Page 56 of Fated to the Frost King

He must have realized that at the same time I did, because his warmth abruptly disappeared.

Nevara tilted her head toward the crowd, her spine going rigid. Then she gave a serene smile, all outward beneficence.

“The Heartstone has taken its claim. The Bride of Winter is sealed to both crown and court. Let no one question the Shard Mother’s will.”

Polite applause rippled through the hall, a restrained murmur that barely touched the domed ceiling. I didn’t hear it. Not really. Not over the deafening thunder of my own heartbeat.

My hands slipped away from the Heartstone, trembling in a way I hoped no one could see beneath my trailing sleeves. The applause eventually came to an end, and the courtiers filed from the room, followed by a very reluctant Nevara.

She stared in my direction through clouded eyes, her lips pursing. Her shoulders rose as she took in a breath, like she was preparing to say something, but the king didn’t give her the chance.

“We will speak later, Visionary,” his voice was a low, commanding growl.

Her gaze went distant, pale eyes shimmering.

“That we will. Until then.” She gave him a nod that was just this side of mocking, while offering me a look that might have been pity.

The crystal in her staff pulsed once before she used it to guide herself away, the echo of its tapping fading down the corridor like the final beat of a war drum. Lumen and the other wolves watched from the shadows of the hallway, tense and alert, but he shut the doors before they could cross the threshold.

Only then did he seal them shut with a wave of his hand.

Ice veined across the frame, crawling inward like it was desperate to lock the truth inside. The king once again had me in his iron grasp, his expression carved from glacier stone as he led me out through a narrow back corridor.

He pulled me along without a word, the weight of his silence pressing down like a boot to my spine. I could feel the rage in the grip that was so carefully controlled.

He knew it hadn’t worked. Of course he knew. And now… Now what would he do with that knowledge? He could have ousted me in front of the Court. Or at least Nevara, but he was waiting. For what?

He didn’t release me as he swept us through several narrow doorways through the servant’s passages and up hidden stairwells.

The wind screamed through the shuttered windows. Ice crackled along the walls, haunting us more closely than our own shadows. By the time we reached the familiar walls of the queen’s sitting room, I couldn’t feel my fingers.

The doors slammed shut behind us with another frigid gust of air.

He finally released me, fury radiating from him like heat from a forge.

His eyes burned brighter than the auroras they resembled, wild and cold and unrelenting, and his jaw clenched so hard I could swear I heard it crack.

“No reason to avoid the ceremony?” he bit out through ragged breaths.

I swallowed. “I told you it was too soon.”

A lie. A weak one.

His eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fist. His left one again, where he wore his wedding band.

“Try again,” he gritted out.

Batty flew over to me with anxious little chitters, and I hurriedly put her in my sleeve before Draven could direct his anger at her. He tracked the motion, jaw clenched, while he waited for my response.

“Your mana is more powerful than mine, so it probably just eclipsed it.”

I wasn’t sure why I was still bothering when we both already knew. Even the skathryn gave a small, disappointed trill from my sleeve.

Draven looked down at his fist, honing in on the ring that was born of our combined blood like it had personally wronged him. Frost spread outward from the band, creeping up his arm.

He snapped his gaze back up to mine.

“The truth.” His voice dropped, low and lethal. “What is wrong with your mana?”

---