Frost Bound (Entangled with Trickery #1)

Chapter One Dahlia

Being poor really was the worst.

Dahlia lifted her chin higher as an aria spilled from her lips, all the while slapping away the oaf’s hand just to her left. The bloody sod wouldn’t stop pawing at her skirt and touching her right ankle. Any touch to her legs made Lia want to claw and kick. Anything to hide her shame.

Keep it together.

She smiled at the drunken crowd in the large, dimly lit tavern, and continued to play her part as the mysterious traveling bard. People were always intrigued by the mysterious. In truth, Lia was just your average young woman trying to keep her family fed.

The last note fell from her lips and the men and women cheered, some slamming the bottom of their tankards against the tables. Lia smiled, her stomach cramping as a serving maid passed by the small stage with two bowls of stew and crusty bread. Gods, when was the last time she’d had a proper meal? Two days? Three?

She reached for the cup of water on a stool to her left and took a sip, praying it would settle her empty stomach. Just a few more songs until she’d finish her set, then the barkeeper had promised some dinner for herself and her brother.

Speaking of her brother…

Dahlia scanned the room, searching for Cosmos’ familiar mop of dark strawberry-blond hair. Her lips thinned when she didn’t find him. Where was the little devil? He was not supposed to leave his chair tonight with so many of the Giver’s Recurrence in attendance—the slum lord’s elite bruisers. The thug’s men usually didn’t leave their little kingdom of Wicked unless on a job. What were they up to tonight?

Mentally, she kicked herself. During her performances, she lost herself to the music, something Cosmos well knew. He sometimes used her distraction to sneak out and spend time with friends … if you could call them that. He’d fallen in with the wrong crowd in the last year, and she couldn’t pry him from them. Lia growled underneath her breath. When she found her brother, she would skin him.

A large palm settled against her ankle once again, meaty fingers encircling the delicate bones.

He’d picked the wrong day to bother Dahlia.

Rotating her hips, Lia glared down at the man grinning up at her and kicked him in the forearm with the left foot of her pointy-toed slipper. She’d had them reenforced with metal for occasions such as these. He dropped her ankle and howled, clutching his arm. She yanked a dagger from the secret pocket in her dress and dropped into a squat, pressing the sharp tip into the man’s belly. His dark eyes widened comically.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she hissed softly. “Or I will gut you like the pig that you are.” The leather ring woven through the fingers of his right hand caught her eye, and her scowl deepened. Not only a worm but a philanderer. “Maybe I should find your wife and tell her what you’ve been up to.”

He turned paler and leaned away from her blade. “I meant nothing by it. It’s just a little fun.”

“It’s only fun when both of us consent to it. What you were doing was not innocent,” Lia practically growled. “Be gone with you.”

He scrambled from his chair and disappeared.

Good riddance .

Dahlia slowly stood and stowed her blade. He was a degenerate and a bully, to be sure. She hoped he minded his manners from here on out, but that wasn’t likely. At least this was the last night at The Bawdy Bessy for a few weeks, so if he got any ideas about exacting revenge for the slight, she’d be long gone.

Straightening her skirt, she stepped back into the center of the small, raised stage and began clapping her hands and stomping her foot to a slow, rhythmic beat. Soon the whole tavern joined in, and Dahlia opened her mouth and sang.

Only a few more songs and then she could eat.

Hopefully, her stomach wouldn’t devour itself in the process.

By the time she’d finished for the night, Dahlia was hot and sweaty. Her heavy fall of reddish-blonde hair stuck to the back of her neck uncomfortably. She waved to her well-wishers and scooped up the meager coins that some of the patrons had tossed into the basket at her feet. It wasn’t much, but they would be able to buy two-day-old loaves of bread. And from her earnings tonight, she’d be able to pay off the last of their debt to the Giver.

Lia shivered just thinking about the creature whom they still owed gold.

She coiled her hair up on top of her head and pinned it in place as she wove through the rowdy crowd toward the bar top. It killed her that they’d been desperate enough to seek the Giver’s help in the first place. They hadn’t borrowed much, but the interest had buried them. They’d needed the money for Cosmos’ medicine, which he couldn’t do without or his fits would emerge, leaving him writhing with his eyes rolled back into his head.

She remembered her mother taking Cosmos and herself to the temples as children. That didn’t last long once they’d seen one of her brother’s episodes and had glimpsed the mottled skin of her legs. Dahlia swallowed hard; she could still see the clerics screaming at her mother that she’d birthed the offspring of darkness. Dahlia scrubbed her palms along her biceps to ward off the sudden chill that ran down her spine. Even now, she was terrified of anyone who wore the amaranth robes of a cleric. They’d burned one too many people in the name of light.

Lia caught the eye of the barkeeper and jerked her chin toward him. Viro was a tall, thin, older man who looked like a stiff wind could blow him over. That was part of his power. People underestimated him, but she’d seen him knock out four men double his size and half his age. He was not someone to mess with, which was why she liked performing at The Bawdy Bess. While there were lechers every so often, he kept them in line. It was one of the few taverns in which she felt safe.

Her eyes slanted to the Recurrence sitting at a table in the back. Almost completely safe.

Viro placed two bowls of steaming meat and vegetable stew before her with a whole loaf of fresh bread.

Dahlia shook her head and pushed the loaf of bread away, despite how her mouth watered. “We didn’t agree on bread, and I can’t afford it.”

The barkeep’s eyes narrowed, and he stubbornly pushed back the bread. “It was slightly burnt. I couldn’t sell this. Take it. Every time I see you, you’re paler and thinner.”

Heat burned in her cheeks as she held his gaze, her fingers twitching against the bread. He pitied her. A few years ago, Lia’s pride would have kept her from accepting such a gift. And a gift it was. The loaf didn’t have a bit of char on it.

“Thank you,” she murmured, giving in for the sake of her brother. She swore he had a hollow leg with as much as he needed to eat.

Viro gave her a sharp nod, the tension on his face easing some. The older man didn’t smile often but this was as close to satisfied as she’d ever seen him. “Eat, and then I’ll settle your payment.”

Dahlia bit her bottom lip and glanced out the window. It was far beyond dark, and she didn’t want to wait any longer to visit the Giver. Their debt was due by sunrise. “Can you pay me now?”

The barkeeper nodded and dug into his pocket. “I can do that. May I ask where you’re off to in such a hurry?”

She debated telling him a lie, and decided it was smart if at least one person knew where she was going. “The Giver.”

Viro stiffened, and glanced around the tavern, his gaze resting on the Recurrence before slapping the coin into her open palm. She quickly hid it in one of her secret pockets. There were way too many pickpockets in their city.

“Lass, you should know better than cavorting with that miscreant.” Disproval dripped from his words. “He’s a monster. One of them .”

Lia hid a shudder and shrugged. “I had no other choice.” She balanced the bread over the top of one of the bowls and pushed it back toward him. “Will you keep this in the back for Cosmos and give him a message for me? I lost track of him during the set. I am going to eat and then visit the Giver. I’ll be back for him later tonight.”

Viro now outright glared down at her. “You’re going alone?”

“I know how to protect myself.” To a point. It wasn’t as if she was some great warrior, but she’d picked up some skills over her travels in the last nine years. Enough to get her into trouble. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

The barkeeper grunted before holding up one finger. “Don’t leave before I come back.”

She shrugged and dug into her stew. Flavor exploded across her tongue as she tried to savor the soup. It was just too good. The veggies were sweet, the meat tender, and the broth salty. Just as she gulped down the last bit, just short of licking the wooden bowl, Viro moved back to her. He placed a tiny canvas bag on the bar before her.

“Take this with you. If you run into any trouble, just toss a little of that at your attacker, or dip your fingers into it and smear it across their face.”

She eyed the bag. “What is it?” Please don’t be poison.

“Ground chiles from the south. Don’t get any near your own eyes or you will want to tear them out to stop the burning for about twelve hours.”

That sounded horrible. Carefully, she placed the little spice bag into her pocket. “Thank you once again. I’ll pay you back.” Lia didn’t know how, but she would try.

“No need. You bring me more customers than any other bard in the area.” He plucked her bowl and spoon from the counter and turned away. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

Steeling her nerves for the task ahead, Dahlia retrieved her threadbare cloak from the paneled wall, tossed it over her shoulders, and slipped outside. The air held a chill, signaling that fall was soon to be gone for the year. She lifted her hood over her hair and avoided as many people as possible as she made her way down to Wicked.

Lia avoided puddles of unmentionable liquids on the cobbled lane and breathed through her mouth to try to filter out some of the wretched stench that permeated the edge of the area. Brothels, peepshows, and gambling taverns filled the rookery. Whatever your diversion or perversion, the Giver supplied it. She crept along the street, trying to avoid attention, but from the way the hair stood up at the base of her neck, she knew she was being watched. The Recurrence was always creeping around, surveying the Giver’s personal kingdom.

Upon reaching the Giver’s palace—a gentlemen’s club that no real gentlemen would ever enter—she inhaled deeply and fortified herself for what was to come. Stars, she wished she had Cosmos. While he was only fourteen, the boy was nearly six foot tall, and scared off interested men just by scowling at them.

That was a selfish thought. She’d never bring her brother anywhere near the monster of the slums. The half-blood frost giant struck terror inside her every month she had to pay down their debt. Each time she stared into his soulless black gaze, all she could see was the Haunt as he beat her mother half to death. A shudder wracked her body, but she pushed through it.

Time to get this over with.

She pulled a king face card from her pocket and held it up to the guard at the door. The rough-looking man nodded to her and opened the sturdy door to the brothel.

Lia kept her expression placid, and just barely kept her nose from wrinkling at the scent of rose perfume, sweat, spirits, and sex. She quickly strode down the gaudy, low-lit corridor, and kept her eyes straight ahead. One time in the past, she’d made the mistake of looking into one of the rooms, and it still haunted her to that day.

Her pulse sped up as she reached the double mahogany doors at the end. Two Recurrence dressed in livery guarded the door. It was a joke, really, an attempt to make his thugs look more civilized. They were animals in lace protecting a monster parading as a king.

Shoving her thoughts away, she once again held up the card, and they let her inside. Dahlia didn’t hesitate to go inside the Giver’s repayment chambers. Hesitation was weakness in this world, and she wouldn’t be seen as their prey.

She’d never be prey again.

She blinked hard at the bright lights. It always threw her off. The proportions of the furniture were wrong, just a bit too big and angular. Torches lined the walls, and two fireplaces crackled on either side of the gilded room. Every surface seemed to shine with gold. She focused on the Giver, who loomed behind his immense desk, smiling, fangs bared.

Her pulse sped up, but she kept calm. He might be half frost giant, but he wouldn’t eat her. At least not today. She still owed him a debt. If there was one thing she knew about him, he was greedy.

He waved a large light-blue hand at one of his plush scarlet seats and she barely managed to suppress a flinch.

“Please sit. We have much to talk about.” His smile widened and it sent ice through her veins.

Gray skin, black claws, blood…

Dahlia shut down the memory trying to surface and strode farther into the room. She stumbled when she caught sight of her brother tied up and kneeling beside the Giver on the floor, his brown eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Cosmos whispered.

Her knees wobbled and threatened to give out. She placed a hand on the velvet chair to steady herself before once again meeting the Giver’s gleeful black gaze.

“What is this?” she rasped, feeling like the world was about to collapse upon her.

“This is a sentencing, my dear. We’ll discover what your brother’s fate is together. Isn’t that exciting?”