Page 39 of Fated to the Frost King

“Well, at least she fits in with the rest of the court.” He raised his glass in mock salute to the skathryn, who promptly retreated back into the warmth of my sleeve like she’d made her point.

Neither of my companions asked why I had decided to walk around with a venomous bat tucked into my gown like a fashion statement, for which I was grateful since I wasn’t always sure myself.

Then again, Nevara probably had already Seen that, too.

When Soren lifted his glass in a lazy toast, I didn’t hesitate. If I was going to spiral, I might as well do it with a glass of Emberkiss.

The first sip hit like a flame, burning all the way down my throat. It was sweet for half a second, then sharp enough to make my eyes water, the cinnamon and clove combining with the spirits in a potent combination.

I coughed once, eyes watering. “That’s… bold.”

Soren, of course, looked far too pleased with himself. “The best things usually are.”

“You would say that,” Nevara said, sighing over the rim of her glass.

“I do say that,” he agreed, entirely unrepentant before turning his attention back to me. “I was worried that the king might have locked you away while he went out tohunt. I’m glad to see I was wrong.”

The whiskey burned my throat as I suppressed another cough.

“Are you always this forward?”

He nodded as Nevara said ‘yes’.

The Autumn emissary studied me as I debated how to answer, and once again my skin crawled from the attention. I had the sneaking suspicion that he saw far more than he should, and understood even more than that.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware that Draven,” I nearly stumbled over my casual use of his name, something I didn’t even do in my head, “had told everyone about the hunt.”

Soren grinned and sipped his whiskey. Tendrils of smoke poured from his nose as he breathed out deeply.

“He didn’t,” Nevara interjected. “Like a fox, Lord Redthorne thinks he is sly. He collects information through the process of assumption.”

The emissary arched an eyebrow, not bothering to dispute the comment.

No wonder my husband wasn’t a fan, the way he hoarded his secrets. I considered that for a moment, wondering if perhaps Lord Redthorn was my key to unlocking so many unanswered questions.

“So why did the king go?” I asked, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to obvious.

Nevara went very still beside me. Her glass hovered near her lips, unreadable. But Soren only smiled.

“A kingdom doesn’t cast their crown into the fire unless it’s the only thing left that might survive the flames.”

Ice seeped into my bones, though I had already suspected the same.

“But Winter soldiers have been fighting Tharnoks for centuries. Long before Draven became king.” The words didn’t sound convincing, even to my ears, not when I kept hearing the wordpack.

Soren didn’t deny it. Just leaned back in his chair and studied me over the rim of his glass, all relaxed elegance and unveiled interest.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “But back then, they weren’t hunting in packs.”

It was like he had plucked the word from my head. Nevara’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around the stem of her glass.

“And now they are,” I murmured. It hadn’t just been a one-time attack.

“Is it happening in Autumn, too?” I questioned.

He shook his head, expression turning more solemn. “No, or at least, not yet. Without knowing what caused the shift, it’s impossible to say where it will spread. Or when.”

A silence unfurled between us like a snowfall, soft, but smothering.

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