Page 224 of Frost and Death
“Yes,” I grit out, my heart aching at the memory of hurt in his eyes.
Cordelia and Ophelia’s eyebrows lift at my declaration, a silent exchange forming between the two of them.
Dorit’s brown irises remain fixed on me. But when her eyes close, she exhales before she, too, offers me her own smirk.
“Told you,” Dorit jests.
The shift of her demeanor catches me off guard, and I startle.
She turns to open the door, eying me once more. “Just because I told you so doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you that easy for stringing us all along. Now, get out of here and put an end to the fighting. If you do that, Imightbe willing to hear an explanation later.”
Tears well in my eyes.
I rush to Cordelia and Ophelia to embrace them and then join Dorit at the threshold. She arches back, trying to avoid my arms wrapping around her, but I still latch onto her for dear life for an instant before pulling away.
“I never thought family could be beyond my own blood, but it is. And it is with each of you, Jonas, and Jerrick. I love you all so much,” I whisper to them.
I take a long breath and wipe the tears from my eyes. I break into a run down the hallway, with no location in mind, only wanting to stop the people I love from getting hurt.
Screams, yelling, and the clatter of swords echo down the staircase. Every instinct has me wanting to turn away and return to the safety of Jerrick’s room.
But I trust I can stop this.
I can prevent bloodshed and two people I dearly care about from killing each other.
My boots smack against the stone but are quiet compared to the noises coming from other levels of my home.
When I reach the lowest floor, some guests are fighting, while others and staff members run in different directions, looking for safety or shelter.
My thoughts drift beyond those in the castle, to those in the villages, to Frida.
I pray to the Makers that they will all be safe.
I stand on my tiptoes, trying to find a familiar face, a glimmer catching my attention.
My eyes widen as Bernie and King Beauvais armed with swords, protect a group of guests. Bernie’s daughters hold them together in line, threatening anyone looking to attack them.
Princess Vivienne holds a small dagger, and Princess Marian is armed with a bow and pack of arrows on her back.
Deities, I should have a weapon on me.
I look at my hands briefly, remembering I am a weapon.
I peer up, trying to get one of their attentions. “Bernie!” I shout into the chaos.
His head whips up and in my direction. “Tove!”
An armored man enters the hall with a bloodied sword, hurrying toward a nobleman fighting a bannerman.
Women scream as Bernie pivots for the swordsman, not moving fast enough.
My heart lurches as the enemy lifts his sword to strike. Panic grips me in place just as King Beauvais catches the man off guard, lunging in front of Bernie, striking the man down in one swift blow.
I gape, stunned, as does Bernie.
A weird silent exchange streams between the two of them while the princesses hurry the guests down the cleared path.
When the crowds clear, I rush to them, my breath struggling to keep up.
