Page 1 of Frost Like Night
1
Meira
THIS IS WRONG.
I’m still hidden in the doorway of the Donati Palace’s dungeon and already I can feel the change in Ventralli, like the darkness of a storm moving in. But instead of staying to fight with my handful of Winterians, I left them and followed the man in front of me.
And I have no idea who he really is.
Any guards who might have been posted outside the dungeon are gone, drawn into the chaos of Raelyn’s takeover of the kingdom. Rooms open to our right and left, far enough away that the people within don’t notice us, close enough for me to catch glimpses inside. Soldiers corral courtiers into groups against the gilded walls, servants weep—but even more terrifying are the bystanders who do nothing at all. The ones who watch the soldiers swing threats like blades, declaring King Jesse deposed and his wife, Raelyn,the ruler of Ventralli because she has a stronger power now, one everyone can use—power given to her by King Angra of Spring.
“He’s alive?”
“His magic is stronger than that of the Royal Conduits?”
“Is that how he survived?”
These questions rise above the soldiers’ threats, mixing with the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“Angra helped the Ventrallan queen depose its king. He”—my breath hitches—“already has his influence in Cordell. He seized Autumn and Winter and had the Summer kingmurdered, and yet somehow, this makes people feel wonder, not fear.”
The man I’ve been following—Rares, if that’s even his name—looks at me.
“Angra has probably been planning this conquest for the three months he’s been gone, so his retribution isn’t as swift as it would seem,” he says. “And you more than anyone know how easy it is for people to choose wonder over fear.”
“I, more than anyone?” I choke. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Do you truly want to have this discussion now?” The scar that runs along the right side of Rares’s face, from his temple to his chin, creases with his squint. “I’d planned on at least getting us past any immediate threat of death first. . . .”
Swords clash and a soldier shouts from up the hall. Rares dives around the corner without waiting for my response, leaving me to scramble after him.
I shouldn’t be trailing some mysterious Paislian—I should be helping Mather release the Winterians in the dungeons. Or planning a way to free my kingdom from the Cordellan coup. Or saving Ceridwen from Raelyn. Or finding a way to extract Theron from the grip of Angra’s Decay.
I falter, tripping over my many worries. While I always suspected Angra’s death was a ruse, I never, not in any of my most delirious fears, thought he could be strong enough to give magic to non-conduit-wielders.
But his power is tainted by the Decay, which was created when there were no rules binding magic to only royal bloodlines.
As Rares and I duck from hall to hall, I see the fruits of Angra’s magic firsthand. The Ventralli of light and color that existed when we first arrived is gone, replaced by one that resembles the dark streets of Spring. Soldiers march with faces pinched tight by anger, their movements sharp. Courtiers huddle in trembling masses, fearful, with wide eyes and an eagerness to please their conquerors.
No one fights it. No one shouts retaliation or struggles against the soldiers.
This is Angra’s doing. Though it looks as though he’s only given his higher-ranking subordinates the ability tocontrol magic, as Raelyn did when she killed the Summerian king. The people who crowd the halls simply appear fogged, influenced by something beyond themselves, as if they all got drunk on the same bad wine.
This is what Angra is creating, a world of infinite power, where everyone is possessed by a magic that makes them pliable, overcome by their deepest, darkest emotions.
How do I stop him? How do I save—
It claws at me, the question I asked my conduit magic, and I’m sucked back to that moment, when I was running through the streets of Rintiero with Lekan and Conall. My biggest worries then were trying to keep Ceridwen from murdering her brother, and figuring out how to form an alliance with Ventralli, and finding the Order of the Lustrate and their keys in order to keep Cordell from accessing the magic chasm.
Then I asked that question—how do I save everyone?—and the answer blistered itself onto my soul.
By sacrificing a Royal Conduit and returning it to the source of the magic.
But I am Winter’s conduit. All of me. Thanks to my mother.
Rares yanks me behind a potted plant moments before a contingent of men jogs out of a room just ahead.
“Not now,” he whispers. He fishes for something in his shirt and withdraws a key on a chain, the one he showed me in the dungeon—the final key to the magic chasm in theTadil Mine. “You found me. You found the Order of the Lustrate—andyes, we will help you defeat Angra and stop all this. But first, let’s just get out of here alive.”
