Page 26 of Of Rime and Ruin
If she thinks she can fuck with my kingdom from the inside out, she’s sorely mistaken. I am the goddessdamn King of Frost, and I won’t be made a fool of. I grip the post of my bed, and the wood cracks. Blue scales reach my elbow.
Power crackles and streams from my hands, coating the walls in a thick sheet of ice. Icicles drip from the ceiling, lengthening as my anger builds.
This siren will be the bane of my self-control.
Chapter twelve
Nahla
Mykneeshitthethrone room floor. I wince as the pain registers, sharp in each knee, then shooting up my thighs.This shit again?With trembling hands, I steel myself for what’s next and resolve to make him pay for this.
The king sits on that fur-lined throne, nestled in warmth, while ice-cold water evaporates from my body. My hair hangs in wet clumps, dripping onto the darkwood slats. Torches flank his throne, casting their warmth over my skin.
Fire. Gods, how I’ve missed this heat.
Is it pathetic to be glad for this moment of respite? This dark abysmal room, full of warm, dry air. The thin cotton shift his gentle housekeeper, Deirdre, dressed me in. Small wins, but I claim them. Revel in them.
These things, at least, he can’t take away from me.
“You can’t treat me like this. I’m a p—”
“Prisoner?” he says with a glare. His voice is smug and menacing, the kind that cuts straight to my bones. Fear traces my spinal cord, and I lose hold of all thought.
In my hesitation, his magic finds me. Ice encircles my wrists and ankles, securing me to his floor like a godsdamn criminal. For what? Going for a joy swim with glosswhales?Grow a heart, asshole.
I thrash against his restraint, and the ice cuts into my skin. With a hiss of pain, I raise my head to meet his glare. His eyes are a near-silver shade of blue, like morning snow. His white hair is slicked into a knot at the nape of his neck, one loose hair falling across his forehead. I wonder if he styles it himself, or if his morning whore does it for him.Chumwad.
How can I make him pay for what he’s doing to me? How do I make the pretty king squirm? My defiance pissed him off to no end last time. Maybe if I annoy him enough, he will set me free.
Plan D: become annoying as fuck.
Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve annoyed Winona since I first fluttered my gills.
The king rises from his seat, flipping the train of his long-ass cloak. All royals are the same, adorning themselves with the most pretentious garments available. Like Winona and her imported silks. His cloak is pieced together with the hides of many animals, the rich white and silver furs oiled and groomed.
Does he brush it himself or is that a special position for some poor, hired soul?
He sways on his feet—just a fraction—and I narrow my eyes. Darkness hollows his cheeks, like he hasn’t been sleeping. There’s an edge of hysteria in his gaze.
I smile. He’s easy pickings.
“It’s come to my attention that you require boundaries.” His voice rumbles, impossibly deep.
“No, thank you,” I quip. “But I appreciate the kind gesture.”
The king crosses his arms, pressing them tight to his chest. A thick vein protrudes from his snow-white skin, wrapping around his arm. Those forearms alone could do serious damage to a weaker girl’s heart.
Not me—I’m on a mission, and I won’t be thwarted by male intimidation.
“Here in the Frost Kingdom, we live by several rules. I expect you to follow them.”
To think I could be out of the Rime by now, speeding toward warmer waters. I was a fool for going north. I should have gone to Estuary and stuffed myself with wine and fruitmead. My mouth waters at the thought.
“Rule number one,” he says. “You will never leave the Rime.”
I wait for the punchline to land. He can’t be serious. His jaw twitches, then hardens. This male doesn’t have an unserious bone in his body.
Who does this asshole think he is? “Try to stop me.”
