Page 51 of Fated to the Frost King

“And my…other things?” I rasped.

“Seem to have gone missing shortly after your arrival.” Sympathy flooded his gaze, edged with something close enough to pity to make my blood run cold.

Batty trilled in concern, and I pulled her onto my shoulder, the opposite of the one the healer would need to examine.Turning back to him, I nodded mutely, and he studied me for another moment before continuing his ministrations.

Warmth spread from his hands, infusing the injuries and encouraging them to heal. A cooler wave followed, like dipping into a river on a warm summer day. It was usually comforting. Soothing.

But all I could think about was how few people would have had access to the queen’s clothing in the infirmary. Healer’s assistants were from Winter. They could be reporting to anyone in the court, so that was a horrifying thought.

Then there was Soren, who had a way of talking himself into every space, and Nevara who, shards, had probably Seen it by now anyway. Mirelda was a possibility, but why would she take the sheath before the rest of the clothes?

In the back of my mind, I saw aurora eyes staring down at me from underneath moonlit hair.

My breath seized in my lungs. But that couldn’t be true. If Draven had taken the dagger, I would know by now.

I would bedeadby now.

Amias cleared his throat gently, like he knew I was lost in my own head.

“Your injuries have healed. Thank you for your patience over the past two days. I know no one loves an extended infirmary visit, but head wounds can be cunning. It’s always better to heal them slowly.” He said the words evenly, methodically.

It helped me to pace my breathing and slow my heartbeat, which I suspected was his intention. I nodded, and he went on.

“The bruising on your shoulder is gone as well, so you’re free to leave, but I would encourage you to return to your quarters to rest.”

He said that last part just as Mirelda strode in. Shards.

There went any hope of going to the gardens to subtly search for my lost dagger. I thanked the healer and changed into theclothes Mirelda had brought before hurrying the hells out of the infirmary. Whether I liked Healer Amias or not, I still didn’t like the smell, the feel, or the look of that room.

My loyal guardian was waiting to escort me. Lumen had a bandage wrapped around one of his paws but appeared otherwise recovered, which was a relief.

On the way back to my chambers, I couldn’t help but examine my maid, looking for signs she had discovered the sheath.

She did seem more tense than usual, but her dark eyes were neither angry nor accusatory. Still, I was cautious all the way up to my suites, cradling Batty against me like I could shield her from whatever was coming.

A storm howled outside, coating the windows in frost and sweeping gusts of wind all the way through the palace. Wherever Draven was, he was furious.

And Mirelda was tense.

And my sheath was missing.

The morning brought neither answers nor relief.

Just lingering nightmares and a maid who was uncharacteristically silent while she ushered me through our familiar song and dance of breakfast, bath, and dressing for the day. She didn’t even comment on the fact that I had finally slept in the bed.

I had been too exhausted to face another night in the chair, and the king had given me no reason at this point to suspect he might come uninvited to my bed. It was something Mirelda normally would have made at least one sarcastic remark about, but there was nothing.

“What am I to be doing today?” I asked for at least the third time, my tone just this side of brittle.

She pursed her lips, letting out a slow breath.

“His Majesty didn’t say. He only told me how to dress you, and where to escort you.” Her voice was strained, but for once, I didn’t get the feeling the emotion was directed at me.

Rather that it was…on my behalf.

Would he dress me so well for my execution?

Just in case, I ordered Batty to stay behind, ignoring her high pitched protest.

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