Page 81 of Of Rime and Ruin
His pupils dilate, and he clears his throat. “You’re welcome,” he says, then whirls on his heels and leaves with a slithering hiss of his cloak as it drags on the floor.
Perrin and I share a curious glance.
“Are you going to open it now?” he asks when the king is out of earshot.
I grin. “Sure am.”
I tug the string, and the package opens to reveal a thick fur cloak. It’s a warm creamy color with flecks of tawny and silver over a dappled undercoat.
“Wow, that’s rare,” Perrin says. “A frostcat cloak. Mine’s made of boring woollygoat hide.”
I slide my fingers into the soft fur, then lift it to my nose. Inhaling deeply, I bury my face in the peppermint-snow scent. Does everything from the king smell like this?
“Put it on!”
I oblige, shaking out the cloak and slipping inside. The hide is soft and warm against my skin, with a weight that feels like a hug. The scent of peppermint grows stronger. Calming. My eyes flutter shut as my anxiety snuffs out.
This is nice.
“You look like you belong here,” Perrin muses.
“Think so?” My chest squeezes.
He grins, his tusks glinting in the torchlight. “Yeah.”
Chapter thirty-five
Aethan
Werideatdawn.Twenty snowbears, seventeen hunters, one healer, one king, and a troublesome Brine Princess.
Saddled, provisioned, and mounted, the snowbears plod single-file through the snow. Their paws break the frost layer, crunching in a steady gait, as they carry us toward the morning sun. Cyrene leads the pack. The hunter’s thick cloak drapes over the wide, white bottom of her mount. The wind whips across the plains, penetrating every hole in my leather armor.
Our plan is simple: we’ll trek until twilight, then make camp. The prey that hunker in the outer reaches of the plains are most active in the early morning hours. One day to get there, one day to hunt, one to return.
I squeeze my thighs, urging my mount forward. The snowbear shifts beneath me, putting more distance between me and Nahlani Mahelona. As there should be. This kingdom follows a simple order of things: she’s my prisoner, and I am the king. I should not be so beholden to her whims.
But if I’m being honest with myself—truly honest—I’ve known nothing would be simple since the moment I laid eyes on her.
That princess is nothing but trouble. Those full lips always curved around a witty insult, her eyes burning with mischief, that goddessdamn Voice, wriggling inside my head—she’s ruined me.
With a simple flick of her tongue, she ensnared me, shackled me, and bound me body and soul. Her Voice awakened something inside me in the courtyard yesterday, and now I can hardly breathe without craving her. Needing her. Desperately.
This is going to be a long three days.
Even now, I sense her every movement. Meters behind me where she rides alone, swaddled in her new frostcat cloak, as far away from me as fucking possible. She murmurs affectionate nothings to her snowbear, maintaining a quiet song.
That cloak looks good on her.
With clenching teeth, I tear my attention toward the Frosted Plains spreading before us. A sheet of ice stretches from the mouth of our basin to the horizon, uninterrupted and covered in snow. Somewhere out there is the prey we seek, but as I scan the expanse, I see nothing. We’re the only sign of life on the goddess-forsaken ice.
Have I made a mistake? What if we return empty-handed?
“You’re doing well, Sire. A kingly mission indeed.” Lucas’s voice penetrates my thoughts as the healer pulls his mount next to mine. His long, dark hair catches in the wind, battering his sharp cheekbones. “I wonder if we might have a word. About my research.”
I grunt my affirmative.
“The dungeon rubble is cleared. I think you’ll be interested to know what the Frost Guard found in the princess’s cell.” The wind carries his words, but the nearest hunter is several lengths behind us, and hopefully out of hearing.
