Page 96 of Fated to the Frost King

Evy

After posting the letter and watching the frost phoenix blink in and out of existence, much like Draven seemed to do, I changed out of my travel clothes and took advantage of the bath.

Mirelda brought some tea, after a thorough lecture about not eating, then lingered near the door longer than necessary, as if waiting for me to ask for something—anything—that might keep her there.

But the things I wanted, I couldn’t ask her for. The things I wanted, I wasn’t sure anyone could give me.

Chapter 33

Everly

Ibraced myself for more nightmares, but the reality was even worse.

Sort of.

I saw a bare, muscled chest flickering in the firelight. Felt lips searing against mine. Heard a dark voice murmur over and over again.

You’re welcome to try.

Hands traced along my spine, but this time they didn’t stop there.

You belong to me now.

Flames ignited, burning from orange to blue to a pale, frosted green, searing through every part of my body.

Morta Mea.

I wrenched my eyes open.

I was alone, of course, save for the softly snoring skathryn tucked into the pillow next to mine.

It was colder than it should have been with Mirelda keeping the fires burning high. But then, I had spent the last two nights with Draven’s body emanating heat to mine.

He was gone now. Not just from my bed, from the palace.

I could feel it. The stillness in the air, the absence of his mana.

Though, there was something… A low hum, pulsing faintly, soft and steady like a heartbeat under ice, but it was distant now. Blurred. Like a voice calling from across a frozen lake.

It had the distinct presence of his power, though nowhere near as strong as it should be if he were still here.

I sat up and pulled the furs tighter around me, eyes roaming the still-dim room. The fire had gone low, and my tea sat cold on the tray near the window.

I stood and paced the edge of the room, fingers brushing the carved frame of the hearth, the edge of the desk, the latch on the balcony door. Little anchors to give myself something to focus on aside from the storm that was constantly hovering in the distance.

Mirelda entered not long after with breakfast, bustling into my rooms like it was a normal day and this was my normal life.

Which, I supposed it was, for now, even if I couldn’t quite get used to that idea.

“You will eat this time,” she said without preamble, setting the tray down with a clatter.

She glanced up at last night’s tea in the windowsill, and her expression hardened even more.

I raised a brow. “Have you always been so charming in the mornings, or am I special?”

It was easy, this familiar pattern with her. Easier than thinking about Skaldwings and monsters and dreams that brought heat to my cheeks.

“You won’t be very special if you starve yourself to death,” she replied, dipping into my closet to pick out a dress.

---