Page 97 of Frost Like Night
“My queen,” he says. His eyes scramble over Sir, Mather, and he drops the cup, coming onto his knees as he grips the bars in two tight fists. “Where are the others? Did you bring an army? Tell me you brought more than—”
“An army would have been impractical, under the circumstances,” Sir answers.
Greer’s laugh is almost a sob. “You’ve come to reclaim Winter.”
“In a way.”
He bends toward Sir. “I’ve heard footsteps for hours, marching above. Theron has soldiers in the ballroom with him.” Greer’s eyes turn to me. “He’s waiting for you.”
I clamp my jaw and glance up at the ceiling.
“Dozens of men,” Greer says, as if reading the calculations on my face. “My queen, you need more help.”
“Or a diversion.” I look at Mather.
He darkens, the dancing light of the one sconce in this hall casting him even more concerned. “We’re not letting you go in alone.”
“Alone?” Sir rises, but by the time he’s up, he realizes what I mean. “You want us to call the soldiers out of the ballroom.”
I nod. “I can handle Theron. I can even purge the Decay from the Winterians in Jannuari like I did with Greer—you can have other fighters to help you—”
But Sir cuts his hand through the air. “No. No civilian causalities. Mather and I can keep the soldiers occupied forlong enough on our own.”
Mather eyes his father. “Two against dozens?” He smiles slightly and shrugs. “We’ve had worse odds.”
Greer pulls himself up the bars. “Threeagainst dozens.” He pauses, leaning all his weight on the iron, and an almost imperceptible wince rocks his features as he meets my eyes again. “Finn. My queen, I’m sorry. Angra—”
“No,” I say. I need to choose strength right now.
Sir is silent for a moment, no doubt pushing away his own memories of Finn. After a pause, he notes the injuries on Greer’s body and looks at me. I move to work.
His injuries are easy to heal, though they churn my stomach as I pour magic into him. Angra has been torturing him with more than the Decay—far more. But I say nothing about it, and when I finish moments later, Greer grunts in relief and stretches.
“I haven’t felt this good in years,” he mumbles as Sir works to pick the lock on his cell.
I step down the hall before the door is even fully open. Angra tortured him. Truly, unrepentantly tortured him, and still the Decay made him mumble in devotion to Angra.
So what has Angra done to Theron? What state will I find him in? And, worse still, what state is the rest of my kingdom in? Are the Winterians in Jannuari all walking around with just as much mad passion for Angra as Greer showed?
I ball my hands into fists. It doesn’t matter. Soon they’llbe free. Sooneveryonewill be free.
Mather puts his hand around one of my fists. “Don’t go in until the room is clear.”
“I know.”
“We’ll try to stay near the palace so you can find us when you’re done. You can sense us with your magic. Or should we—”
“Mather.” I turn to him just as we reach the staircase that will take us up to the first floor. “This isourkingdom. We can survive this.”
He puts his other hand on my cheek, his thumb glancing back and forth over my temple. “That’s not the part that worries me.”
I kiss him, quick and hard. “I’ll be all right.”
He presses me even tighter against him. “Yes, you will,” he tells me.
I pull back, unable to meet his eyes, so I look at Sir. “After you, General.”
Sir pauses for a moment, lips parted as if he wants to say something. But he only nods and pushes ahead of me to lead Mather and Greer up the staircase. I trail behind them, keeping time with their quiet footsteps, all the while letting half of my focus float to the ballroom. Theron is still there, unmoved, waiting for me. I recheck the barrier over Jannuari—Angra can’t come.
