Page 96 of Of Rime and Ruin
She leaps between two confused hunters, making a dash for the edge of the circle. Her cloak flutters and tucks between her legs. She stutters.
I take aim.
“Three.”
With a snap of my elbow, the snowball spirals through the air toward her fleeing form. It smacks into her ass. White powder explodes, clinging to her cloak. She yelps and skids to a halt.
“Not very fast, are you, Princess?” I call after her.
The hunters chuckle, watching us with sparkling eyes. “Good shot, Sire.”
Nahla scowls and scoops more snow, packing it between her hands. Determination creases her face. “Hey, Lucas, give me a hand, would you?”
The grouchy healer looks up from his drink and twitches his mouth. “Oh, I wouldn’t interfere in royal business, m’lady.”
“You had no trouble interfering yesterday when I was freezing my ass off.”
“Then I believe that putsyouin my debt, doesn’t it?” Lucas raises his eyebrow, and Nahla gives up.
She turns to the next hunter in the circle, a young male with shaggy blond hair, the same one I blocked her from earlier. “Orson?”
“I don’t know, Princess,” Orson says, puffing his chest. “It’s guppy’s play. I’m too old for snowball fights.”
“If it’s guppy’s play, would the king be doing it?” She pouts, that irresistible lip curing him in an instant.
Orson shoots me a look, and the tips of my ears burn. A grin spreads on his youthful face. The hunter leans forward and scoops a pile of snow, packing it between his gloves. “If that’s the case…”
He lobs a smacker into my chest.
I snarl. “Play fair, now. This is between you and me, Princess. No fresh recruits.”
“Says who?” She winds the pitch and lobs a slushball. It splats at my feet, a meter shy of her mark.
“Clearly, me,” I grunt. “The best player makes the rules.”
When I throw my next missile, she ducks behind a snoring Vaughn, and the snow wallops him in the neck. With a snort, he wakes and looks about. Nahla trails her flirty fingers across his shoulder and whispers in his ear, too low for me to hear. His eyes narrow, and he packs a snowball.
Smack. Ice slides down my neck. I whirl to find Cyrene studying the sky with intense interest. Nahla laughs, and another snowball collides with my ear. The sludge melts beneath my collar.
She’s turning them against me, one by one.
I find her gaze and pin her with a glare. All right. If she wants to play dirty, so be it. With a clench of my stomach, I summon my magic. My Voice vibrates from my lips, and snow rises around me, twisting and compacting into perfect missiles.
Nahla shrieks and bolts. But I am inevitable. I flick my tongue, sending the snowballs flying in all directions—one each for Cyrene, Vaughn, and Orson, and the rest toward her. Nahla sinks to her knees, pulling the cloak to cover her head. Snow batters my opponents in rapid fire.
“Oy!” shouts Cyrene. “No fair!”
The remaining hunters rally. Soon enough, a camp-wide snowball fight ensues—the entire hunting party versus me. The snow pelts me, smacking against my face, hair, ears, and chest. I erect a quick snow-shield to block the worst of their attacks.
“Cheater!” Nahla cries out. Her voice pierces the air, and the hunters’ protests follow.
Snowballs fly. Laughter roars. I fight until my muscles burn and my magic drains to its end, leaving a hollow pit in my stomach. With shit aim, I lob my final blow and collapse in a booze-drenched heap. Happy.
Chapter forty
Nahla
TheFrostKingisshit-faced, staring at me with wide, drunken eyes as I cradle his head in my lap. I stroke his white hair, tracing how it falls around his forehead. My fingers tingle as they ghost over the surface of his skin. The curl of his ear. The hard line of his cheekbone. He’s fucking beautiful.
