Page 37 of Of Rime and Ruin
“Murderer?” I rumble. I can hear him in my tone, the rough growl of the clawbeast.
“There you are, Beast,” he says. He pushes off the desk and leans on the arms of my chair. His breath spills over my space and his mouth contorts into a snarl. “Now, Your Majesty, pull yourself together!”
I gnash my teeth. The ice twists in my stomach. Darkness spreads from my fingertips, crawling up my arms. “How?” I gasp. “How do I control it?”
“Wrestle it. You want to be a king? Start by mastering yourself,” he hisses.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Count to ten.
“Not good enough!” he bellows.
Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. The tingling sensation retreats from my arms, the cascade of scales creeping away.
“Wrestle, Sire! Master it!”
In. Out. I unfurl my fists. My hands are warm again, the chill nearly gone from my fingers.
I feel the ghost of his presence step away from me, and I open my eyes.
“Something like that,” Lucas says. His breath leaves my face, and his footsteps pad toward the fire. “Let’s try getting back into a solid routine. You’ve been unpredictable. Lazy. Avoiding your kingly duties to attend this pity party of one. Keeping yourself caged up is one answer, but I fear for the long-term effects on the state of your kingdom.”
“What,” I spit through gritted teeth, “do you suggest?”
“You let yourself off the hook too easily, Sire. You shy away from difficult matters when you should embrace them. Adversity strengthens you.” His voice comes from far away, near the fire. He pokes at the stones in the hearth, red hot.
“Brisk walk every low-tide. Simple breakfast. Attend to the ledger. Visit the townsfolk. Take requests. Make them happen. Maintain control of your kingdom—and you’ll maintain control of yourself, naturally.”
“I am the king,” I growl. “I’m always in control of my kingdom.” Breathe. Breathe.
“Certainly.” He turns from the fire.Is that a smirk?“But you could bebetter, Sire. And that’s where I come in.” He twirls the iron poker in his hand, inspecting the glowing tip. “I have a theory. For how to fix you. I need more time to complete my research, but if you’re… willing… to cooperate, I’m certain we can achieve great things together.”
“Research,” I echo. “How long do you need?”
“A couple weeks, Sire. Re-establish your routine. Then we can get started.”
I loosen my jaw. Force my tongue to drop from the roof of my mouth. With a cautious hand, I reach for my neck, massaging the tension away.
Lucas has always served my family well. He treated my mother’s ailments, and he’s known me since I was a guppy. If anyone can cure me, it’s him.
I trust my family’s secret with no other healer but him.
“Deal,” I say, lifting from the chair. I point at his beloved frostcat on the mantel. “But I’d better not end up like him.”
Lucas’s grin spreads slowly. “You have my word.”
Chapter seventeen
Nahla
FucktheFrostKing.Fuck his rules. I will break each one—it’s what I do best, after all.
Rule one: Do not leave the Rime.I will leave this wretched place if it kills me.
Rule two: Do not explore his castle.I will infiltrate every room.
Rule three: Do not engage the clawbeast.I will make him my bitch.
As I sit in my cell, brushing the frost from my scales for the thousandth time this morning, my resolve hardens. I’m no better off in this cell than I would be as some land-dweller’s statue queen. Either way, I’m collecting dust.
