Page 125 of Fated to the Frost King

“Why?” His chest rose and fell in time with his rapid breaths, but his tone was deceptively even.

For the first time since he knelt near the tub, I was painfully aware of my nudity. My cheeks burned, and I slid off the counter, reaching for a fresh towel to wrap around myself.

Conveniently, that also helped me avoid his probing stare.

“Everly.” His voice was low, almost a rasp.

My eyes fluttered closed.

Had he ever said my name before? Only when he pulled me from my nightmares. It had been laced with the same authority then, uttered in the same throaty growl.

I tried to pin down my whirling thoughts. I wanted to tell him this wasn’t who we were to one another, but it didn’t feel true anymore. My heart raced, my muscles still throbbing.

It didn’t help that I could still taste him on my lips and feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.

Finally, I turned back to face him.

“Because we’ve both been hurt enough.”

His features darkened, then closed off entirely. Even his mana seemed to siphon back into himself, retreating further from me than it ever had before.

I swallowed back the emotion threatening to devour me and grabbed my dagger and the small stack of nightclothes Wynnie had sent over for me. Then I fled the room before he could see how much it cost me to walk away.

I needed space, and to see my sister, and to remember who I was.

Who I’ve always been.

Chapter 42

Everly

More blood greeted me in the hallway.

A handful of the rooms might have been clear, but no part of the estate was truly left untouched. I trusted that Draven had been thorough in his search for remaining frostbeasts, and still I tiptoed on silent footfalls, stepping around the dark spatters on the ground. Every creak had the hair on the back of my neck rising.

I clutched my towel tighter around me, trying to ward off the chill that was steadily seeping back into my bones.

The sounds of quiet sobs reached me from the room across the hall as one of the maids wrestled with her demons from today. Through another door, I heard the cook muttering prayers, again and again, as if the Shard Mother was listening.

I forced down a wave of bitterness as I focused on my sister’s door at the end of the hall, flickering beneath the low light of a lantern. I hesitated when I reached it. We had never knocked at home, but these were not ordinary circumstances, and I had never been to the Estate.

My father had never allowed it, and the guards at the estate answered to him. Wynnie’s husband had agreed, of course, sinceI was a bastard. It was the main reason she had never been able to stand him.

I added it to the list of things that settled like cold-iron in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps she could have loved him without that chasm between them. She could’ve been happy without the shadow of the sister she always needed to protect.

Then again, I supposed Fate always would have led us here. Only Nevara knew.

Thinking about her warnings and her tears was more than I could handle right now, so I stuffed them down, raising my hand to knock lightly before I could overthink it anymore.

It sounded too loud in the silence. I was half convinced that another Wretch was going to appear, masquerading as my sister this time. Or a Tharnok, ready to devour me whole.

“Wynnie?” I called.

A beat of silence passed, just enough time for panic to rise in my chest while I imagined all the ends Wynnie might have met in the brief time since I left her side.

Then the door swung open. I let out a breath when I took in her damp curls, wild and unruly as ever.

“Evy?” She swept a glance over me. “Did you not see the nightdress I left you?”

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