skin was like ice. Wind swirled through the room, blowing my hair into my face.

I pushed it back with my free hand while shoving against him with all my strength, though it was like trying to displace a boulder.

“Draven.” I said his name again, but he was lost to his own storm.

“Draven, you have to wake up now. It’s only a nightmare.” My tone was low, urgent. “You’re far too stubborn to let it keep you for this long.”

He sucked in a breath, and the air around us calmed, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

“If you freeze me to death, you’ll never again have the pleasure of being a condescending frost-twat to me, and I know that will make you sad somewhere in your cold, black heart,” Irambled through chattering teeth, searching for anything to say to keep talking, to reach him wherever he had gone.

Whatever dreams we shared seemed to fight harder than ordinary dreams to cage us in their midst. It shouldn’t have made me feel guilty when I had certainly never asked for this bond, but it still settled like a splintered stone in my stomach, knowing his nightmare was worse because of me.

Cursing under my breath, I slid my body next to his, trying to infuse him with whatever warmth I had to offer, the way he had with me. Every inch of him was solid, glacial muscle, impossible to ignore through the thin fabric of my nightgown.

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