Page 5 of Frost Like Night
The Ventrallan king rose. The daughter who had been hiding behind him instantly latched onto his leg, and the boy in his arms, not more than a year old, stared with wide, calm eyes from behind a small green mask.
Phil moved beside Mather, and he felt the rest of the Thaw gather around. All the time they had spent in their clandestine trainings in Jannuari had let him learn each ofthem by heart, and he didn’t need to look to know Trace’s fingers twitched over his empty knife sheaths; Eli squared his jaw in a mimic of the glowers around him; Kiefer hesitated near the back, watching, cautiously ready to help; and Hollis and Feige hovered, quiet, on the edge of the group.
It was Dendera, Conall, and Nessa whom Mather had to check on. Dendera had her arms around Nessa, freeing Conall to stand alert, his face gray and hard. His brother had died as unexpectedly as Alysson.
Mather turned away from him. He wouldn’t let his own grief rise any higher. Hopefully Conall could keep himself under control too.
“Mother,” Jesse said, his surprise palpable even from behind his mask. “Who are—”
“Do we have a deal?” Brigitte asked Mather.
Mather narrowed his eyes. “You’re saving us?” He had little to no experience with children, but even he could tell that getting them out of the palace would be nearly impossible.
Someone in his group stepped forward. Mather expected it to be Dendera—she, of all of them, was the most capable with children, but when Mather turned, he blinked in surprise.
Nessa faced Brigitte. “Of course we have a deal.”
Mather had been on the verge of saying the same thing. Impossible or no, they wouldn’t leave children here, defenseless. What surprised Mather was the ease with which Nessamoved forward and knelt in front of the oldest girl.
“Hi there,” she said. “I’m Nessa. And that’s my brother, Conall.”
Conall gaped when his sister pointed up at him, but he managed a small bow at the princess.
“Melania,” the girl told Nessa, rolling herlon an awkward tongue.
The smile Nessa gave her was impossibly soft for someone whose eyes still looked so haunted. “Well, Melania, how would you like to go on an adventure?”
Melania looked up at her grandmother. Brigitte’s sternness melted as she smiled, and Melania placed her small fingers in Nessa’s outstretched hand.
Things happened quickly after that. Brigitte pulled blankets and other meager supplies out of her armoires; Dendera and, more surprising still, Hollis eased forward to coax the other two children into coming on the same “adventure.”
The room began to hum with movement, but the Ventrallan king stayed motionless before his chair. He didn’t hold his son anymore—the boy now clung to Hollis—but instead stared at the floor with jaw-clenched ferocity.
“I have to go after her,” the king said suddenly, echoing Mather’s own looping thoughts.
Mather picked a dagger from the supplies, unsure of how to respond. No one else said a word. “Your wife sided with Angra,” he tried. “Freeing her—”
“I don’t give a damn about Raelyn,” the king snapped, and something in his words made Brigitte, across the room, stop folding a blanket.
“No. I will not let you get yourself killed for—”
“For whom?” The king whirled on his mother. “You’ve called her many things over the years. Useless, harmful—a whore. But it would seemRaelynis the one who most strongly embodies those attributes. So do not tell me not to go after Ceridwen.”
By the time he finished, the room was silent. Mather felt that name dredge up memories of Meira’s parting words. She had told him to save Ceridwen. Why would the Ventrallan king care about the Summerian princess too?
But the look on the king’s face told Mather exactly why he cared.
Brigitte’s lips puckered. She didn’t utter another word before her son removed his dark green mask and pointed it at her.
“I’m not leaving until I break this mask and save Ceridwen.”
Mather frowned. “Break your mask?”
The king didn’t miss a beat, as though he had repeated this explanation to himself many times. “To break one’s mask in the presence of someone you reject is an act of permanent separation. To say that you are finished with them in your life, so much so that you do not worry about them seeing your true face. You’ll never see them again, so yoursecrets are nothing in their hands.”
Mather nodded. It mattered little what the king wanted to do, honestly—if Jesse intended to confront his wife and save Ceridwen, Mather would follow, especially if it meant he could complete one of the tasks Meira had entrusted to him.
“Everyone else should escape while they can,” Mather said, aiming the order at his group. “I’ll accompany the king out of the palace. There’s something I need to do as well.”
