Page 28 of Of Rime and Ruin
My mind reels, grasping at all threads of logic. “Of course she does.” I bite hard on my tongue. It’s a terrible lie, and one that will get my sister in trouble, if he would act. If I’m not careful, I could start a war.
Because why the fuck would Winona send her sister into Frost territory unannounced?
Should I spin this as a surprise marriage proposal? Would he buy it?
Shit. Shit. Shit. Why did I skip those politics lessons?
The panic hits me like a wave. I grit my teeth to stop the tears from springing. Not now. Not here. I will not show him my weakness.
The king smirks. “Oh, does she now?” His eyebrow raises, and relief skitters through my stomach. He doesn’t believe me. The Brine will be safe from his wrath.
For now.
He lifts my chin higher, and his gaze drops to my throat. His pupils widen. Would he accept a marriage proposal?
The thought is a dagger in my gut. I might as well have married the Coral Prince. At least there, I’d be warm and well fed.
Tears sting my eyes, threatening to fall. If I don’t escape soon, I will be stuck here forever. All because of a stupid choice; a useless rebellion against fate.
“I have a few rules foryou.” I try my luck. “First, if I’m here to stay, you will give me a proper room. With a fire. And one of those nice fur capes. Second, you will have food prepared for me three times a day. And third, you will stop with this prisoner sh—nonsense. I am no spy.”
I finish my demands, proud of myself. What more do I have to lose?
But then the king smiles, and my stomach flips.
Pinching my chin, he leans closer. His breath is cold as it spills over my face, smelling of peppermint and snow.
“Nice try,PrincessNahlani of the Brine. But your word means nothing here.”
Chapter thirteen
Aethan
Fuckit.IfIspend one more evening sucked into that sight-pool, obsessing over that damnsiren, I’m going to blow my steam. I’ll take my dinner in the dining room tonight. Like a functioning member of society.
I pound on the door, and the stationed guard unlocks it. He opens the door partway, poking his narrow face through the gap. His lips quiver.
“But Your Majesty, you said under no circumstances should I listen to you if—”
“Ignore what I said.” I cut him off with a raised fist. The door opens.
As I turn the corner in the hallway, I narrowly miss Deirdre carrying my dinner tray. She stops short, stabilizing the tray to avoid dumping the contents. A bowl of soup, a steaming lump of bread, a butter dish, and a cup of tea. She dips into a quick curtsy, and the tea sloshes.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I say, to assuage her questioning look. “And I’m afraid I confused my guard.”
She glances over my shoulder. “I see that, Sire.”
Balancing the tray on one hand, she mops the spilled tea with a spare napkin from her apron, then frowns at the sogging roll. I try to apologize for the mess, but she dismisses it with a wave of her hand.
“Nonsense. Shall we set a place for you in the dining hall this evening?”
I nod, and we follow the corridor out of the West Wing and down the parlor staircase in cautious silence. The dining hall, like the rest of the castle, is a modest tribute to darkwood timber framing. While it’s more rustic than the glittering grandeur of my childhood home, the style has its charm. Rough-hewn imported lumber. Functional furniture with the smallest touch of artistry, like the large table in the center. Iron florals wrap around the thick wooden legs, giving it an effortlessly regal appearance.
My family used this place in the warm season for entertainment, mostly, to give the royals a chance to stretch their land-legs and dance under the moon. With a few minor adjustments for year-round accommodation, it’s been serving my needs just fine.
Deirdre arranges my meal at the head seat, then lights the iron candelabra. Steam wafts with the smell of herbs and glacierweed. Roasted silverfish floats in the broth. My stomach gurgles.
“Anything else I can bring you, Sire?”
