Chapter 27
THERE’S SOME REARRANGING as we don warmer clothing and Drystan ties his hair back in the knot he wore while training the other day. I have to look away because the reminder of him shirtless makes me squirm. If he noticed Min watching Asti, he must’ve noticed me.
“Your hair,” Min states, coming over. “It’ll get damaged in the cold if we—”
“I’ll do it.” Drystan intercepts before she can reach me, and then somehow he’s braiding my hair.
I’m not sure what to make of him dressing my hair or the fact that he knows how to braid. Even my Pa, who’s clever with knots, never learned how to tie my hair back, even when Annem was heavily pregnant with my brothers and I was too small to do it myself. I just had to learn quickly.
But I suppose with his long hair, Drystan knows how to look after it.
He fastens off two braids, then produces hairpins out of nowhere and uses them to coil the braids around my head.
He gives me a look over, the flicker of a smile, then nods. “There.”
It’s only when I pass a mirror on my way out that I realize he’s created a crown atop my head.
We leave through glazed doors coming off his sitting room, leading to a large private terrace, thick with snow.
One side leads down into a stretch of the gardens I haven’t seen before.
It’s open, with evergreens encroaching at the edges and a single bare tree at the center.
Its black branches are only visible against the night sky thanks to the snow clinging to them, revealing the jagged shapes.
Asti rolls her shoulders like this is a real battle, and I suddenly worry that the term “snowball fight” means something different in the Underworld—something that involves actual blood and death rather than just laughter and cold.
Min tucks her gloves into her cuffs.
Drystan eyes the snow, a crease between his eyebrows. He toes it as if unsure what to do with it before looking up at me. “After you.”
This is it. My first snowball fight. The wine is truly winning now, rushing through me warm and assured, convinced I can do anything.
I square my shoulders, take a handful of snow and throw it at him. It’s the least I can do after all he’s done to me.
Except what should be a triumphant moment of revenge delivered in the form of an ice-cold projectile just… poofs. The snow drifts in the air between us, harmless and decidedly un-ball-like.
Min and Asti burst into laughter. Drystan cocks his head, frowning at the last of my ill-fated snowball falling to the ground.
“That’s not…” Asti shakes her head. “Have you never thrown a snowball before?”
Cheeks hot, I shake my head.
She and Min exchange looks. The latter covers her mouth like she’s still smothering a laugh. “It’s not just a handful of snow. You have to pack it together.”
This time it’s Drystan and I exchanging looks, both equally blank.
Min gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll teach you.”
At Drystan’s scowl, Asti pauses. “And I’ll… remind Your Majesty.”
Diplomatically put. I’m sure it wouldn’t go down well to suggest the King of Death doesn’t know how to do something as simple as forming a snowball.
Min shows me how to form something that actually holds a shape, though it’s probably generous to call it a ball. But it’ll do to throw.
I look up to find Asti doing the same with Drystan, except he’s all frowny and focused, like he wants to make The Best Snowball That Ever Existed. The Snowball to Which All Others Will Be Compared.
The creases between his eyebrows deepen as he holds up what I have to admit is a pretty perfect snowball. “And people… enjoy this?” He arches one eyebrow at Asti.
“Well, not this part specifically. It’s this part they like.” A grin is the only warning before she lobs her example ball at Min.
“Uh! I didn’t know we were starting yet!” But her shock quickly shifts to a devious little scowl and a moment later snow is exploding from square on Asti’s chest.
Then all seven hells break loose.
I almost fall back at the first ball that hits me. More from surprise than force. I blink up, see Min covering her mouth like she’s worried she’s hurt me. Then I laugh, because I have a ball ready and an instant later it’s sailing through the air at Min.
Asti’s soon covered in snow—I guess as a guard, she feels like fair game.
She can withstand battle: she can definitely take a few snowballs.
But she’s quick to form her own barrage, packing the snow between her hand and the end of her arm.
They’re not perfect, but her aim is true, smacking into my shoulder as I try to dodge.
My laughter’s breathless as I pat together another snowball, using the dead tree as cover. Somehow this play attack and defense sends me giddy. Such a simple thing and yet it’s like I’m a child again.
All that matters is looking up and choosing my next target.
Asti and Min are locked in a duel, with Drystan using the distraction to pelt Asti with another perfectly spherical missile.
There’s a problem though.
A major problem.
The king’s black clothing and sleek, knotted hair are unmarked by so much as speck of snow. No one has attacked him. They’ve only thrown a few balls at me, perhaps worried they’ll hurt the fragile human. But Drystan?
Oh, he can definitely take it.
So, I line up my aim, one eye closed, face screwed up in concentration at my target, who’s utterly distracted by the other two. I pull my arm back. And I throw.
The snowball sails through the air.
I hold my breath.
The king turns.
And the snowball lands two feet from him.
He looks from it to me. He blinks as though the unfathomable has just happened. “Did you just attack me?”
Min and Asti’s laughter dies. Somehow Min’s on the floor, and now she leans up on one elbow, staring from me to Drystan. Her face has gone as pale as the icy garden.
But this is a snowball fight. If the king didn’t want to get attacked, he shouldn’t have joined in. So I spread my hands and lift my chin. “Well, I tried to. But I missed.”
He continues to stare at me, so I take my opportunity to scoop up a handful of snow and pack it together quickly while he’s still surprised. There’s no time to aim: I just throw.
It hits. Snow explodes from the very center of his chest as he takes a step back and stares at the white splatter across his coat like I’ve just dealt him a mortal blow.
I’ve never grinned so widely in my life.
Slowly, he looks up, and it’s like something snaps in him. His brow settles low as his eyes narrow, glinting like gold in shadow. A wicked, wicked smirk curves his mouth. “Oh dear, Nothing. You’re going to pay for that.”
My pulse kicks up like a dance spinning faster, and I’m already backing away by the time he bursts forward.
He scoops up snow without pausing.
Oh shit. I’m in trouble.
But his smirk widens as he comes, and there’s a light in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. A light I recognize from my brothers and from Pa long ago when I was little, long before illness was something we needed to worry about, when he would chase me around the garden.
Still, he’s running right at me. I turn and stumble through the snow, barely biting back a giggle at the fact I, a fisherman’s daughter, have hit the King of Death with a snowball.
He pelts my back before I make it behind the tree trunk. But when he turns, he’s the one Asti and Min are laughing at.
I’m forming my next snowball, which definitely has his name on it, when two dull thuds sound. He’s got them both in quick succession. “That’s for laughing at me.”
Asti wipes snow from her face as she turns and exchanges a look with Min, who’s brushing off her stomach. An unspoken agreement passes between them before they turn back to Drystan. “We humbly beg Your Majesty’s pardon,” Min says, shaking her head solemnly as they bow.
Asti looks up with a grin. “For what we’re about to do.”
I don’t even see them throw, but doof-doof, they strike Drystan square in the chest.
And just like that, the fight becomes a free-for-all.
Snow sails left and right. I stumble through it, ducking and shielding myself with one hand as I wait for the perfect moment to launch my next attack.
We work our way into the sparse trees, using them for cover, chasing each other around them.
The snow isn’t as deep here, so running’s easier.
My hips groan softly, but the wine’s warmth is still pretty convincing.
I can rest later. My cheeks are too busy aching and my eyes tearing from laughter.
Drystan chases Asti, Min and I pelt him while he’s distracted and he turns on Min. We work on another distraction, and he switches target. Everyone’s breathless, focused, like this is the only thing that exists.
Then he comes for me.
It’s only play, but energy surges through me all the same, making me as giddy as belladonna does. I flee, staggering, half-blind from the tears of laughter, barely able to plead for mercy. Half-hearted, I chuck a poorly formed snowball back and miss.
But the others haven’t forgotten me. They jump out from behind a tree, firing three times at Drystan. He skids to a stop, staring at them, giving me a chance to catch my breath and arm myself. “You do remember I’m your—”
“Your Majesty,” I call with a teasing lilt.
He turns.
I throw.
This time my aim is true, and a glorious puff of snow bursts right in his pretty face.
From within the snow, he opens his eyes. With a swipe of his hand, he clears the rest from his face, then spits out a mouthful of the stuff.
He launches at me. He doesn’t bother with any snowballs this time, just comes straight at me. Even though I can’t win, I run. If I can reach the deep snowdrift I spotted just now, I can make a sudden turn and he might run headlong into it.
Even in the snow, his steps are silent, and it sets me on edge not knowing how close he is, making nervy laughter bubble through my gasping breaths.
I dare a glance back.
He’s right there. Here.
Then he slams into me, arms around my waist, and we fly into the snowdrift. It’s cold, creaking, but I land on something soft and warm, and I’m consumed by this sound I’ve never heard before.
Drystan’s laughter.
It breaks through the freezing air. It heaves beneath me, where he’s twisted us so he’d land first. And it’s broken the cold ice of his face into… into…
Oh shit. He has dimples.
If I thought he was beautiful before, now I know he’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.
Head thrown back, face creased with mirth—he looks less like a perfect mask and more like someone who’s lived.
Melting snow glistens in his dark lashes and runs into his hair.
His body is taut beneath me, consumed by laughter.
When he took me from my home, I thought his laughter was a cruel sound with nothing happy about it. But this? It’s happy. It’s warm. It’s unshielded and free.
And it’s bloody contagious.
Because I threw a snowball in the King of Death’s face and he laughed. And if this isn’t the most absurd thing that’s happened in my life, I don’t know what is.
I collapse onto his chest, adding my laughter to his.
When I finally look up, wiping the tears from my eyes, and his laughter subsides to soft chuckles, we find we have an audience.
Asti and Min stare at us—well, at Drystan really. Their eyes are perfectly round, their mouths in matching Os, and I know at once why.
They’ve never seen their king laugh before.