Page 4 of Of Rime and Ruin
I check her expression. That smile is already fading as the disappointment spreads.
Shit.My entire life, I’ve been her greatest letdown.
And it’s not just Winona. It’s Mother and Father, too. My entire family is counting on me to grow up and play my part. To release my grip on this silly dream of beinguseful.
No more pretending my future awaits beneath the waves. I cannot disappoint them again, not with something this important.
If I marry the land-dweller, will my sister finally be pleased?
She’s frowning now, watching with a weariness all too familiar to me. I tuck the stone into the pocket of my robe.
I grimace, nod, and then I lie. “Win, I’dlovesome cake.”
Chapter two
Aethan
I’mnaked,butnotin a good way. Naked in thewhere are my pants and how the fuck did I get herekind of way. And dripping wet to boot.
It’s the dead of night. The sconces in the hallway flicker with uninterrupted rhythm, casting long shadows across the stone floor of my castle’s lowest reaches. I stand in front of a heavy wooden door—inches from my nose. Its iron knocker smells of damp rust. My hand is raised, fingers curled tight as if to knock. Dark blue scales cover my knuckles where my skin is usually snow white. Veins thread across my fist, frosted like silkmite string before dawn.
The only sound is the soft splattering of water as it drips from my hair, pooling at my bare feet. How I got to the servant quarters remains a mystery. The last thing I remember is the warm weight of the furs on my bed upstairs. Here, the air is brisk and sharp, waking my senses—and it reeks of blood.
Fuck.
I know the signs. And this isn’t the first time I’ve woken from a trance, blue and bleeding. The blood is mine, oozing and warm on my ribs. A gash cuts across my abdomen, skin splitting over angry, aching flesh. I shake my head, but I can’t force my memory to focus. I can’t remember what I’ve done.
In the lamplight, I twist my hand and the scales crawl beneath my flesh like a thousand hurried legs. My skin fades from dark blue to white, the color and energy recoiling into my stomach, where it twists into an icy knot.
Before I can knock, the door opens, and light splits the darkness. I flinch and strain my eyes to adjust as the healer’s hollow face appears. “Your Majesty, I’ve been expecting you.” Lucas tips his head.
Has he?
He leads me through the doorway, pinching the wicks of candles with his long fingers to extinguish all but the lone stem on his squat, orderly desk. Smoke curls like ribbons, acrid in my nose.
His office is tidy, as usual. A small fireplace sits in the far corner, framed by bookshelves that reach the ceiling. Cabinets are lined with trinkets and vials. Old tomes are stacked on the desk, their chipped stone faces reflecting candlelight. Above the mantel, a taxidermied head of a frostcat hangs, surveying the room with glazed, black eyes and a permanent snarl.
“Here.” Lucas hands me a fur cloak, and I drape it over my shoulders to cut the chill.
He sets a pot to boil on the hearth, the lid clanking. With an iron rod, he arranges two stones on the coals and pokes the embers until they flare red. “What do you remember?”
I don’t answer. He already knows what I’ll say—it’s the same every time. The past few hours of my life are muddied. Like I tripped through time and landed here.
My memory comes in pieces: rocky shore. Waves lapping bare feet. Audrina’s full-moon face, with the lights of the aethersky rippling around her. That ice-hot feeling in my stomach, burning, edging me forward. Taking a step. Then another.
Another midnight swim.
Fuck.I pinch my nose until it hurts—a punishment or an effort to focus, I can no longer tell. I’ll break the habit as soon as I get the rest of my shit under control.
Lucas approaches, preparing his healing spell. With the soft lilt of his Voice, he coaxes a thread of golden light from his fingertips. The magic prods my skin with warm tendrils, slipping beneath the fibers and knitting the flesh together with a few quick passes. With a flick of his tune, he knots the spell, leaving nothing but a pink line behind. The scar joins the collection that decorates my skin. A web of secrets.
As the pain eases, I pull the cloak tighter. “How many casualties?”
“Nothing yet.”
Yet.
He removes the stones from the coals, tossing them between his calloused palms to cool them. He swipes them over my chest, shoulders, and temples. The stones are hot on my skin. Near burning. I grit my teeth. Rage flares with a burst of ice in my stomach, but it’s no match for the heat, and it quenches with a hiss, releasing its grip on my lungs.
