Page 33 of Fated to the Frost King

Why it should matter…

I loomed closer to her until I was assailed by the pervasive scent of her, the contradiction of moonshade berries and frostlilies and something I couldn’t identify, like the first snowfall in a forest. It was maddening.

“Because,” I replied, biting out the words, “you belong to me now, whether either of us likes it or not.”

Her eyes darkened, her body leaning closer to mine even as she shook her head.

“Caging something does not make it yours.” Her breath was warm where it mingled with mine, carrying the faint scent of berry wine.

I let out a bitter huff of air, following her eyes as they drifted down to my mouth. “If there is a cage, Wife, rest assured we have both been locked in.”

Everly’s disdain pulsed through the air, edged by something I couldn’t afford to decipher. Her feelings were always that way, potent enough to flare in her mana.

I had felt her fury even in the throne room when she stood among hundreds of fae. The other brides were simpering or terrified, but Everly’s terror had been buried under layers of rage and…accusation.

I spun on my heel, storming back into my room before I caved to every last carnal demand of the bond.

Everything would have been easier if I had gotten one of the willing brides, though in hindsight, Nevara had tried to warn me about Everly in her irritating cryptic way.

“If the Shard Mother has chosen my bride, why do I have to open my palace to every scheming female in the kingdom?” I demanded.

Even then, I had known what the day would look like. Some hungry for power, others treating it like a death sentence. Both dismal prospects for a bond I would be stuck in for life.

Nevara sighed. “I don’t know, Draven. I don’t See everything. All I can tell you is that you need to call them here, and I will know when it is time. One will be plotting against you. A second is consorting with the Unseelie. The third will be your bride.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t get them mixed up on the day,” I bit back sarcastically, clenching my hands at the prospect. “It would be unfortunate if I executed my match and married a traitor.”

Nevara smirked. “You might feel differently after you meet her.”

If the comment had felt mysterious then, it certainly made sense now. Not a day went by that I didn’t wish I had taken my chances with one of the traitors.

Chapter 13

Everly

My cheeks burned from the interaction with the king as I pushed open the door to my suites, my mind reeling from his abrupt departure.

More so from the information I had wrested from his begrudging grasp. A whole pack of Tharnoks, and he hadn’t been as surprised as he should have been.

Though it had been nowhere near my sister’s village, those all too familiar tendrils of dread wrapped around me like a vice when I realized I hadn’t yet heard from her. I tried to comfort myself with the realization that it had only been a week since my ill-fated arrival, even if it had felt like an eternity.

It would have taken her several days to get home, not accounting for the stray blizzard or five.Or frostbeast attacks.

I quickly shoved that thought away.

She was fine. She would be fine. I probably just hadn’t heard from her because the palace phoenixes were slower this time of year, right? The harsher winter weather making it difficult for a creature who could fly through snowstorms to… fly through snowstorms?

I didn’t wait for the door to shut behind me before marching toward the study.

The room was freezing, of course, the empty fireplace mocking me right along with the empty bookshelves.

At least the desk was stocked with stacks of parchment and endless wells of ink and a variety of quills, each more ornate than the last. I grabbed one at random, rolling my eyes at the size of the shimmering feather as I hastily scratched out a letter.

Dear Wynnie,

I paused, an unexpected ache in my chest at the sight of her name on the parchment. I used to write her letters every week, filling the pages with cramped writing that detailed my latest novels or gossip on the servants at the estate. There was so much I wanted to say to her now but no safe way to do it. I considered what her letter might have looked like if I had the freedom to be honest.

Dear Wynnie,

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