Page 88 of The Frost Queen's Blade

Elma nodded. “It was easier for me to ignore the weight of my responsibilities if I believed they were wrong for me. That somehow, I might avoid them if I tried hard enough.”

“And you feel differently now?”

“Yes,” said Elma, the admission raw on her tongue. “Now that it’s far, far too late.”

Cora caught Elma’s gaze. “I am truly sorry for what I did.”

“I know,” Elma said. “I understand why you did it.”

A sad smile caught at Cora’s lips. “There’s another reason I came to you. Rune.”

Fear, and a pale hope, sliced through Elma’s gut. She tensed, expecting the worst. “What of him?”

Cora leaned toward her as if worried the guards outside might overhear. “He’s alive. They’re keeping him in the dungeon, which shouldn’t be a surprise to you. And I overheard the men talking. Lord Godwin and the rest. They mean to have him executed in the arena.”

“Again?” Elma said, clutching the arms of her chair so tightly her fingers ached.

“Since it didn’t take last time…” Cora shrugged, her eyes sad. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“Thank you,” Elma said, the words coming from a mouth so far away she hardly heard herself. “When?”

“If I heard right, tomorrow.”

“I see.” Elma swallowed, forcing down what felt like a lump of glassy ice until the feeling sat heavy in her stomach.

Cora said goodbye then and drifted out of the room with a bowed head and watery eyes. Elma hardly noticed. Rune was still alive. By sundown tomorrow, he’d be dead. She had known they shared this fate, knew it was only a matter of time, but to have heard it from the lips of someone else somehow made the horror cut sharper. A ghost weapon made solid.

Elma went to the door again, catching the eye of the nearest guard. “I need to go to the dungeon,” she said, as firmly as she could manage.

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Planning to collude with your lover?”

“I wish only to say goodbye.” The words felt like jagged glass tumbling across her tongue, hurting and hurting.

“I think not,” said the guard.

An older guard, only a few feet away, turned to his colleague. “They’re bound for the chopping block,” he said. “May as well have a little pity.”

“Pity,” said the first guard, incredulous, “for a traitor queen?”

The other shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt us any. Could use a change of scenery, if I’m honest.”

“Fine,” grumbled the guard. “For you, not for her.”

“Cheers,” said the other guard, peeling away from the wall. “Come along then, Majesty.” He colored. “I mean…”

She waited, not caring what they called her, as long as they brought her to Rune.

“Slödafucker,” said the first guard, smirking cruelly. “That's her name.”

“Elma,” said the second guard, avoiding her gaze. “Come along.”

Five guards in total escorted Elma to the dungeon. It was overkill in the extreme — she was no Slödavan assassin — but she knew Godwin would not take any risks. He had taught her the art of combat himself, after all, and knew her abilities well.

She was allowed to go into the dungeon alone, with only one of the dungeon guards accompanying her. Her retinue stayed at the top of the narrow stairs, knowing there was nowhere else to go from the dungeon but up.

Her way lit dimly by the guard’s torch, Elma made her way to Rune’s cell. Nothing had changed since the last time she’d been there, when Rune was nothing but an enemy. Even then, what felt like lifetimes ago, Elma had been drawn to him. His wild eyes, the cruel curve of his lips.

Had she ever truly hated him? Or was hatred so close to some other emotion, some clench of the heart, that it had been all too easy to fall?

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