Page 229 of Frost and Death
Nikolaj feigns fear at Jerrick’s statement. “I will have my vengeance,” Nikolaj vows, shoving his dagger into my injured side.
I yelp.
I do not know if the audible gasp is my own because, miserably, I am still reaching and pleading for my magic, if only to numb the pain of my own injuries. It could take away the pinching between my ribs, the tearing in my gut, and the shattering of my heart.
Jerrick moves, too far from stopping Nikolaj as he drags the dagger to my chest, slicing downward and cutting my shirt open.
A small steady stream of blood trickles down my body, and I hiss, pinching my eyes shut as I fight against the blade, biting my lip through the pain.
A chilling kiss blossoms in my core.
My magic.
I shudder in relief as the familiar kernel of power unfurls, seeking to console me.
Frost traces its way along my arms, forming swirls and flurries of snow and ice and numbing me as Niko’s shining blade punctures my chest.
The cold steel in my body is unfamiliar, stinging more and more as Nikolaj spitefully laughs, gradually and torturouslysending the blade deeper and deeper, seeking to enjoy and prolong my demise.
“NO!” Jerrick bellows, sprinting toward me.
I barely grasp anything beyond the blade and my magic manifesting in my hands.
I hiss through the searing sensation, inhaling once, and realize I am not going to make it out of this.
Jerrick and I are still married, which makes him King of Axidoria.
At least my people will have Jerrick and Jonas.
And maybe my death will end my cursed winter. Maybe finding the tools to break Jerrick’s curse will allow him the chance to end the one I have placed on my own people. If anyone could figure it out, it would be my husband.
I wish I had more time to explain myself to him.
I wish I didn’t lie to him.
I wish I could tell Jerrick how much I love him.
With what could be my last words, I persevere, finally and fully accepting myself. Everything I’ve worked toward fixing, toward healing, toward saving, will be righted once I am gone. And that is enough.
Iam enough.
If I am going to die, so will Nikolaj.
I am doing this for me, for my kingdom, and for my family waiting to embrace and love me on the other side.
Nikolaj’s gaze meets mine.
I grit out, “The difference between us, Nikolaj, is, when I die, Runa willwantto see me. Runa will still love me.Notyou.Neveryou.”
My strength weakens as I reach to grab the hilt of the dagger, my fingertips brushing along Nikolaj’s skin.
Warm liquid trickles down the center of my chest, and the pressure tugging my scalp slackens as a startled hiss is directed in my ear.
The momentary freedom is nothing as I am released, my hands catching myself from forcing the dagger farther into my body.
On my hands and knees, I barely have the strength to gaze up and catch the frost transforming to ice over Nikolaj.
His right hand grows with frost, streaming up his arm and down his body in rapid succession.
