Page 14 of Of Rime and Ruin
Fear prickles my scalp, and I stall, backpedaling my fins. My song dies in my mouth, and my connection to the glosswhales severs. The bitter scent of the water grows stronger, coating my throat.
This is Frost territory.
I may have skipped political lessons, but I know between that gap lies a kingdom harsh and cruel. Their royal’s heart is as cold as the castle he calls home.
I can’t justwanderinto the Rime. It’s one thing to admire the skylights. Quite another to ask for hospitality from a tyrannical king.
Ahead, the glosswhales chirp, circling back to collect me.
I chew my lip.
Reckless. Foolish. Traitor.
My stomach sinks as Winona’s voice returns. I can almost picture her scowl, regal as ever. Disappointed, yet again. If she knew I was risking a dip in the Rime for a few more minutes of fun, my sister would scream—in that silent, internal way of hers.
Do it.
Adrenaline fills my veins, and I ache with longing. It’s a small rebellion. Nothing too major, just a little trespassing…
I can’t wander into foreign territory and expect to swim away unscathed. What happens if I get caught? Do I pretend to be lost and confused? A regular damsel in distress routine—they’ll never seethatcoming. I’m fucked.
But what if I don’t stay long?
What if I finish this race, then leave?
It’s well past midnight by now. What are the odds of meeting a Frost Guard patrol at this time of night? I could sneak in and out, no problem. Stick to the periphery, finish our race, and then I’ll be on my way.
Harmless.
The Frost King will never know I was here, and neither will Winona.
The glosswhales chitter, nudging me with their glassy noses. My heart melts, and I can’t say no.
Chapter seven
Aethan
Mychamberisblackas the night. Thick furs hang over the walls to cut the chill of the ice that clings to every iron pore. It’s late. The candle on my mantel burned out long ago, its smoke lingering in the room like a stale guest.
My ass is sore from sitting in this chair too long. When I tilt my head, my neck cracks and a series of pops break the silence.
I should sleep. Resign myself to the creature comforts of the soft furs on my bed. Any sane person would have given up the chase by now.
But I must stay vigilant if I’m to catch the clawbeast. It’s the only thing that will prove my innocence.
So I dip my fingers again into a shallow bowl on my desk, its water cool and clear. As I hum the activation spell, it creates a mirrored pool, glowing awake and casting a blue hue into the darkness. I peer into an enchanted replica of my frozen domain.
My Voice deepens, directing the spell. On the surface of the pool, the conjured image narrows and dives into the Rime. I gripthe bowl, transfixed by the moving image. The seafloor slants away from the beach. Shale gives way to a sprawl of dark, jagged rock. Silverfish flick their tails in unison, forming a tight unit of flashing scales. Glacierweed sways in the slow currents, the curly tendrils clinging to pockets of stone. Then the floor drops. Steep ice walls plummet to the darkest reaches, swallowed by the blue.
I alter my spell, and the image plunges into the depths, speeding through the trench and scanning for signs of struggle. Claw marks in the ice, or a molted scale. Bones on the seafloor. Anything to prove the existence of another clawbeast living in the deep.
The knot in my stomach hardens, sharp as a knife.
There’s nothing here.
Slowly, my vision rises, floating toward the surface for a final wide-angle view.
I’ve searched the Rime for over a decade, and the bitter truth remains the same: I am the sole cause of my people’s suffering. And unless I can find a cure soon, I will need to abdicate my throne. I’ve already broken tradition—a young king with dead parents, I took the throne unmarried. A scandal I’ve done nothing to remedy. Twelve years later, without a prospect or an heir in sight, I can’t preserve my lies much longer.
