Page 149 of A Throne of Blood and Ice

Clarissa hisses, and spits more than speaks. “Chrysanthemum ran away. Eloped with a farm boy from the country. She ruined us,” she says, which answers my other question—whether my other stepsister, Elegance, is still in the picture. Apparently she is, though I can’t scent her in the house.

I humph. “Well. Good for her. Perhaps I’ll visit my sister and congratulate her when I’m done with you.”

My stepmother bristles, and I quite enjoy it. “Your sister is out birthing babies to a farmhand while Elegance and I are left to ruin. The guard was more than displeased when she ran off. He demanded we hand over our entire fortune, or he’d turn us in to the king himself.”

“By your entire fortune, I’m assuming you mean the money the queen gave you in exchange for selling me into slavery.” My grin is saccharine, though my tone is not.

Clarissa flits her hand dismissively. “You clearly weaseled your way out of it regardless, so I don’t know why it should be of any difference to you. If not for me, you’d still be locked up in that cell.”

Her gaze scours my body, and I see it then. The realization in her eyes that I have changed.

“What did they do to you?” she asks, her eyes widening in horror. I watch as they trace the shadows set underneath my eyes, the way my skin is free of the blotches that so often speckled it, the way my limbs are more lithe, my body firm and athletic.

She tries to hide it, tries to escape my notice, but I catch her checking my ears.

I am more beautiful than I once was.

She’s realizing that too.

“Oh, all sorts of things,” I say, unable to help the way my lips curve as she squirms. “Or did you not think to ask, when you sold me for a handful of silvers, what the queen might intend to do with me? Did you know about the experiments, Clarissa? Were you aware of the weapon she sought to create?”

A twisting of the truth, of course, but oh do I revel in the way it makes for a glorious shudder.

I kneel before saying, “Did you know you’re the first person I’ve sought out since the queen set me free? She wished to reward me for the things I’ve accomplished for her.”

Clarissa scrambles to her feet and lunges for the door, but I block her path before the woman can as much as blink.

“Sit back down,” I say through clamped teeth.

She does as I say, but there’s more hate in her eyes than fear. “You selfish brat of a little girl. After all I did for you.”

But I’m crouched next to her, tracing my finger across her throat like I’m marking the intended path of a blade. “All you did forme?” I whisper. “You locked me up in this attic. You locked up a child like I was a feral animal to be caged.”

To my stepmother’s credit, she doesn’t shrivel in my presence, not even when the aura of death sluices off of me in waves. “I wouldn’t have considered you a child. Children don’t whore themselves out to—”

“I’m losing patience with you, Clarissa.”

Clarissa tightens, and I can smell the fear rolling off her.

But Clarissa is not a fawn to sprint at the first rustle of danger.

She’s an adder, and when she is backed into a corner, she has no qualms about using her fangs.

“What do you want from me, girl?” she asks, gesturing to the near-empty attic. “As you can see, I have no coin to offer you.”

“You know what I want,” I say, but she only flicks her brows upward in faux confusion. “Where is my child?”

Clarissa’s voice is sickeningly sweet, the edges of her lips as sharp as a razor’s edge. “Are you sure you want to know? Look at this life you’ve found for yourself. Prince Evander’s little vagabond, a runaway and plunderer and thief. Dishonorable as ever. Now why would you wish to burden yourself with a child?”

“Because this is notachild we’re talking about. It’smychild. My child you took from me, stole from me. My child you sold for a handful of pretty dresses, and—”

Sorrow takes hold of my throat, crushing my words until they sputter for air, gasp and die out.

She flits her hand. “I told you long ago that if I could have gotten any money for the child, I would have.”

“Fine. You did it to save your own name. To keep the town gossip from ruining your reputation. I’m sure you thought it would soil your strategy of taking on ill husbands, then inheriting their hard-earned wealth.”

She smirks. “Most of it wasn’t hard-earned. Give me some credit, my dear.”

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