Chapter II
Freyr
There’s nothing behind me.
Or in front. Or on either side. Which means I’m missing something.
Shit.
Moving backward until my back hits the trunk of a nearby tree only makes me feel marginally better. My senses should be better than this. I should be better than this.
Except that I’m not. It’s pitch black, with a starless sky and the moon hidden behind dark clouds; I know I’ll never be able to see him coming.
Wonderful.
A check of my pocket watch only makes me feel worse.
It’s barely been an hour. With a huffed breath, I keep moving, trying to remember some of my training.
A sitting target is an easy target. Yeah, thanks, that’s not really helpful for someone who sounds like a herd of stampeding elephants. Stealth is not one of my few strengths.
The tree, grass, and forest life blur as I run past, nothing but wind in my face and the sharpened quiet that’s only around when I move this fast.
A twig snaps close to me, and I stop so abruptly I trip over my own feet and slam into a tree. There’s not a lot of grip on my boots, and the wet grass doesn’t help. That’s my story, and I’ll stick to it. If I remember it when asked.
There’s still no one behind me. Crap. Where is he? I crouch low and feel the grass beneath my cold fingers. Slowing my breathing to a stop lets me listen better. It doesn’t help. Probably I’m not even doing it right.
All I can feel is the dampness of the grass and the earthy scent of the dirt below it. Not exactly helpful. Maybe if I wanted to do some gardening. Like I’d even know where to start. I’d plant everything in the wrong season. Is that how food works?
Instead of bothering to attempt that again, I scramble up the nearest tree and perch halfway up on a thick branch. At least this way I have a better vantage point. In theory, it should be easier to spot anyone from here.
There’s nothing. Of course.
Did I imagine it? It’s not like my tracking skills are of any use. They don’t exist, no matter how often I train or how many years I’ve given to hone the craft. I have nothing to show for it except an ever-growing disgust of forest terrain and an appreciation for the indoors.
I step forward to jump down from my perch, and I’m slammed into hard from behind.
The ground hits fast and with force, and I don’t get a chance to recover before a heavy weight traps me.
Attempting to buck the assailant off gets me nowhere.
Well, my face is pressed harder into the ground. Does that count?
“If this were a real fight, you’d be dead,” my attacker whispers harshly in my ear. “You made that too easy.”
“Get off me!”
There’s a deep chuckle in my ear, and then the pressure eases. I flop onto my back and sigh. If I stay here forever, I won’t have to do that again. I’ve already proven time and again that I’m not cut out for this. It’s just torture at this point. He probably likes that, the fucking sadist.
Soren stands over me, one hand on his hip, a scowl on his face. The bright-blond hair and dark-blue eyes do nothing to temper the disappointment evident. It’s a look I’m unfortunately very familiar with.
“Were you even trying?” he asks, his Norwegian accent thick.
I’m not answering that, on principle. His idea of “trying” is vastly different from mine. I stand with a groan, a throbbing ache in my back. “I think you broke something.” I might be hard to kill, but I bruise easily. It’s the pale skin. Also, it still hurts.
“If I broke something, you’d know about it.”
I can only grunt as I roll my shoulder. Broken or not, it feels like I just went ten rounds with a grizzly.
I assume. I’ve never done that, but I imagine that’s what it would feel like.
I can relate. “Can we go now? I’m sick of playing these games.
” Ending up in the dirt every day? Zero out of ten, would not recommend.
“They aren’t games, Frey. They’re teaching you how to survive.”
“Are they?” That might be true if I were actually learning anything.
I’m not made for it, and it doesn’t matter how hard I try.
Besides that— “We’re in the most secure place in the world, surrounded by guards who watch my every move like a hawk.
” Not to mention my two specific bodyguards.
There isn’t a single second outside of my personal suite that I’m not being watched.
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to live outside these walls.
There’s danger, sure, but there’s freedom too. I can’t even imagine it.
Soren looks unimpressed with my reasoning. “They may not always be around to protect you.”
Right. In what world do we think my father would let me go anywhere without an escort? I’ve never even left the estate grounds in my entire one hundred and thirty-five years. I don’t see that changing any time soon. That would require loosening my leash.
Soren crosses his arms over his chest and eyes me critically. “I saw you trying to get a feel for the grass. What did you notice?”
“It’s cold, and it smells funny.” Like outdoors. Gross. Give me a warm fire and a soft blanket any day.
He doesn’t crack a smile. “Besides that.”
“I don’t know.” I roll my eyes, which is a habit bodyguard number one has been trying to eradicate for too long now. Okay, bodyguard number two probably has the same agenda. “Nothing. It’s just grass.”
“You aren’t taking this seriously.”
“I don’t want to play soldier,” I grumble, stumbling behind Soren as he leads the way back to the castle. Can’t even walk properly.
Soren lets out a breath and shakes his head. “C’mon, we need to get you back so you can get ready for the party.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t care.”
Should have expected that response. No one ever cares what I want. I guess that would matter more if I actually knew what I wanted.
TWO HOURS LATER AND I’m wishing I were back outside, touching cold grass and getting bruises in uncomfortable places.
Anything is preferable to dealing with a room full of pretentious vampyres.
Even regular vampyres are trying. The fawning got old when I was ten.
It’s unbearable now, especially considering the way my father shows me off like a prized pet.
Hence why I’ve been dodging him for the last half hour. He’s let me get away with it so far, but I know the reprieve won’t last.
Soren is close by, but he hasn’t approached me, so I feel decidedly abandoned.
Time to check out the drinks. If I look busy drinking, then no one can talk to me, right? That has to be how it works. I need it to.
The crystal glasses are filled with different flavored blood wines, including an apple mixture that I really enjoy.
Normally, I’d be all over that, but right now it looks about as appetizing as a rotting corpse.
So there goes my brilliant plan to drink wine and look too important to talk to.
I’d really hear about it if I threw up over the guests.
Though it might be worth it just to see the look on some people’s faces, including my father. Especially my father.
“Freyr.”
And there goes my hiding plan. Failure after failure tonight. Should have stayed in my room.
Pasting a fake smile on my face, I turn and greet my father with a small bow.
“King Auden.” I hate the formalities. The pomp and circumstance.
The ritual of hierarchy. Being surrounded by so many people watching me, checking whether I’m doing it right, and waiting for me to step wrong so they can pounce.
“Come here, I’d like you to meet Lord Ramell and his daughter, Lady Sirra.”
The way the daughter smiles at me, moving closer, has bile rising in my throat. There’s a knowing look in my father’s eye when I glance at him. The sickening feeling worsens. I want to leave now. Like right now. This very second.
“Congratulations on your recent engagement, Prince Freyr,” Lord Ramell says, lifting his wine glass in salutation.
My what? It takes everything in me to hold my smile and not make a face like I just drank soured blood.
“Thank you,” feels like the only thing to say.
The response my father will expect. When did this happen?
Is it to Lady Sirra? I can’t ask, because what if it’s not.
That would be awkward; I’m already supposed to know.
“His Majesty was just telling me about tonight’s entertainment,” he continues, oblivious to my obvious discomfort and confusion. “I do so look forward to it.”
Entertainment? I turn to my father in question, who merely smiles at me, swirling the blood in his own wine glass.
This has to be some kind of trap. I wish Soren had finished me off in the woods and put me out of my misery. I thought he was my friend as well as my bodyguard.
“I’ve never seen one untamed up close,” Lady Sirra says, lowering her voice as though she’s sharing a secret. “I’m also looking forward to it.”
Untamed? She can’t mean—my lips part in surprise, and I once again turn to my father for some kind of explanation.
“Excuse us,” King Auden says gruffly, grasping my elbow and tugging me away without another word.
He takes us to a quieter area, close to where the throne platform is roped off, only available for the two of us.
I assume my mother once sat there as well.
She’s been gone a long time, and I never knew her or what happened to her.
Blue eyes lock onto me, cold as ever. I resist the urge to swallow or show any signs of nervousness. He’s like a shark circling feeding waters. I really should have just stayed in my room.
“I have a task for you.”
What does that mean? A “task”? The last time he had one of those for me, courtesy of his creepy second-in-command Marek whispering in his ear, I was placed in the training that’s made me miserable for years now. No, thank you.
“Okay?” I wish I could tell him what I really feel, to decline whatever this is. It requires more bravery than I possess. I know what my father would do to me to show his displeasure, and I’ll do almost anything to avoid it.