Page 40 of Frost Bound

Rolling onto her left side, she stared at the fireplace. The flames were long gone, the coals glowing softly in the hearth. Another spasm of pain shot through her, and she glanced once again at the window. It was still dark out. It was possible she’d only slept a few hours, if dawn hadn’t broken yet. Rain pattered on the roof, and she stifled a groan. She prayed they wouldn’t make her travel in the rain again. Even now, she could feel the stiffness in her fingers from the cold of the day’s ride.

Olwen’s snores somehow got louder, and Lia rolled her eyes. Despite how gritty they were, and how much she needed to sleep, she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with all that noise.

Quietly, she rolled toward the fire onto her hands and knees. Her back twinged as she began rolling up her pallet. She tied the thin cord around the bedroll and sat back on her knees before hauling herself to her feet. Goosebumps rose along her arms, and she smoothed her hands along her biceps to ward off the chill. Light flashed from the window, followed by another crack of thunder.

Lia stared at the king sound asleep on the bed. She spun the emerald ring on her finger. All she had to do was creep to the bed, poison the king for ten second, and then flee. Her stomach churned. Maybe she could beat Cosmos to the maple harvests.

What of the Haunts?

Sweeping the three giants slumbering on the floor, Dahlia knew she couldn’t do it. She’d never make it out alive.

And it’s wrong.

She crept to her cloak and slung it over her shoulders. It wasn’t completely dry, but it wasn’t soaking wet like it had been. Dahla tiptoed to the door, turned the handle, and pulled. The hinges creaked and she froze, glancing at the giantess sleeping behind the door.

Dahlia’s pulse leapt as she stared down into pitch eyes, narrowed with suspicion.

A good thing you didn’t approach the king.

She blew out a heavy breath and jerked her head toward the hallway. “Going for something to eat,” she whispered. “I’ll be by the fire.”

Flyka nodded once.

Lia edged into the hallway and closed the door. It was highly inappropriate to go into a public space dressed in one’s sleeping garments, but Dahlia was too hungry and tired to care. Plus, they were in Umberje—it was as rustic as it got in Astera. Surely, no one would begrudge her comfort.

You’re a princess now.

With a grumble, she buttoned the front of her decorative cloak. It covered enough that no one would know the difference.

Following the scent of bread and bacon, she descended the stairs into the main area of the inn. A simple wooden bar stood to the right, and table and chairs to her left. Three large chairs surrounded the fireplace, their faded fabric looking more inviting than shabby.

A man slept at one of the far tables, his feet propped up on top, a hat over his face. Dahlia eyed him and wove her way through the furniture before standing in front of the fireplace. The flames danced merrily, and finally some of the chill fled her bones.

Dahlia turned her back to the fireplace when a woman bustled out of a swinging door to the left of the bar. The buxom woman paused, blinking her gray eyes at Lia.

“What are you doing up, love?” She placed her hand on her round hips. “Me husband said you only just arrived.”

Lia smiled at her. “Couldn’t sleep.”

The innkeeper’s wife shook her head. “I suppose not with the way the storm is carrying on.” She held up a finger. “I have just the thing. You wait there.”

As if she would be leaving the fire anytime soon.

The woman pushed through the door once again, leaving Dahlia to her own thoughts and rumbling belly. When was the last time she’d eaten? Not yesterday. Was it really before she’d seen Cosmos? She placed a hand on her cramping stomach.

The innkeeper’s wife rushed back into the common room carrying a cup of steaming tea, a thick slice of bread with honey and butter, and a knitted blanket slung over the crook of her arm.

“Into the chair with you, missy,” the woman commanded. “From the looks of ya, it seems like a stiff wind could blow you over. That won’t do with the company you’re keeping.”

Lia plopped down in the nearest chair, sinking down into the worn cushions. The innkeeper’s wife handed her the cup of tea and she curled her fingers around the warmth with a happy sigh. There was nothing more pleasant than holding a cuppa on a cold day. The woman then set the bread on a small, dented side table beside the chair. She laid the blanket over Dahlia’s lap and then stepped back, surveying her handiwork.

“That’s better.”

Lia smiled at the older woman. “Thank you, madam.”

“Pssssh,” the woman said, waving a hand. “Call me Birdie.”

She took a sip of the milky tea and savored the cinnamon. “This is just what I needed.”

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