Page 50 of Of Rime and Ruin
A vein pulses along my neck. “No.”
The library is all but empty—Horace sits in a rocking chair by the hearth, his eyes unfocused as he reads a stone.
Lucas drops his voice to a whisper. “You were careless. That’s not what I meant by creating a kingly routine. What if you exploded among all those people? You barely kept it together long enough to get out of sight. And you have seen no one since. Once-and-done is not good enough, Sire.”
I flinch, fingers digging deeper into the fur. Wasn’t he the one who told me to try interacting with my subjects? “What do you want me to do then? Wake early, exercise, take my tea, study for twenty minutes, stretch for five. Go greet a guppy on the street. Rinse and repeat till I die?”
“That’s a start, yes,” Lucas grunts, sorting through the books before me. With each tablet, his frown deepens.
“And how goes your research? Anything useful?” I ask.
“It’s hardly been a week, Your Majesty. I’ll need more time than that. It may require forbidden access, you see.”
The books he needs are underwater. Goddessdamn. “I’m out of time, Lucas. Work with me here.”
“If I could have access to the original library, it may speed my research.”
Meaning, if I could stay out of the water for one fucking night, he might make some headway. My hands roam over the cloak, gripping the frostcat fur. Can I keep myself land-bound? What will it take? More locks? A numbing spell?
The Beast always finds a way out. Every. Damn. Time.
I speak around the knot in my throat. “I cannot promise your safety.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.” Lucas taps three tablets together, stacking them neatly. “As you were.”
With a whisper of wind, he leaves me to brood. I shove the cloak aside.
What was the point of bringing this to me? To remind me of my failure?
Freezing cold and locked in a cage.The princess’s accusation echoes as guilt stabs sharply.
I pick the next book and activate its spell, but I can’t focus on the words. All I can see is the siren’s pretty face. Her lips, quivering. Her skin, damp and cold to the touch.
No way to treat a princess.
Fuck. I wouldn’t know where to start. A chamber in my palace, three meals a day, and no more spy nonsense—that was her request.
It shouldn’t be too difficult.
Except then she’d behere. In my home. Taunting me with her very presence. Close enough to kill me in my sleep or slip poison into my tea.
My stomach gurgles, running on empty. Evening light streams through the windows. I’ve spent all day here without breakfast or lunch. I thank Horace for his time and hurry from the library.
When I find Deirdre in the dining hall, she flays me with her glare. “Your Majesty.” She forces a smile. “Ready for dinner?”
The rich smell of food wafts over me, floating out from the kitchen. Guilt stabs again, sharper this time.
Nahlani must be hungry. And I’m sitting here, about to feast like a cold-hearted jackass.
I’m not a good king. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be a good person. My heart skips at the thought.
“Deirdre, send for the princess and alert the chef,” I say. “She will join me for dinner tonight.”
Chapter twenty-two
Nahla
Ipullthebonethrough my teeth, cleaning the final bit of meat from the clawbeast’s prize catch. With a flick of my fingers, I stack the bone with the rest of the pile in my frigid cell.
