Page 71 of Fated to the Frost King

Every stone was watching me, every echo as haunting as the Voidtouched.

And every single shards-damned heartbeat that thundered against my ribcage was more painful than the last.

A mage stepped forward from the shadows, wearing silken robes made of spidersilk. She had two black bands on her arm to show her rank. An apprentice, then.

Her skin was a mottled shade of blue-gray, bisected only by the white symbols tattooed above her brow and across her cheekbones, and like all mages, her head was bare. I blinked and suddenly I was twelve years old again.

I clenched my fists as pain lanced through me, deep within my chest, reverberating along my spine. It was so intense it momentarily knocked the air from my lungs.

Batty burrowed deeper into my cloak, her wings twitching against my side, but it gave me something to focus on. I ignored the sideways glances Draven was shooting my way, and instead focused on my skathyrn’s movements and the process of slowly breathing in and out.

Footsteps approached, soft and measured. A cluster of novice mages emerged from the corridor ahead, all swathed in layers oficy-blue robes and the kind of wide-eyed solemnity that spoke to a childhood free of adversity.

Free of the pain they would learn to inflict on others.

They bowed the moment they saw their king, touching fingers glowing faintly with mana to their foreheads in reverence.

“Your Majesty,” said the one in front. He was barely older than me and trying very hard not to trip over his own robes. “We weren’t expecting a royal visit.”

Draven blinked irritably. “I sent word to the Archmage.”

My stomach dropped like a rock in a frozen lake.

Oh good. Straight to the most terrifying fae. Why waste time?

The young mage’s face twisted into something apologetic. “He is not in residence, Majesty. The Archmage departed for the Glastmere Vaults last week.”

“Would you like us to prepare your rooms…” he trailed off, his eyes flitting uncomfortably to me. “The Archmage will return within the next couple of days. You are welcome to wait for him, or we could call for one of the Elders, instead?”

Draven looked at me. In question? To survey his problematic bride to assess whether or not an Elder would be sufficient for this sort ofissue?

My heartbeat raced even faster than before, my head spinning. I didn’t want to be here at all, so if he was looking for consent, he’d be waiting a long frost-damned time.

Draven pursed his lips like he had heard the thought before dipping his chin once.

“Then find us an Elder,” he said, directing his attention back to the novice.

He nodded, telling his friends he would meet up with them later, before gesturing for us to follow him to a massive hole in the center of the floor. A winding staircase wound deep into the mountain. So deep, I couldn’t see the bottom from here, onlyblue fae light dancing in between shadows that grew longer and darker the longer I looked.

We followed the eager young mage down the stairs, and I had the distinct sensation of being led into a crypt. Everything glistened faintly with power. The air hummed like it was holding its breath. The deeper we went, the worse it got.

The hallways narrowed, the lights growing dimmer.

Every inch of me wanted to run. But hadn’tmy husbandalready promised to throw me over his shoulder, to drag me back kicking and screaming, if he had to?

I wouldn’t be able to hold onto my dignity for long, not once the knives came out, but I could muster a semblance of it in the meantime. So, I clung to my anger like a lifeline.

When that didn’t work, and my body threatened to split in half from the pressure building within me, I clenched my fists hard enough for the tips of my nails to bite into my palms.

It burned. And if the warmth pooling around my fingers was anything to go by, it was also bleeding. The pain was grounding enough that I could take a steady breath in, holding it for several seconds, before slowly releasing it again.

I repeated the process again and again, each time hearing my sister’s words echo through my head.

Breathe, Evy. Not here. You can’t panic here.

So, I did. I breathed.

It didn’t matter that I had never been to this Sanctum, that my blood had never coated these stones, that it wasn’t this Elder mage who had sliced into my skin under the guise ofhelping. It was all the same.Theywere all the same.

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