Page 113 of The Ruins of the Heartless Fae

“I shouldn’t have said anything at all,” he murmured as he finished clasping the cloak.

A chill settled in her bones at his nearness, and she unexpectedly found it soothing. It dissipated when he stepped back, and Kolfinna almost grabbed his hand to stop him, but her hand fell to her side.

“There,” he said, inspecting the cloak. The backdrop of shimmering chandeliers looked cheap and dim in contrast to his smile. “Now no one can see your outfit. Or, well, they can’t see all of it.”

The cloak dragged to her feet, but it wasn’t anything different than what the dress was already doing. But now she probably looked even more ridiculous, wearing a thick cloak that didn’t fit her, that wasclearlyBlár’s. She thumbed the material of the cloak and inhaled the scent of vanilla and cinnamon.

“They won’t say anything too outlandish now.” He continued to scrutinize her, and she suddenly felt hot under his gaze.

“Why do you always dress like … like it’s winter?” She pulled at the neckline of the cloak; the inside was lined with fur, and she was already sweating in it. “You do realize it’s warm outside, right?”

“My powers make me cold pretty much all the time.”

Kolfinna grabbed the clasp of the cloak and was about to unhook it, but Blár’s hand snaked around her wrist. His eyes were sharp and he leaned in closer so only she could hear him. “Don’t,” he said. “Keep it on and everyone will know not to mess with you. Do you understand?”

She froze, unsure what to think of his words. To be under the protection of Blár Vilulf was an unexpected and surprising turn of events. Out of everyone who could’ve spread their wings over her, he was the last person she expected.

Kolfinna cleared her throat. “But why are you doing this?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“You saved my life and I feelkindabad for almost killing you a few times, so this’ll make us even,” he said half-jokingly. He straightened the front of his dark grayish blue uniform, his gaze flitting over to the gold-laced paneling between the tall windows. “I can’t protect you all the time. I’m in the military and I go around all over the country, but if people know that you and I are friends, they’ll be wary to do anything to you.” He met her eyes once more. “And once you’re a Royal Guard, you’ll be under Fenris’s protection. You’ll have two black ranks on your side, so I think you’ll be fine.”

Kolfinna averted her gaze, suddenly feeling too hot—and it wasn’t the cloak this time. “I had no idea I was upgraded from suspicious murderer to friend.”

“Friendis a loose term,” he said. “I’d sayacquaintancefits us better. I don’t know if we can be friends.”

“Ouch.” Her tone came out jovial, but it was only to hide the cold shock pulsing through her veins. She hadn’t expected that. “You really know how to hurt someone’s feelings. And why do you think we can’t be friends?”

“Do you want to know the truth?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, his breath tickling her ear. “You’re far too pretty to bejusta friend.”

Blár’s voice seemed to linger in her ear even as he pulled away, and when she looked up at him, he didn’t look away. She almost forgot to breathe, completely lost in the intense blue of his gaze.

The door to the throne room suddenly wrenched open and their connection was severed. Kolfinna blinked back, feeling her cheeks redden with warmth. Blár turned toward the Royal Guard who appeared at the threshold. Kolfinna didn’t have time to dwell on the moment because the guard motioned them forward.

“The king and Captain Asulf are waiting,” the guard said.

Magni, Truda, and Blár went first, but Kolfinna hesitated where she stood; her fate would be sealed in that room. Whether she was branded as a murderer or a free woman would be decided today. She breathed out deeply and followed behind them, her heart racing.

The instant they walked through those doors, a wave of tension hit Kolfinna. It roiled and churned in the room with enough force to be an actual disaster. Eyes were on her in seconds, roving over her body and face in curiosity and animosity. She faltered in her steps, ready to spin around and run out of the room, but she kept moving forward. Heat spread over her cheeks and ears, her blood rushing to her face.

There was a carpeted path set in front of her, and on both sides of that carpet were dozens of seats, all of which were occupied. Some people wore military uniforms, while others wore fancy dresses with heavy jewelry. They watched her like vultures, ready to tear her body and pluck her innards. The sea of faces sent a wave of nausea over her; they all blended together into an angry storm.Everyone’s attention was on her—not on Blár, or Truda, or Magni. Just her.

A murmur spread throughout the room slowly.

She wanted to throw up—the urge was so strong that she almost spun around to leave—but when she lowered her head, the fur collar of the cloak tickled her nose, and she breathed in Blár’s scent clinging to the cloak. It soothed her, and she felt like she could breathe again. The nausea slowly ebbed away and she kept her gaze glued to the back of Blár’s head and tried to ignore the pointed stares.

The hushed voices silenced when the room grew colder and colder, and Blár’s footsteps resounded louder and heavier than anyone’s voice.

Blár stopped in front of the throne and fell into a sweeping bow. Magni and Truda did the same, and Kolfinna scrambled to mimic them.

The king sat on his throne in the center of the room, his chin practically pointing up to the ceiling as he peered down at them all. He was more ordinary than Kolfinna could’ve ever imagined. She had expected a regal and handsome man, like in all the stories of princes and kings, but he was extremely plain-looking with ordinary gray-tinged russet hair, tawny eyes, and wrinkled skin around his mouth. If he hadn’t been wearing all the fancy regalia of a king—the crown, the bushy cloak, the heavily adorned clothes—she wouldn’t have remembered his face at all.

King Leiknir narrowed his cold eyes at Kolfinna, and a shiver ran down her spine. He might have looked like an ordinary person, but he held the gaze of a ruler. Fenris stood beside him stared at her as well, but his gaze wasn’t as cold and lacked the revulsion she saw in the king’s. He was garbed in his white and gold uniform, his red hair contrasting with the white, and his silver eyes boring into her. Or more specifically, at the cloak she wore.

“You may all rise.” King Leiknir raised his hand.

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