Page 39 of Of Rime and Ruin
“When she’s mad at me, she makes this rope out of the water. And she hangs me by my fins.”
His eyes widen and laughter bubbles out. “No way! I can’t imagine you getting into enough trouble to deservethat.”
“I’m a royal handful, trust me.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “When I’m not freezing my ass off.”
“I bet the Frost King could take her. He’s strong.” He slouches to the floor and brings his tail to rest in his lap. His fingers find the severed part of his fin, and he strokes it absently. “He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His hands brush the pouch at his hip. “Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you.” He reaches into the pouch, revealing a roasted spinefish.
I glide toward the gate. “A snack?” I could kiss him, I’m so happy. “How’d you sneak this out?”
“It was His Majesty’s idea.” He hands it through the bars.
I hesitate, narrowing my eyes at the freezing, pink flesh in his hand. The king is… feeding me? It must be a trick. That male wouldn’t take care of anyone if his life depended on it.
“It’s not poisoned.” Perrin rolls his eyes. “Here.” He picks a bit of the meat, popping it into his mouth. “Yum.”
I take the offering, my stomach winning out over my caution. “What a decent siren he must be, to feed his royalguest.”
The meat is lukewarm. I close my eyes, groaning as the flavor hits my palate. Smoky. Tender. It melts on my tongue.
“I guess technically it was Aunt Deirdre’s idea. But the king agreed to it. Sort of. I’m sorry you’re locked in here, Nahla. I’d let you out myself if it didn’t mean I’d lose my head.”
“See.” I push the meat into my cheek to speak. “Nice kings don’t threaten their subjects with decapitation.”
“I never said he was nice. Just notthatbad.”
I roll my eyes. “Guess I’ll find my own way out of this cage, then.”
Back to Plan… what am I on now? Plan D or should it be E? Escape. Break all the rules.
I swallow the last of the fish—gone too soon—and punch the wall for a show. Pain flares in my knuckles. Perrin laughs at my pitiful attempt.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
I ignore him and dig my fingers into the ice. My fingertips turn numb at the touch, slipping on the wall. Not a fucking scratch. I try my shoulder next, backing away, then swimming at the wallwith all my force. Stars flash across my vision as I make impact, and I skid to the floor.
Fuck. The clawbeast made this look so easy. Where is he when I need him?
Perrin chuckles from his perch outside the door. “You’ve not been around ice much, have you?”
“Is it that obvious?” I grumble.
“You’ve gotta find its weak points, then apply heat. Use your breath, soften it, then eat it.”
“That works? Seems like a shit idea for a prison cell.”
He shrugs. “No really. Might not work as well with your stubby siren teeth, but, here, I’ll show you.”
He faces the wall, and with a snort, lengthens his front teeth into two thick tusks. He exhales on the wall before digging in with the teeth. The ice crunches.
He chews on it, then spits. “See? Easy.”
“Okay, tusk-man. Here I go.” I face the wall. It’s solid ice, impenetrable so far by nails or force. This is silly. Why should my teeth be any different? It’s not like I have a nice pair of tusks like Perrin.
With a deep suck of my gills, I filter oxygen, then exhale. The ice changes color—hardly enough to notice—a subtle shift from white to blue. I blink. Will this work?
