Page 11 of Of Rime and Ruin
The guards lift the corpse into a litter, the stones beneath their feet clacking as they carry the victim the short distance to the gate. A handful of servants have gathered behind the frosted iron bars, craning to glimpse the scene. As the gate parts to let the Frost Guard through, the servants scatter.
I narrow my eyes. Did anyone see? I keep a small staff for this reason; fewer eyes to notice oddities, fewer mouths to spread half-truths, and fewer bodies to wash up dead.
Deirdre pushes through the gate, dropping into a quick curtsy greeting when she reaches me. Her eyes are tired. “Shall I put together a gift basket, Sire?”
As if a gift basket could replace the life taken. I run a hand over my neck, massaging the tension before I speak.
“Yes, and add extra blubberchips this time, Deirdre.” I tug my furs tighter as the wind whistles over the Rime, spraying frozen mist. “It’ll be cold tonight.”
“Excellent idea.” She follows me toward the gate.
Underwater, this wind was never a problem. What’s left of Doloch is carved into the ice below my feet, the royal city abandoned entirely at my command. My kingdom has been land-bound, hunkering two-legged inside our huts, for the past decade, merfolk separated from the sea. But I’d rather them land-bound than lunch.
Some disagree. If I was a good king, I’d dive into the depths myself and wrestle the clawbeast into submission, they say. End this madness.
But I am anything butgood, and I won’t set fin in the Rime again.
Not wittingly, anyway.
Not when it ends like this.
The wind cuts out as soon as I step into the hall.
“A bottle of wine as well, perhaps?” Deirdre says, brushing the snow from her gray hair.
I grunt. “If it will help you sleep at night.”
She ignores my icy tone and nods. Deirdre has always been a hopeful type; her lips curl warmly at me, her round face soft with age. All these years, she’s served my wretched family, first as my mother’s favorite handmaid and now as my head of house. She knows all our secrets, and she still finds reason to smile.
She glances over her shoulder toward the shore. “I’d sleep much better if this situation was—”
“I have it under control.” My tone cuts too sharply. Too loud as it echoes through the vast hallway.
I clench my fist to tamper the next flare of anger, but the energy builds and burns through my veins, and a cord of muscle twitches on my neck.
It’s not enough. Energy rushes through me, and my siren Voice erupts in deep, rattling bass. The power of my magic is addictive, uncoiling in my belly as it grows. I twitch my hand and, unable to control it, shards of ice sprout from the ground,cutting a line out the hall, through the gate, and to the sea. Deirdre gasps, leaping out of the path of my magic. The ice crackles and twists skyward as my spell continues to fall from my mouth.
Rage building. Power unfurling. The familiar darkness stirs deep within me, waking up as my hands stain blue.
A scream cuts the air, and my heart lurches. I wrestle the energy into submission, snapping my mouth shut. The shards of magic shatter and fall in glittering dust over the stones.
A young merman collapses onto the beach with a howl, his severed leg slick with blood. I recognize him as a Frost Guard trainee. Deirdre’s nephew.
And I’ve just sliced off his foot.
Deirdre screams and rushes to the shoreline, a sob ripping from her throat. The family resemblance is clear—the spotted pattern on their dark blue cheeks, the broad brown eyes, the curly mops of hair, one silver, one sandy. Deirdre said her nephew joined the Frost Guard this year, and he was proud to be in my service.
Perrin, he’s called, after the wandering glacierweed; her late sister’s favorite floral.
I watch in frozen horror as she kneels next to him. Perrin screams, hands coating with blood as he grasps his severed ankle. His right foot lies dismembered on the stones. Already, his foot mottles purple, the hoarfrost of my magic claiming territory.
“Healer!” Deirdre tears her skirt, tying a quick tourniquet above the wound. Her mouth moves again, but no words reach me.
All sound fades into a hush of panic. My ears ring. I clasp my head, staggering as the vertigo hits, and I catch myself on the cold bars of the gate.
Lucas breezes past, rolling his sleeves with four quick tucks. I blink. My hearing rushes in with a whoosh.
What am I doing? Standing like a dick in the doorway? I curl my shaking hands into fists and burrow them in my cloak.
