Page 253 of Kingdoms of Night

Not that the woman appreciated him. Enid had seen the way Geraint had chased after Loren during the tournament. And she had cast him off again when Enid had asked for his help.

That was the way of relationships between male specimens and female specimens. As soon as the male landed their stamens, they had no more use for the female and would kick them to the dirt.

Her ire should not be directed at Geraint. The knight had extended a hand to Enid when she had been down. He had come to her aid with little to no information, with no hesitation. If anything, he should be commended for keeping his word.

She felt a twinge of guilt for bringing him into this. Perhaps she could end this without any of his blood being shed? Though with the heat coming off the knight’s back in waves as he squared off with the frost giant, Enid thought that weed had been pulled.

“I understand you might be getting cold feet,” said Vidar. The prince hadn’t once glanced at Geraint, even though the knight stood in front of Enid. Vidar continued to look right through him.

The wind whistled as Vidar looked over his shoulder. His men stood gaping at Enid as though they wanted to warm her stems. After a throat clearing from their prince, the men rifled up a hearty chorus of guffaws.

It took Enid twice as long to figure out what was funny.

“Cold feet,” said one of Vidar’s lackeys. “Good one, your highness.”

Vidar turned back to her with a smirk. “Don’t worry your pretty petals. I’ll keep you warm at night. In the daytime, we'll rule together.”

"I have no interest in playing games of thrones,” said Enid, more to herself than anyone else. Because she knew not one of these males was listening to her. “I just want to take root in fertile ground."

“There’s a hot house in the castle,” Vidar said, jerking his thick thumb over his shoulder. “We’ll go there to warm your stem after we take our vows.”

Right. They all thought she wouldn’t balk at trading one gilded cage for another. Surprisingly, Vidar must have read the distaste on her face because his features iced over in displeasure. Then they hardened into possessive determination.

That was the look Enid hated most. In the high court, courtiers were all saccharine smiles. So long as they thought she could give them what they wanted. When they learned she could not, most turned their backs on her, believing her useless.

She wasn’t useless. Just powerless.

What none of them understood was that Enid had no autonomy. Not truly. Her every move, her every breath, was ruled over by her father. He held her roots in a tight bind that she doubted she would ever break free from.

"Your flower was given to me,” Vidar said with frost in his tone. “You're mine."

"I am no man's."

Vidar reached for her. Enid readied her vines with the sharpest thorns. She would need no self-protection. A sword sliced the air between her and Vidar.

The blade sliced through the icicle that was Vidar’s index finger. The digit fell to the snow-caked earth with a thud. All eyes lowered to the finger and the blue blood staining the white snow.

“The lady said no,” said the knight. “I’ve come to understand that isn’t the first time she’s said that word to you.”

Enid frowned. It was the first time she’d said no to Vidar.

"Who is this little man?" Vidar peered down at Geraint as he blew on his index finger. The decapitated tip iced over to reform the top. Vidar opened and closed his fist, as though getting accustomed to his new digit. “A present from your father? I’ve always wanted a human.”

"I am her champion,” said Geraint. “I challenge you to a duel for the lady’s honor.”

The cold wind whistled through the air. Vidar looked over his shoulder at his cronies. He didn’t need to give a signal for them to laugh this time. The men were already smirking as they peered at the oak tree that was Vidar and the blade of grass that was Geraint.

Her autonomy was held in the balance between these two men. The sensation of powerlessness clung to Enid’s shoulders despite the warmth of Geraint’s cloak. Staring up at the two, Enid wondered again if she’d miscalculated.

CHAPTERSIX

The giant was a behemoth. A monstrous creature of pale ice and cold blue. He was wearing what looked like a polo shirt with rock buttons just beneath the folded collar. His blue eyes glowed with menace, though his eyelids’ droopiness took away from his fiercesomeness. The frost giant looked more like he was waking from a nap than preparing for battle.

With each breath Vidar took, a mist of vapor sailed up to his nostrils, making Geraint think the guy was getting high off his own supply of breath. Geraint expected the wordsbroordudeordayuuuumto slip from his lips at any moment, like the characters out of the movieFridayorNext Fridayor the not-to-be-missedFriday After Next.

But no. Vidar wouldn’t be cast in any of those urban films. The chad-bro reeked of trust fund. All that was missing from his ensemble was a backward baseball cap and loafers without socks.

It was going to be a pleasure putting this icicle in his place. Vidar’s size didn’t bother Geraint. He had faced down gods before. He’d do it again for a worthy female such as Enid. Geraint took a step forward to get this battle underway, but something held him back.

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