Page 45 of A Throne of Blood and Ice

Ugh.

Those words have tortured me relentlessly the past few days, the possessiveness that overcame me. How she must have interpreted them.

How she was right to interpret them.

I rub the back of my neck, half because I’m embarrassed, half to tether myself. Like I think I can physically hold myself back if I need to. But then I find myself by her side, like I’ve simply taken a step, and the space between us has shrunk to accommodate my desire. She’s close enough that I can feel the heat emanating off of her. “Blaise, about the other day—”

“I think I’ve found something,” she says, quickly gesturing toward the book and scooting away from me in the process. Her gaze darts to the corner. “Gunter won’t admit it, but he’s impressed.”

I straighten and turn, noticing for the first time that Blaise and I are not alone in the room. I’m not sure how I missed Gunter’s presence, the sound of his breath, but I did. I suppose I was too fixated on Blaise to process anything else.

“I see you’re up and well,” Gunter says through gritted teeth, and though his tone is cheerful, his expression is not.

Shame washes over me, enveloping me, and I hurriedly cross the room, putting my back and as much distance between myself and Blaise as possible.

Blaise clears her throat much more loudly than I imagine servants are taught to do. The effect is dramatic, as I imagine she means it to be, and I have to admit that it works in dissolving the tension in the room. “This right here”—I suppose she’s gesturing to the grimoire in her lap, though I keep my gaze fixed on the notes I left on the counter three days ago—“contains some rather interesting notions regarding celestial magic. I’m assuming you’ve heard of it,” Blaise says, mimicking a rather condescending tone.

Gunter says nothing, at which point I realize she’s addressing me. I chance turning to face her and instantly regret it, because she’s got her head cocked to the side and resting on her hand as her dark hair falls in loose waves and pools on the dais.

My throat tightens. “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

Her brown eyes shutter, and she looks taken aback. “I wasn’t asking in earnest, but all right,” she says, looking mildly offended. “Anyway, this magister wrote about fae ascetics who separated themselves from the Old Magic in their blood for religious reasons. Apparently it’s quite difficult to do, but they managed it by harboring celestial events, usually comets, and amplifying them with a blood sacrifice. Obviously. Because when does a blood sacrifice not come in handy?”

Blaise flicks hers palm outward, but even the wordbloodforming on her lips has my stomach lurching. She must glimpse a shadow of the bloodlust on my face, because she frowns then shakes her head, like she’s ridding herself of a mirage.

“Bloodisthe most potent of binding agents,” Gunter recites, probably for the thousandth time.

Blaise continues, “It seems the ascetics’ favorite celestial event to harbor was Lazarus’s Comet. At least, that’s the name that keeps popping up.”

“Lazarus’s Comet won’t return for another century,” I say, to which she scowls and flicks her wrist, as if to banish my negativity.

“Well, what about a full moon?”

Gunter grunts.

“If you’re asking whether it will return sooner than Lazarus’s Comet, the answer is yes.” It comes out with more bite than I mean it to, and I cross my arms to hide the fact my knuckles are paling.

Frustration heats Blaise’s cheeks, and I can’t help but wonder if the queen intentionally brought back the most physically expressive person in the entirety of Alondria just to torture me.

As if in answer, she makes a point of tossing her long hair over her shoulder, and the scent of jasmine and vanilla that wafts through the room has me digging my fingernails into my sides.

“What I meant is, Cinderella only comes out on the full moon. If the moon can provide her enough power to”—she swallows—“you know, turn me into a ruthless psychopath, then maybe we could use it to rip her slimy fingers out of my brain.”

Gunter and I exchange a look. His gaze dips down to my crossed arms, where he no doubt notices the way I’m physically holding myself back. His eyes narrow.

“I can’t imagine that the full moon would be a powerful enough celestial occurrence to sever a parasite from its host,” I say, more to Gunter than I do to Blaise. I can tell it riles her, because she hops onto her feet and stomps across the room toward us.

When she approaches, I tense, and her head jerks back in offense. “If you don’t like the way I smell, tell your precious queen to let me bathe.”

Shocked, I fumble for words, but I can’t seem to find any, not with the roar in my head that’s drowning out everything else now that she’s near.

Fates, this is going to be more of a problem than I accounted for.

Blaise scoots herself into the space between me and Gunter, brushing her hips up against my side in the process.

I should back away, give her some space, but I don’t.

At least, not until Gunter eyes me over the top of her head.

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