Page 34 of Fated to the Frost King

It’s cold and bleak here and everyone in the palace is an frost-filled asshole, with a few rare exceptions. I have no escape plan and am likely to be discovered soon. Also, when he’s not directly criticizing me, or sometimes even when he is, my husband likes to stand too close to me and smell too good for someone who has committed his level of atrocities.

Did I mention I have a new venomous pet that I hope said murderous husband doesn’t kill? Oh yes, and the Visionary implied I might die before we have a chance to be friends.

On the bright side, I probably won’t have to worry about all of that because I think the whole kingdom might be in danger. Stay safe and write soon!

All my love.

Of course, I couldn’t say any of that. Still, at least I could be sure she was all right. I settled on something far more boring, letting her know things were going as well as could be expected and reminding her to stay indoors after dark. Her estate walls were nothing like the flimsy village houses, so that should be enough to keep her safe.

It would have to be.

I sealed the envelope with silver wax and…the queen’s sigil, which was strange, to say the least. Then I scribbledNoerwyn VaerithandThistlerun Keepon the front.

Mirelda was reluctant to share the location of the phoenix aviary with me so I could post my own letters… But when I threatened to search the palace without an escort to find it, she begrudgingly showed me the box outside of the study window.

In Eisbarrow, we only had one phoenix box for the entire village, so it was a relief to have my own, but I still wasn’t convinced that the phoenixes wouldn’t first bring my letters to the king.

I opened the window to place the letter in the box for them and managed to convince the bat to go for a brief evening flight to take care of all her business.

Mirelda pressed her luck to try and dress me for bed; I once again reminded her that I could do it myself. So she left in a huff, forcing me to face the closet down by myself.

I only slightly regretted my actions when it dug in its metaphorical heels, offering me one sheer nightgown after another. When I couldn’t convince it to give me a warmer alternative, I grabbed a flimsy nightgown at random and slammed the door a little louder than necessary.

At least the skathryn had too much separation anxiety to be gone long. She was back before I finished dressing, which was just as well since I was eager to get back to the relative warmth of my chair-bed, to try to chase sleep for yet another endless night.

And to try not to think about all of the ways my sister could have been hurt before she made it back to her estate.

Nightmares claimed me just as soon as sleep did—as they had every night since I came here. Tonight, I saw myself on the throne room floor, curls askew, features twisted in horror while frozen pieces of fae skittered across the floor. I could feel the mix of terror and accusation playing along my skin, potent as the king’s furious mana.

Then the scene morphed into a Tharnok, bigger and more horrifying than my compendiums had led on. Its jaw gaped before it exploded into shards of ice and blood.

On and on it went, one haunting scene after another. Only sometimes did I get glimpses of something gentler. My sister’s pinkie curled around mine, her smile both gentle and fierce. TheVisionary laughed with an expression more open than I’d ever seen her wear, accompanied by a darker chuckle that was just this side of familiar.

Then I was back to another battlefield. To more death.

When morning came, I was irritable and unrested, even before the king barreled into my quarters. His mana was more subdued today, or at least more controlled, like water just before it simmers.

Perhaps that’s why I hadn’t felt any warning at all of his presence before the door between our suites banged open. A small surge of satisfaction shot through me when his footsteps paused, even as my heartbeat raced in my chest.

Would I ever live a life without the constant backdrop of fear?

Fortunately, I had myself under control by the time he discovered me in the sitting rooms. His scent struck me first. Was it stronger today, or was I only more aware of it after last night?

His eyes narrowed when he took in the sight of me in my nest of blankets in the chair by the fire.

“Do you take specific issue with your bed, or are you merely unfamiliar with the concept due to your unfortunate upbringing?” He tilted his head like he was genuinely curious, the firelight glinting off the silver rings at the tip of his pointed ear.

Frost. Twat.

It was nice to know last night’s mood had carried into the morning. I couldn’t very well tell him I was too cold in the bedroom, whatever my current position implied. Besides, that was only half of the reason I avoided the bed.

“I’m quite familiar with beds,” I assured him. “I just prefer them when they aren’t forced on me.”

Beds. Husbands. The implication hung in the air.

He crossed the room to me, or stalked, rather, like a leopard approaches a mouse.

“I don’t recall anybedsbeing forced on you, Wife, but if they were, do you really think your choice in furniture would keep you safe?” He loomed closer, leaning down to growl in my ear. “Or are you trusting in your mountain of blankets to act as a shield?”

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