Page 40 of Of Rime and Ruin
Hope burning in my chest, I open my mouth and dig in.
Cold bites through my teeth, and I yelp. Pain flares in my nose and zings into my brain, and I squint my eyes against the cold.
Shit.
“Oh, sorry,” Perrin says. “Ouch.” He jangles the keys and metal creaks. Perrin opens the door, sneaking through a tiny gap, and shuts himself in behind it.
“I can’t open that gate for you,” he says, patting his keys with another jingle, “but this cell isn’t too deep. If we tunnel up, you’d pop out in the courtyard. Easy peasy.”
My jaw drops. “We?”
Perrin scratches his head, ruffling that mop of blond curls, then grins. “It’s technically not breaking the rules. He said”—Perrin clears his throat, dropping into a low gravel reminiscent of the king—“don’t let her through that gate.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips. I bring my hand to my mouth to cover it, swatting the bubbles away. “You’re not a very good guard, are you?”
He winks, but it’s more like a one-and-a-half-eyed blink. “And you’re not a very good spy.”
We pick the corner of the cell, where another guard would have to strain to see us. His claws cling to the ceiling like a silkmite, and he starts munching. The ice crunches in his teeth with ease. I rub my jaw, warming the ache, as I watch.
Soon, he’s carved the beginning of a tunnel, wide enough for my shoulders to slip through. He grins at me, snow sticking between his tusks.
“I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.
I laugh. “Sometimes it’s fun to break the rules.”
The ice is softer now, inside the tunnel. I join him, digging with my hands through the powder until the daylight fades and his day-shift ends.
He promises to help me again tomorrow, and I promise not to get in trouble with the night-shift guard.
The gate squeaks closed, Perrin safely on the other side, just in time for the burly night guard to arrive. I pose on the floor of my cage, tail drooping, somber expression, and he scoffs at my listlessness.
“Not much of a spy, is she?” the guard grunts, settling into his position.
Perrin shrugs, glancing back to half-wink at me. “That’s what I said.”
Chapter eighteen
Aethan
Gothroughthemotions,Lucas said. Establish my kingly routine. Whatever the fuck that means.
How hard can it be?
I pull on my thickest fur cloak and exit the castle grounds. The darkwood halls give way to bright white sky, prompting me to squint and shield my eyes.
The posted guard startles and straightens at my appearance. I hesitate, letting the door hang half open as my mouth goes dry. My hand tightens on the doorknob, not yet ready to let go.
The city’s main courtyard is a short walk from my back door, but it’s been years since I’ve entered its gates. Am I afraid of my own subjects? Maybe. Or maybe they have too many warm, fuzzy feelings, and I can’t bear to see it. Happiness is fragile; I’m not to be trusted with it.
Glaciers stretch around the gated courtyard, shielding it from the wind. They taper toward the far end of the yard, opening intoa wide white plain littered with small round homes of ice and leathers.
Snow falls gently, dusting the ground with cottony tufts. Footprints track across the snow, revealing dark stone beneath. Guppies play in the central garden, hiding and seeking among the large, jagged rocks and sapwood conifers. Their shrieks fill the air, blending with the chatter of market day.
Vendors camp around the yard in wooden huts, displaying their wares beneath leather canopies. Their tables are sprawled with trinkets and treats. Merfolk amble among the booths, visiting shops and clutching mugs of hot drinks.
They look happy. Well fed and warm. That’s a good sign, right? A good king has happy subjects. My stomach twists, and I look away. Their happiness is a cruel coincidence; that’s all. Lucas is right, and they deserve better.
“Sire, do you require an escort?” the guard addresses me, his voice piercing my reverie. He’s young. Merman. His ears fan out like fins, his dark hair tied in a neat bun. His nose quivers under my assessment, and his gray eyes flash in fear.
