Page 77 of Of Rime and Ruin
“Pardon?”
“King’s orders, as of this morning. You’re not to leave your room.”
His words scramble like bumblefish in my brain. Not to leave…? Then it clicks.
“I’m a prisoner again, aren’t I?”
The youngling nods solemnly.
“Then why is my door unlocked?” I press.
He blushes, then checks the keys at his hip. “Right.”
“Perrin,” I say, keeping my tone as even as I can manage. “I’d like a word with the king.”
Perrin makes a show of unhooking his keys and fitting one into the lock. He gives me a gentle push into the room. “Sorry, Princess, I’m under strict orders.” As the door clicks shut, I hear him mutter once more, “Sorry, Nahla.”
I lean against the door with a heavy thud and survey my new prison. Godsdammit. This shit again? What did I say to him last night to piss him off so badly? Was it the stupid dick joke?
The guest suite is better than an ice block, that’s for sure. I’ve got a dwindling fire, a stack of books, a washroom, a warm bed, and a view of the sun. Technically, he fulfilled all my initial requests.
Howchivalrous.
How fucking arrogant.
I thought we had amomentlast night. I shared my secrets and he…
Well, he let me overshare, that’s what, and he didn’t return the favor. Just some heavy breathing and a lot of staring at my breasts. Fuck, I should’ve seen it coming.
I pace the floor, determined to track a trench in it. There’s no telling how long I’ll be here. And I won’t waste the rest of my life following that Frosted Fiasco’s silly rules.
As I wait for Deirdre to arrive, I form my escape plan.
The housekeeper dresses me, feeds me, and leaves me with a full tea pot and a stoked fire, muttering apologies all the while. I assure her it’s no problem, better than the ice dungeon, and this seems to soothe her a bit.
As soon as she leaves, I set to work.
The sheets come off the bed easily. I roll them and tie them together with double knots, then yank the curtains next. Soon enough, I’ve fashioned a rope long enough to lower me from the window.
After anchoring the rope to the heavy bed, I check the window. The latch is jammed. I cram my fingers trying to move the mechanism and give up when I rip a fingernail.Shit.
I need a club, or something heavy enough to break through. The iron fire poker catches my eye. That’ll work. If all goes well, I won’t be staying here much longer. I heft it and swing at the glass. It shatters with a delightful tinkle, spraying shards into the snow-drenched alley below.
My heart pounds. Perrin certainly heard that. Pausing, I strain my ears for any sense of his movement. But nothing comes.
Quickly, I slip my feet into the snowleathers Deirdre set out for me. Then I stuff the rope out the window and, avoiding broken glass, crawl out the jagged hole after it. My wool skirts snag on the glass, and I yank them free with a rip of the cloth. I clench the rope with my legs, and inch my way past a window, praying to the gods the room is empty. My heart beats loud enough in my ears, I won’t be able to hear them if they shout.
Finally, I land in a snowbank next to the first-floor window, feet sinking deep. A shadow moves inside, and I duck, face-planting into the snow.
The cold flares, spreading through my body, and I hiss. How do these Frost fuckerslivelike this? Their climate is terrible. Give me sunshine and thunderstorms any day. A warm ocean breeze rattling through the palmwoods or the call of squawkbirds in the air. Will I ever hear home again?
Not if I stand still.
Crouching beneath the windowsill, I wade through the snow. A few pieces of glass have cut my skin, and I curse my stupidity. I’m a shit escape artist. My blood leaves speckles in the snow, right next to my obvious footprints.
No time to cover my tracks. The alley skirts the side of the castle. With a quick glance, I try to check the position of the sun, but the sky is cloudy, and I can’t determine east from west.
I’ll have to circle the building and sneak in the back gate. Then to the basement. Find that hole. Uncover its secrets…
