Page 113 of Fated to the Frost King

Everly

We appeared just outside the keep, and already, blood stained the snow. Through my blurry vision, I could make out the ruined stables. Splintered wood and fallen lamp posts littered the grounds as if a raging windstorm had swept through.

I blinked, my vision clearing a little more, only to register the broken remains of bodies scattered among the ruins.

No. No. No. Were we too late? Where were the monsters now? Where was Wynnie?

The sounds reached me next, piercing my eardrums and sending fresh waves of icy dread through my veins.

Horrified screams and otherworldly shrieks echoed through the cracked door and fractured windows of the estate. My stomach sank even further. I took a step forward, overtaken by a visceral need to find my sister, but Draven squeezed my hand.

“Remember,” he said, his tone low with warning. “You swore to stay by my side.”

His voice helped ground me, even as every part of me rebelled now that I was here. I took a deep breath, giving him a reluctant nod.

He stepped forward, dropping my hand as he led me to the front door. Each footfall was quieter than the last, as if he were carved from nothing but silence and shadows.

His palm glowed with a pale blue light. It twisted and flared, and the temperature around us dropped as it began to take shape in his palm.

A pommel and grip appeared first, followed by the deadliest-looking blade I’d ever seen, all frosted diamonds and ancient mana. It gleamed under the bright, midday sun, as he twisted and honed it with each step closer to the keep.

Fear twisted my insides. All I could think about was my sister. And whether or not one of those screams belonged to her. Whether or not the next one would be her last.

I wrenched my dagger from my thigh, adjusting my grip until I had the best hold on it.

Every inch of me buzzed with dread as we drew closer to the sounds. The front door stood slightly ajar. Snow had blown inside in lazy drifts, trailing footprints—some fae, others wrong. Too wide. Too deep, and clawed.

Draven held out a hand, and I stopped behind him as he eased the door open.

It was the smell that hit first.

Thick, warm decay and sulfur. Like milk that had soured, or corpses left too long in the sun. I suppressed a gag as we moved forward, trying to breathe through my mouth, but hating the taste of the air on my tongue.

“Tharnoks,” Draven whispered as we stepped over the threshold. “They reek of death and rot.”

I nodded.

The door stopped abruptly, slamming against a barrier I couldn’t see. I stretched to look around it as Draven whispered a curse.

A body. Torn and bloody, and covered in a thick, dark sludge that looked more like tar than blood. My stomach lurched, but I swallowed back the bile. I knew inherently this wouldn’t be the worst thing I saw today.

Another scream rent through the air, followed by the scraping of a chair and a man’s voice shouting the wordno, over and over.

Then everything went quiet, like the house was listening, waiting.

The entry hall was unrecognizable. The furniture was shattered. Paintings torn from the walls. Blood sprayed in sharp arcs across the marble. And limbs were strewn between ruined furniture and torn silk.

My eyes burned, and my breath hitched.

Wynnie.

I had to find her. Before it was too late.

It couldn’t be too late already. That was a reality I wouldn’t accept.

Another scream split the air before I could process the carnage laid out before me. The sound came from deeper inside the house, sharp and guttural in a way that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.

A door burst open down the hall, and a maid came sprinting toward us. Her eyes were wide with terror.

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