Chapter Thirty-Six
Calista
A raw sound ripped out of me as I hit the ground. My fingers clawed at Trystan’s grip to no avail.
He leaned close enough that his breath steamed my cheek. “You want to know why I’m here?”
I spat snow. “Because you want the throne.” I eyed my crescent, only a few inches away.
His smile sharpened. “Sure, that too. But that’s not the only reason.”
“Please, by all means, bore me with the details,” I hissed.
“There’s that Hollowcrest spine.” His head fell back in a chuckle, and I snatched my crescent, slipping it beneath my knee. Trystan, so enthralled by his own story, completely missed it.
“The Savage King stole my promised mate. Did he ever tell you that? We may not have been mystically Moonbound, that sacred blessing appears in few, but she was to be mine all the same.”
The words hit wrong, sharp enough to make me still. And yet that term Moonbound, echoed in my mind like an old memory.
“He stole Valina from me as if the throne gave him the right to take whatever he wanted,” he snarled.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” And for the first time his eyes didn’t look amused. They looked hungry. “She was promised to me. Chosen and bound for Thornwild. Then Frostcrag’s beast came with his laws, his strength and his bloody crown and decided he could take her from me.”
My chest heaved, mind scrambling. “Savage doesn’t take—”
“He takes,” Trystan snapped, his false pleasant tone cracking. “He took my future. My line. My claim.”
Snow hissed between us. The storm made everything feel close and sharp.
“This,” he said, spreading his hand as if presenting me, “is payback.”
I grunted. “You’ll never have me.”
“Oh, I will.” His gaze cut to the coast below, where the dark outline of water moved beyond the trees. “First, I’ll steal his precious bride prize, then I’ll steal his throne.”
“You’re mad,” I hissed.
Trystan’s hand tightened on my arm, bruising. “Mad? No, just focused. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
I tried to jerk free. Pain flashed in my ankle, and I nearly toppled over.
He laughed softly. “There it is. The weakness.”
My breath came harsh, but I forced myself to steady. “Sav—Everest will come for me.”
Trystan’s brows rose, then a chuckle. “Will he?”
“Yes.” The word came out like a vow, and I hated that I meant it. Savage would come for me if for no other reason than to secure the goddess’s gift, while Everest… I trusted him with my life.
Trystan leaned closer. “You almost said his name,” he murmured. “Sav—”
I jerked my chin up. “He’s my betrothed...”
His smile turned cruel. “You don’t even know which male you’re begging to save you.”
“I don’t need to be saved by either of them.” I lunged again, snatching the crescent beneath my knee. The blade dragged across his chest, slicing through his tunic. Blood blossomed across the torn garment. With a curse, he caught my wrist again and twisted until pain stole my grip.
My blade fell into the snow once more. He grabbed my waist and hauled me up in one brutal motion. Then he lifted me, throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of furs.
I slammed my fists into his back, punching and kicking. “Put me down!”
“I’ll truss you up like a wild boar if you keep thrashing,” he said lightly. “And I’d hate for my stolen bride to arrive ruined.”
“Go to frost,” I snarled and flicked him my first two fingers, showing fangs.
Ignoring me, Trystan started moving, carrying me through the trees as if I weighed nothing. Snow whipped my face. The fur cloak tangled around my legs, and my ankle throbbed with every jolt.
I twisted, trying to hook an arm around his neck, trying to choke him, but he shifted his grip. He clamped one hand around my thigh and the other trapped my arms beneath me, pinning me in place.
“You can fight.” His breath came easily despite the terrain. “I like that.”
“I will kill you.”
“No,” he replied. “You’ll become my message to the king.”
I thrashed harder, landing a boot to his chest. Pain tore through my ankle, and I cried out before I could stop it.
Trystan’s hand tightened on my thigh. “Stop fighting. Save your breath.”
“I hope Everest tears your throat out,” I growled.
He paused just long enough to look over his shoulder, eyes bright with something ugly. “He can try.”
My mind raced. I still had my rope, one crescent and a knife tucked in my boot. If I could just reach either…
As if the bastard had read my thoughts, he wrenched me off his shoulder and tossed me into the snow.
I hit hard, the air punching from my lungs. Before I could fully recover, Trystan was on me, one knee driving into my stomach as he caught both my wrists in one hand and slammed them above my head.
I bucked hard enough to throw us half sideways. Snow sprayed. My free leg came up fast, and I caught him in the ribs with my heel.
He grunted.
I twisted my wrists, trying to slip his grip, and snatched for the knife at my boot with my other hand. My fingers brushed the hilt.
Then his hand closed over mine and smashed it back into the snow.
“No,” he said, almost amused. “That would be inconvenient.”
I spat at him.
He turned his face and it hit his jaw instead of his mouth. “That was rude.”
“Go to frost.”
He laughed under his breath and yanked my arms down hard enough to make my shoulders ache. Then he hauled one wrist behind my back, then the other, pinning both there with terrifying force.
I thrashed, trying to roll, trying to throw him off, but he was stronger and maddeningly steady.
“Enough.”
“Frost you.”
He shifted his weight, one forearm braced across my shoulder blades as he dragged a length of cord from his belt with the other hand. Cold dread slid through me.
No.
I jerked hard, nearly dislocating a shoulder to get my hands free. He swore and tightened his grip, forcing my wrists together. The cord bit skin a breath later, one cruel loop, then another.
I twisted and slammed my head backward. It connected with his cheekbone.
Pain exploded through my skull. Trystan hissed. Worth it. Somehow, I smiled through it, feral and breathless.
“You are making this far uglier than it needs to be.”
“You kidnapped me, you arrogant bastard. I’d say we’re well past ugly.”
He tied the knot hard enough to make my fingers tingle, then reached for my ankles. I kicked, wild and furious, landing one heel in his shoulder and nearly throwing him off again. For one glorious second his balance went.
I rolled and snatched for my fallen knife. My bound hands made it clumsy, but my fingers closed around the hilt anyway. I dragged it up, twisting just as he lunged.
The blade slashed across his forearm, but at the odd angle, it wasn’t deep enough. His blood hit the snow in three bright drops.
Trystan smiled. “There you are.” He caught my wrist before I could strike again and slammed my hand into the snow until the knife flew free. Then he grabbed both my bound wrists in one hand and used the other to pin my throat.
“I was trying not to bruise the bride,” he murmured. “You’re making that difficult.”
I bared my teeth at him. “I’d rather die than ever be your bride.”
He released my throat only to drag me upright by the rope at my wrists. I kicked at his knees. “That’s enough.”
“No.” It came out ragged, furious, and absolute. I lunged at him anyway, bound hands swinging, more animal than graceful now. Growling, I bared my teeth and chomped down on his shoulder.
A laugh of surprise erupted. Then his hand came up, faster than I expected, the edge of it striking the side of my neck in one sharp blow.
The world lurched, the trees tilted.
For a heartbeat I stayed upright out of sheer spite, glaring at him through the blur. “You,” I slurred, trying to gather enough breath for something cutting, “are a frost-cursed—”
Darkness punched through the sentence before I could finish it.