Page 54 of Frost and Death
His black hair blows in the wind, and I hate how it makes his scar more stunning. “Don’t even try it,” Rick threatens.
I cease my efforts as he lifts me, placing me on the back of the saddle, patting his steed again as he says, “Can’t have you trying to steer us in the wrong direction.”
I wouldn’t even know how to do that. I’ve only ever been in a carriage.
Rick smirks before mounting in one swift motion.
I barely have a chance to find something to hold on to when he whistles, his leg brushing against the steed, clicking his mouth twice.
The horse surges into a gallop, leaving the stables behind.
I lurch forward and seek Rick’s shirt for support.
Riding is uncomfortable, the wind slashing across my face and ripping my crown and veil off my head.
We inch closer to the castle gates, and my body rocks back and forth, struggling to peer behind to my home drifting farther and farther away.
Guards fill the bridge at the gate, arrows nocked and pointed at Rick and me.
I yell into the wind, hoping to command them for fear of their arrows hitting me and not Rick. “Hold your fire!”
I don’t want to get shot, but I also worry that Rick might do something drastic if my guards attack. No one else should get hurt. So many people are already affected by my dreaded winter.
I put my heart and trust in Niko that he will take care of the kingdom while he comes for me.
Faces of each soldier on the bridge become clearer, and a familiar person takes shape.
Niko.
My heart skips a beat at the relief he is safe. But knowing Niko, he is not going to let Rick get away with this.
The shouting of “Close the gates” comes from Niko as we approach.
Rick utters a command to his steed, and our speed increases.
My stomach drops as the gates close.
We aren’t going to make it.
But the large black stallion’s pace picks up even more, a chuckle vibrating from Rick’s chest. We fly through the gates, mere inches left between us and the guards failing to stop the horse.
My faith in being saved ceases as I crash into Rick’s back when he tugs on the reins. I peer over my shoulder toward my guards on the bridge, seeking Niko’s face one last time.
But I clasp Rick’s vest, shaking him when my guards all nock their arrows. “Rick, my guards—they aren’t standing down.”
“Sure,” he replies, whisking the reins once more.
I brave another glance, my heart lurching from my chest when Niko’s red hair separates him from the rest of the guards, my eyes widening as he grabs a bow from the guard beside him, notching it himself.
Is he…No.
He wouldn’t!
Niko releases the arrow aimed toward us, and the fear that a weapon is headed directly for me overpowers my trust in Niko and his skillful aim.
I am unable to suppress my sheer terror. “ARROW!”
Rick tugs the bridle, guiding us to drift as a sharp searing pain pierces me.
