Page 49 of The Frost Touched Queen

Let me believe thatmyKat lived.

That she was still inside this ice sculpture of a woman.

All she needed was to be set free.

It took me a minute for my feet to find their way back to solid ground, for reality to slap me in the face, but damn was it the sweetest minute I’ve tasted in the longest time.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and before the night was over, we were back to our defined warring corners, the haze of youthful memories no longer clouding our senses and judgment.

And all of that would be good and well, if it wasn’t for this unexpected visit that stands before me now.

“With me? Your queen wishes to dine with me? Again? Tonight?” I rush out to ask, since I’m at a complete loss as to why Katrina’s handmaiden, Inessa, is once again in my tent extending such an invitation.

“Yes, Your Highness. Queen Katrina insists on it.”

The hell is she up to?

Bewildered at this unexpected change of events, I look to Brick to see what his thoughts are on the matter, but the fucker doesn’t even look my way, too focused on the stern-faced beauty in our midst.

“Brick? Would you mind escorting the queen’s handmaiden out for a few minutes while I consider her invitation?”

By the way his eyes light up, my general looks like he’s just hit pay dirt in receiving such a command.

“My king—” Inessa interjects, not happy that I have to think on her mistress’s proposal, but I cut in before she has time to give me her objections.

“It will only take but a minute, I assure you. Brick, please escort Inessa out.”

“Of course, my king,” he says, all smiles, but as he rushes to escort her out, I call out to him again.

“Brick, let one of the guards watch over our guest and return to me at once.”

His ecstatic expression falls flat to the floor with that.

“As you wish, my king,” he replies, deflated.

I watch the unlikely pair walk out of my tent before I attempt to move a muscle. It’s only when Brick returns that I jump out of my seat and crook my finger to him, commanding him to me. Begrudgingly he eats the distance between us, already having a fair idea of what I’m about to say.

“These are the times that I need someone to give me counsel, Brick. Someone who can keep a cool head about him when I cannot. I need my general, not some lovestruck fool,” I admonish, placing both my hands on his shoulders as his cheeks turn even redder than his hair. “Now, are you the man that I need, or not?”

“I am, my king,” he grunts, nostrils flaring. “I’m no fool.”

“I said lovestruck fool,” I instigate.

“Not one of those either. I got my head in the game. I do,” he promises, giving me his meanest glower.

“Good. Glad to hear it. Now, General, when at war, do we invite our enemies to dine with us?”

“No, my king. The only dining we do is when we feast on their bones after defeating them on the battlefield.”

“As it should be. So tell me what you make of our so-called queen inviting me to supper a second time in as many nights?”

“She’s springing a trap. That is the only reason she would be doing such a thing.”

“Aye, but what kind of trap?” I venture, looking up at the ceilings as if the gods will answer that question for me.

It’s Brick’s scoff, though, that ends up being my reply.

“Do you have something to add?” I cock a brow. “If so, say it, man, and stop wasting what precious little time we have.”

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