Page 59 of Frost Like Night
Find him,I will my magic. I don’t realize until I think those words how desperately I need it to work. Because if I can’t sense Sir here . . . Angra might have already killed him.
A sharp jolt of connection makes me straighten.
“What?” Mather’s hands go to my arm.
My eyes fly open.
“Sir,” I pant, relief cooling my limbs. I look at Mather. “I know where he is.”
I take off, led purely by the need in my heart. My magic doesn’t sense any Decay in Sir—his strength of will must be enough to resist, for now at least.
Of course it is. Of course he’d hold out against Angra.
We slip into the palace through the servants’ entrance, keeping our heads bowed, our features as obscured by scarves as possible. Luckily, every servant we pass keeps their shoulders hunched and faces to the ground as they rush to complete their tasks. I lead the Thaw through halls that once dripped with vibrant pink flowers and braids of silk—now the walls are bare, darkness serving almost asthe only decoration. And, more than that, there’s a heaviness to these halls, one that feels so reminiscent of Angra’s palace in Abril that my heart can’t stop galloping.Pain—that’s what my body remembers most about Angra’s home. Excruciating, shattering pain.
I stop before each corner, glancing down it to make sure Angra isn’t lying in wait. I can’t feel him anywhere around, which means he either isn’t here—unlikely—or he’s shielding himself as much as I am from him. He could be one wall away, and I wouldn’t know.
Finally, I duck up one last staircase and come to a balcony overlooking the celebration hall. Four stories of arching sandstone balconies spiral around, the ceiling nothing but a great sweep of the night sky. Fire pits line the room, all burning low and casting just enough light to highlight the people below.
The gathering is a stark contrast to the last celebration I saw here. There is no music, no color—people stand in tight groups, talking in quiet, low voices, every so often casting wary glances at a balcony directly across from me.
We’re on one of the second-floor balconies, the walkway empty of any other souls. Still we press to the wall, slinking through the shadows. My magic hums, compelling me forward—Sir should be here.
My breath hitches.Trap,I think.It’s a trap. Angra knew we’d come.
But then I turn.
Sir crouches behind the railing, his body squished against a pillar. His attention is pinned on the balcony, centered across from him. No doubt Angra will appear there, and Ceridwen’s planned assassination attempt will occur.
At the sight of Sir, images break apart in my mind, thoughts of him dead at Angra’s hands, his body broken and bleeding on a battlefield. But he’s all right—he’s alive.
I hadn’t realized how terrified I’d been until now.
The Thaw stops, hidden behind one of the larger pillars. I slide forward one step.
“Sir,” I whisper.
He jolts and flies to his feet, utter shock scrawled across his usually stoic face, before he falls back to hide behind the pillar next to him.
His attention shifts to a movement at my left.
Mather steps away from the shadows and everything about Sir’s demeanor softens. Where he had looked at me with shock, Sir looks at Mather as if he’s staring at the most precious thing in the world.
Sir’s arms drop limp. “You’re all right,” he mouths.
Mather hesitates, shrugs. But Sir doesn’t give him a chance to respond—he stumbles into the space behind our pillar, and everything I ever thought I knew about Sir is proved wrong.
He hooks his arms around Mather’s neck and hauls him forward, head bowing to tuck against his son.
Mather goes stiff.
Sir is hugging him—desperately, pleadingly.
Mather’s eyes close and he dissolves, his fingers digging into Sir’s back. A sob shakes through Mather’s body, sorrow unleashed from his mother’s recent death, from his tortured relationship with his parents, from the way I know he’s always wanted this as much as I have. And while I am gloriously happy for him, a sharp flutter takes my breath away.
I’ve resigned myself to my relationship with Sir. I am his queen; that’s all I’ll ever be.
I clear my throat. “Where is Ceridwen?” I whisper.
