Page 88 of Fated to the Frost King

“I must say, I find your relationship with the skathryn quite fascinating. I’m sure you know they aren’t usually social.”

I did know that, theoretically, but Batty was the neediest creature I knew.

“Yes, well, she was…sad and alone,” I said like that explained anything.

Maybe it did because he nodded sagely. “Like calls to like.”

I blinked, not sure whether I was being insulted or read entirely too well. His golden eyes flared with amusement as he handed over the book.

“Some light reading for you.”

I flipped it over. The cover was worn, the gold lettering almost entirely faded, but I could make out the faint letters.

It was a compendium, not on monsters this time, but on skathryn. Batty crept to the edge of my shoulder, tilting her tiny head before making a sound I had come to associate with curiosity.

“Later,” I told her quietly, turning to follow Draven with one last look at the Archmage.

I found the king in the hallway, barking orders at an acolyte to send our things. Next, he turned to the smallest one of his wolves, telling them to meet us at the palace.

Before I could ask, he placed his hand on my lower back, ushering me out of the Sanctum.

“Wait,” I said, glancing around the barren courtyard. I had to practically shout for my voice to carry over the howling wind. “How exactly are we getting back to the palace?”

Draven didn’t answer. He simply looked up, eyes scanning the sky, his short, pale strands whipping furiously in the wind. The clouds were low and heavy, the air thick with snow-laced wind. A flurry drifted between us, slow and quiet.

Then I felt it. The frost in the air shifted. Not the weather. Themana.

It pulled inward, drawn toward him like a breath held by the world itself. The temperature plummeted. The wind stilled. Even Batty stopped moving, pressing herself tighter against my neck.

Draven turned toward me. “Come here.”

I stared at him, heart ticking faster. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered Mirelda saying something about Draven traveling through the ice, but I had been too distracted and in too much pain to fully process that.

“Are we…walking through the ice?” I asked uncertainly. “Can you take passengers for that?”

I had assumed the answer was no, since he never took his wolves.

“Only ones who are connected to my mana,” he said drily.

The wind curled around him like it knew him. Like it wanted to wrap him in frost and take him wherever he asked. Tiny shards of ice lifted from the snow around our boots, swirling up like silver dust caught in a rising tide.

He held out his hand expectantly.

The frost spun tighter now, glittering in the air between us, drawing lines I couldn’t read.

He wouldn’t let me die. Not when he had just found out I had use to him.

Maybe not ever.

I reached out and took his hand.

“Don’t let go,” he said, voice low.

Batty squeaked again, her tiny claws scratching at my neck. Shards.

“Wait, will Batty be able—” My words dissipated in the air between us as everything turned to ice and mist.

The cold hit first. It was sharp, piercing my lungs and stealing my breath. We were moving, spinning and twisting like snowflakes in a storm, but not upward or forward or through. Just… away. The world dropped out beneath my feet in a silent rush.

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