Page 16 of Fated to the Frost King

Of course I was relieved that he was gone, but her explanation made no sense. Like all the monsters that terrorized our kingdom, Brakhounds were deadly, but they were scavengers, not much bigger than the average dog. They shouldn’t have presented a problem to the soldiers, so why was the king being sent himself?

I opened my mouth to ask but the maid pursed her lips, tilting her head toward the lavatory again.

Message received. She wasn’t going to answer any more questions. With a sigh, I followed her into the lavatory, resolving to find another way to get information.

The night before, I had been too busy scrambling for an escape to notice the opulent space. The tub was set into the ground, easily large enough for six grown fae and made of gleaming stones that cost more than my father’s entire estate.

White, of course.

There were no crystal-infused pipes like we had at my estate in Eisbarrow, no drain. Just a tub that filled itself at the maid’s clipped gesture. It filled with steaming water that sparkled with an ethereal glow, operated by mana alone.

Which meant, of course, that I would never be able to fill it without her help. Wonderful, since I did so enjoy her company.

I took a deep breath, something in my chest loosening as I stepped into the enormous tub, sinking below the depths of the water that was just this side of too hot.

It burned into the scabs on my palms, but the sting was fleeting. I let out a sigh as the water seeped past my skin, thawing my body and soothing the battered parts of my soul. I had been cold for so long, the kind of chill that comes from more than just the weather and settles all the way into your bones.

The longer I soaked, the more it eased my tense muscles and the old scar tissue on my back. My eyes drifted closed as I slowly stretched the skin that was pulled far too tight.

Most children showed signs of their mana around the age of seven or eight. By the time I was nine, my uncle grew concerned. My mother made excuses. Put on shows, as Wynnie had.

He stopped buying them by the time I was twelve. That’s when he sent me to the mages, to extract my power by any means necessary. He would not have a Hollow niece.

I shut those thoughts away, slipping them into a dusty old shelf in the back of my mind, somewhere just out of reach.

Instead, for a blessed few minutes, I didn’t think of him or let myself worry about the king finding out what I was. I didn’t think about prophecy or fate or how I had become a slave to the whims of both. I just basked in the rare privilege of being warm.

Only when my skin had pruned in places I didn’t want to think about did I finally emerge, hastily toweling off and pulling my dagger from its hiding place under the discarded wedding dress. I threw on a dressing gown before I was fully dry, in case the maid should decide to barge in, hurrying to strap my dagger onto my thigh.

It wasn’t a moment too soon because she did, in fact, intrude with a gown draped over her arm.

She didn’t try to assist me this time, just draped the gown on the counter with a scowl. It was navy blue, soft velvet, and warmer than I had been expecting, with skirts flowy enough to hide the subtle outline of my weapon. Small mercies, at least.

The balm from Wynnie had found its way into the lavatory as well, so I applied it as soon as I wrestled myself into the gown, refusing to think about how much the herbal scent made me long for my sister.

Reluctantly, I padded out to the vanity and sat dutifully for the maid to arrange my hair. Her short fingers were deft and practiced as they twisted my damp waves into something passable. I opened my mouth to ask her a question when I realized I didn’t know what to call her.

“You never told me your name,” I said after a beat, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Maid seems a bit reductive, considering you clearly moonlight as an assassin of personal pride.”

She sighed, but didn’t pause her work. “Mirelda.”

“Well then. Mirelda, the moderately unapproving,” I said with a wry twist of my mouth. “I would say it’s a pleasure tofinally meet you, but I wouldn’t do you the disservice of thinking you feel the same.”

Her lips twitched in something that might have been amusement, but I wasn’t going to accuse her of that just yet, either.

We fell into silence after that. Inside, nervous butterflies beat their icy wings against the walls of my stomach, fluttering harder with every pin she tucked in place.

I took a breath, reminding myself that I would be fine as long as I didn’t give the king reason to look closer. Towonder. Being from an outlying village like Eisbarrow could cover for a multitude of oddities, though, and Wynnie had faked my mana the first day for me.

Besides, with a fully staffed palace, how often would I even be required to show proof?

I swallowed hard, thinking through all the books I had devoured at my father’s estate and trying to remember what was actually required of a queen, aside from the obvious.

Since I had far preferred fiction and macabre monster compendiums to meandering books on history, the memories were hazy, but I knew there was a ceremony that required the queen’s mana sometime in the first year of our marriage. The next solstice, perhaps? That was months away.

Still…it was coming.

I needed to learn more about it so I could figure out how to pretend my way through, or find a way out of this shards-forsaken place before then. Of course, I would need to do that regardless at some point, but getting through the ceremony would buy me time.

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