Page 7 of Frost Like Night
Moments later, the door to the new passage shut with a soft thud, leaving Mather alone with Jesse, Phil, and Brigitte.
Brigitte arranged herself on a chair, wrinkled mouth pursed. Jesse stepped up to her as Mather moved back to the first passage. He waved Phil through and hesitated.
“Thank you,” Jesse said to his mother.
Brigitte shrugged. “Go. Raelyn will soon notice I had you moved to my chambers.”
The king wrapped his fingers around his mother’s shoulder with a delicate squeeze. Finally she looked up at him, the stoniness in her eyes dissipating in a tear-glazed rush.
“Go,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine.”
Mather’s throat swelled, and he looked away, eyes stinging.
Jesse pushed himself past Mather, into the passage.
Brigitte adjusted her gown and leveled her eyes at the door Raelyn would no doubt barrel through at any moment with a retaliation just as harsh as the one she had dealt the Summerian king. Mather had seen only the end of that fight, the Summerian king’s neck snapping, but that had been enough to confirm that Raelyn showed no mercy.
Mather ducked into the stairwell and shut the door behind him. The bolt clicked.
There was no going back now. For anyone.
3
Ceridwen
THE INSIDE OFSimon’s brothel wagon was musky with sweat and plumeria incense, the air hazy with smoke that hadn’t been ventilated properly, the floor covered by silk pillows and satin quilts. Ceridwen had never been inside one of her brother’s wagons, despite his endless prodding for her to “be a true Summerian” and join his exploits. As she drew her knees to her chin now, all she could hear were the teasing reprimands she had hated for so long.
And the grating pop of his neck when Raelyn had snapped it.
The wagon jostled, oxen tugging it through Rintiero’s streets, and Ceridwen let her body sway with it, too exhausted to fight its movements.
“Cerie.” Lekan crouched before her, wincing until he straightened his leg and dropped to the floor of the wagon. A gash cut across his knee, another stretched down hischeek, and she knew the rest of his body was just as covered in wounds. “Cerie—”
But his voice broke. What could he say? What couldshesay?
Ceridwen closed her eyes. In her mind, Simon’s face flared purple from Raelyn’s choking magic.
“Stop . . . Raelyn . . . leave her alone!”
Simon had pleaded for her life. Even though, minutes before, Ceridwen had barged into the square intent on murdering him herself.
And before she had been able to utter more than a feeble croak of protest, his head had jolted to the side, cracking his life away with it.
Ceridwen opened her eyes.
Lekan tore a section of blanket and worked at wiping the blood off her arms.
“Leave it,” she bit through clenched teeth.
He didn’t listen. “He was your brother. You loved him,” he whispered quietly.
Ceridwen’s muscles turned to stone. “I hated him.”
Lekan’s fingers tightened around the ragged strip of satin and he scrubbed harder at her shoulder. He stayed silent, eyes on his work, like he was just a normal slave and she a normal princess and the stains on her body weren’t her brother’s blood.
Ceridwen stared at the splatters. Raelyn’s joy had been demented as she had ordered Simon’s head to be severed.And as a soldier had begun sawing at her brother’s neck, Ceridwen hadn’t been able to back away from the blood that had spurted under the pressure of the knife.
Simon was dead. His body, decapitated before her.
