Page 30 of Slaying the Frost King

“Tell me the truth. I deserve to know why we have done this for several days now?”

“Come to my bedchamber tonight.” He waved her off, lifting his brows. “Now fly, little bird.”

Eirah tightened her fists as blue magic poured out of her.

13

MOROZKO

Blue magic blasted from Eirah’s fingertips. Morozko’s brows furrowed, and he wondered justwhatshe was capable of. Producing magic hadn’t surprised him, he’d seen it, and now Morozko knewhehad a part in it. For it was his blood that stirred her abilities to life. Yet, shifting into an owl… he hadn’t seen that. He could have deemed her a shifter—one created and not born—but this was no shifter ability.

Morozko didn’t know what she was. There had been a woman, long ago, when he was a boy, who’d served in his mother’s court. She was a so-called witch. He’d witnessed her perform parlor tricks in the throne room, pleasing the noble frost demons, but she was no more than a trickster. She’d been his mother’s confidant until Maranna felt threatened and dragged her out into the snow, thrust her onto the ground, and summoned an ice spear.

In our court, we slay traitors because we cannot risk having snakes slithering about.

And with one careless thrust, Maranna impaled Klinta.

Of course, his mother would force him to endure such a spectacle. It was a lesson, a warning that whoever rose against her would suffer. But Morozko always wondered if thewitchtruly had been guilty? He never knew.

Still, Klinta had never exhibited actual magic, nor had she ever shifted. Which posed the questionagain: what was Eirah? Witch? Shifter? Both?

Morozko kept pushing Eirah to see the extent of her abilities, hoping to find familiarity in her power, but there was none. Even as magic leaped within her, there wasn’t a hint of recognition.

He dragged his tongue along a sharp canine and chuckled with a confidence he didn’t feel. For all the time he spent in Eirah’s company, taunting and demanding more from her, there was little Morozko knew about her. She was as unknown to him as her budding abilities.

The initial panic he experienced in the vision of when he first saw the magic bursting from her toward him hit Morozko at that moment. She could slay him if she so wished. He was certain of that. Or, at the very least, hold him captive since now she knew he was tied to the land. Whether her magic was tested or not, she had the strength within her, for he’d seen it himself in his visions.

“We should return inside. I think you’ve had enough fluttering about.” His voice was cool, but his gaze didn’t venture far from her glowing digits.

Eirah’s frustration with his continuous sidestepping grew visible. “You will answer me.” A plea melded with her tone, barely detectable, but Morozko was listening.

Tension stiffened her shoulders, and Morozko recalled the way her body had responded to his, as if it yearned for his lips to do more than trail kisses along her flesh. More than his tongue dragging along her sweet skin and the pressure of his hardened length pressing against her center. He despised the notion hewantedto do more, too. To nip along the slope of her breast and watch her come undone as he pleasured her.

“Will I?” He glanced toward the sky, needing a moment to reel himself in. “I don’t believe Ihaveto do anything.” He dropped his gaze to her again. This time, he homed in on her pulse and the way it thrummed wildly. Morozko had seen her bare, held her in his arms as he carried her from the bath to her bed, but he hadn’t lingered on each detail, hadn’t committed them to memory, either. He couldn’t afford another complication in the tangled web of his vision and the matters of Frosteria. However, here she was, standing before him with her hand stretched out, gawking at her fingertips.

Eirah glanced up at him, a hint of panic in her eyes. “Don’t come any closer until you tell me the truth. Why have we been doing this? Why do you keep having me fly out here? Why won’t you just sacrifice me?” Her full lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped forward.

Every time she pried, he sidestepped, and to her, Morozko supposed he came across as unwilling, which was just as well. But ‌he kept pushing her to discover what she was capable of, and his vision wouldn’t allow him to sacrifice her. Not yet.I have to know what you are.“Would you prefer careening into a chandelier or the dull air rather than the lively wind whispering through your wings?” His voice rumbled across the frozen cobblestone courtyard as he carefully approached.

Eirah studied her hand, a look of horror on her face as blue sparks crackled from her digits. She then shakily held her palm out toward him as if she was going to strike him down. “Are you really willing to find out? Because of you, I can somehow change into a bird, you can hear my thoughts in that form, and now, and now… what kind of magic is this, youprick? I should use whatever this is on you to bind you in a box. You’ve taken everything from me.” Tears beaded her lashes, her body racking with sobs.

He frowned as she wept but didn’t move forward to embrace her. She had every right to cry—none of this was her fault. It was because of the villagers who had thought they were wiser than he, that he needed a sacrifice. And, himself, for tricking her into drinking his blood.

Morozko pushed his hair from his face and sighed. “I am more than willing to find out, Eirah.” He shrugged a shoulder, extending a hand in welcome. “You may try to use it against me, yet I must warn you, I don’t advise it.”

Eirah exhaled, but it sounded more like a growl. She scarcely moved her arm when a blast of blue energy careened Morozko’s way.

Before it struck him, he raised his hands, forming a shield of ice. The blast ricocheted off the surface, struck a stone gargoyle, and it shattered.

Eirah turned her head, staring at what she’d done.

Morozko crossed the distance between them, mindful she could suddenly unleash her power again. What if the blasthadstruck him? He reached for her hand, and she yanked away from him.

Eirah’s eyes widened. “I at least need to know why this is happening? Don’t I deserve that?” she whispered.

“Come to my room this evening as I asked.” His jaw shifted, and he attempted to grasp her hand again. This time, Eirah allowed it, though her body continued to tremble. Her dark eyes met his, hesitant and perhaps even still a bit suspicious.

Magic hummed beneath her skin as Morozko caressed between her thumb and forefinger, and a dizzying warmth spread through him. A gentle, intoxicating brushing against his subconscious that longed to dive deeper. Before whateverthatfeeling was sunk its barbs into his mind, Morozko lurched backward, dropping her hand as if it burned him.

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