Page 37 of Frost Bound

“Fire and ice,” Eyri whispered, looking over his shoulder. “Who knewvallescould sing like that? It’s beautiful.”

Neve grabbed a hold of himself and slowed his horse until the human caught up with him. She huddled in her fancy cloak, only her lips and nose visible in the dark night. Her song rose to a crescendo.

“Enough!” he yelled.

She jerked, the hood of her cloak turning in his direction, her ballad cut short. It made something inside his chest ache.

“Are you so foolish?” he barked in the common tongue. He’d never quite mastered it like Flyka or Eyri. The words felt clumsy.

“I’m just singing.”

“We are in enemy territory, traveling with not one but two royals. You are giving our … how do you say it? Position away.”

“And our horses do not?” she quipped back, voice thready. “Oryourshouting?”

“The rain drowns out their sounds, and you…” He shook his head. He did not need to explain himself to her. “Be silent.”

“Please,” she snapped, a little more heat in her voice. “Please, my lady.”

He stared at her. She thought him nothing but a servant. Neve didn’t have to yield to thisvalles.

And yet, noting the way her lips had pressed into a thin line, he’d made her angry. Good, then he wouldn’t suffer alone. Neve had a part to play. He swallowed down the curse curling on his tongue. “Please, princess, stay silent so you do not puteveryone’s lives at risk for the sake of your amusement,my lady,” he said, pouring every bit of arrogance into his tone instead.

Her mouth popped open, a little puff of hot air escaping.

“Something you must say?” he pressed.

“Not to you.” In an instant, all traces of ire were gone. Only frigid compliance left.

For some reason, he didn’t like it. And that made no sense.

Olwen had procuredtwo rooms for them at an inn on the outskirts of Northern Umberje.

Neve assessed the building as they arrived. It was a bit rundown, but if trouble arrived on their doorstep, it would be easy to dispose of the evidence. He led his horse right outside the stable and swung down from the saddle, his boots landing in a puddle. He pulled his bedroll off the horse as a young child stumbled out of the dimly lit stables, rubbing his eyes. Flyka cut him off and handed him a small bag of coins before giving him instructions for their horses.

He frowned as he spotted a couple embracing each other, their lips locked together. Neve practically gagged. Mouth mating was not a Loriian custom. It was a disgusting human practice. Godsteeth, he hoped thevallesnever tried something like that on him.

Eyri jumped down as well and frowned, his attention on the couple, then moving to the princess. “Are you going to help her?” Eyri muttered in Loriian.

The princess was untangling herself from her soggy cloak and dress while appearing to figure out the best way to climb down. It was utterly ridiculous. Every movement she made seemed uncoordinated and stiff.

Neve crossed his arms. “She specifically told me not to touch her, so no, I will not be helping her.”

He continued to watch the spectacle as she swung her leg over the horse and stared at the ground. A smile curved the corner of his lips. Just what would the haughty princess do?

His amusement fled when she pushed away from the horse and dropped to the ground. Her knees buckled and she took a step, tripping on her skirts. Thevallespitched forward, hands outstretched. Without a thought, Neve caught her elbow before she fell face-first into a deep mudpuddle. His fingers curled around her dainty forearm, noting how his hand engulfed it. It was almost comical.

“I’ve got it,” the princess muttered.

She was standing, pale face tilted up to him, cheeks and nose an alarming shade of red. It bothered him just how much her color changed.

The princess coughed, the color in her cheeks deepening.

Neve released her like he’d been burned, and she swept past him with all the dignity of a drowned rat. Just how long had he been staring? He followed her, making sure to kick the mud off his boots before entering the inn. The inviting warmth of a fire welcomed him into the space. The room was long and rectangular, with a bar at the very far end. Olwen waited for them, holding the keys in his hands, no innkeeper to be seen.

The princess left a trail of water behind her as she walked to the hearth and held her hands out to the fire. Neve winced. How could she be so close? Even from here, it was warm. Sweat started to bead on the back of his neck.

“How do you want this to go?” Olwen asked in Loriian as Neve reached the bar.

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