Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
DAHLIA
The frost giant king hadn’t come back.
The longer she sat in the tent, the more dread she experienced.
Nothing had gone the way she’d planned. Dahlia paced the tent, ignoring the food that the silent Haunts had set on the table.
Her stomach was too upset for food. Last night, she’d come to the camp with Loshika’s warning and shock stealing rational thought.
Today, her thoughts were much clearer.
She only had herself to rely on.
Neve was clearly not himself.
And there was something much bigger going on.
She rubbed her hands along her arms to ward off the goosebumps.
The fire had gone out in the woodstove hours ago.
Lia eyed the tent flap, listening for any approaching footsteps before she knelt by the sleeping pads.
She pulled one of the yellow crystal pieces she had stolen from the mess on the floor and uncovered the tent pin she’d been working on all afternoon.
Gritting her teeth, she used the crystal to scratch at the frozen ground, little by little freeing more of the iron pin.
During the madness of the prior night, she’d lost her dagger.
Which left Dahlia without protection. Something she couldn’t stomach.
The light moved across the ceiling of the tent, and sweat dotted her brow as she continued to work, getting deeper and deeper until the tent pin came free.
She grinned at its wicked point. This was something she could work with.
Dahlia set it aside and lifted the edge of the tent to peek out.
Tents surrounded them, and a few giants milled about, mostly nonnae, cooks, and helpers, it seemed.
She tested how far up the canvas would lift and grimaced.
It would be a tight fit if she tried to escape this way.
Lia grumbled, setting the heavy tent back down and replacing the pin.
She brushed the dirt back into place and dusted her hands off, squinting to double-check her work.
Dahlia had a feeling the next time the Frost King made an appearance, it would go much differently than this morning.
Tangling tongues, clenching hands, and so much heat.
She blushed and slapped her hands against her warm cheeks, scowling at herself. She couldn’t allow herself to get distracted by rippling muscles and decadent touches. She needed to be logical, not emotional.
Kicking the rug back into place, she prayed it wouldn’t be too windy in the night and give her away.
Slowly, she stood, bringing a blanket with her from the bed.
She tossed it over her shoulders and sighed at the extra warmth.
The tent darkened as night approached. Her nerves ratcheted up a notch when voices started to filter through the camp, softly at first, slowly getting louder.
The army was returning.
Lia walked the width of the circular tent to keep herself busy and warm. Her toes were cold, but the movement helped to act as a distraction. Her eyes adjusted as full night set, the only light from the illumination the bonfire shed on the canvas walls of the tent.
The scent of savory roasted meat filled the air along with yeasty bread.
The flap lifted, and she stilled as the Frost King stepped inside.
He seemed to take up the whole space. Silver armor covered his chest, shoulders, and arms. Speckles of blood tarnished them. His lips were pressed thin, and his movements were stiff. Lia pulled the blanket closer as if it would offer her any sort of protection from him.
Neve inhaled once and his body shuddered. He took one step in her direction and then stopped, a look of disgust crossing his face. He spun on his heel with a hiss and left the tent.
Wide-eyed, Lia stared at the space he’d just occupied. What had that been about? It seemed her existence was enough to make him angry.
You did try to kill him.
She crushed her blanket in her hands when pain and guilt washed over her.
The Frost King stomped back inside, his left arm full of firewood. She watched wordlessly as he crouched before the stove and started a fire. Her jaw dropped when Neve pulled apart a few pieces of wood with his bare hands instead of chopping it.
Just how strong was he?
The fire grew as he fed it smaller kindling and eventually larger pieces until it was roaring. He slowly stood and faced her. “You should have asked for a fire, valles,” he stated, irritation coloring his tone.
So she was back to being called female.
That was fine. She could allow him to be nothing more than the Frost King.
“I am fine, my lord.” She wasn’t freezing to death, but she wasn’t cozy either. Lia had survived much worse running for her life.
He snorted. “I could hear your flat horse teeth chattering outside the camp.”
Lia rolled her eyes. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” She caught another whiff of meat, and her stomach growled. Loudly.
Neve walked to the table and scowled when he spotted her plate. “Do I need to feed you like a babe? Are you that incapable of taking care of yourself? Pathetic saloes.”
Gone was the passionate and slightly unhinged giant from this morning. In his place was the ice king she’d trekked across Loriia with. She deserved his hostility, she knew, but Lia had always hated bullies. “I was not hungry.”
“Your body is saying something different.”
“If I had eaten, I would have thrown it back up.” She lifted her chin. “I refuse to die with vomit on my face, my lord.”
He blinked slowly. “You think I will kill you the moment you turn your back?”
Dahlia laughed and slipped the blanket from her shoulders as the tent started to warm.
She tossed it onto the table between them.
“No, but I have no doubt that your Haunt would do it for you, Reillov.” It was odd that Flyka hadn’t shown up yet.
She’d been waiting for the assassin to sneak up on her and slit her throat all day.
He scoffed. “When your time comes, it will not be by Flyka’s hand, nor will it be in secret. You will pay for your crimes, and I will be your punisher.”
Her gaze dropped to the fire and then back to him. “If you want to punish me, protecting me from the cold is a bad start.” Lia snapped her mouth shut and fumed silently. Why was she egging him on?
Get yourself under control.
The Frost King glided to her, seemingly stealing the breath from her lungs. He twisted a piece of her faded black hair around his finger, and a cruel smile tipped up his lips.
“Do you know how they break spies in Loriia?” he whispered.
“First, they are interrogated. Sometimes, this ends up in injury. Second, we allow them to escape. One of our people always takes them in to help them heal.” He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her temple, his hand curled around her hip.
“It’s this little bit of freedom—of hope—that is the key.
Third, once they are almost healed, we capture them again.
This is what truly breaks their minds.” He pulled back a sneer on his face.
“I wanted a fire, and so I made it be. Stop thinking that any of this is for your benefit.” He sniffed heavily. “And you stink. It’s disgusting.”
Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.
Lia lifted her chin and smiled. “It must not bother you since you can’t keep your hands off me, my lord.”
Take that.
Neve’s smile dropped, and he pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned. He cursed and stalked away, muttering underneath his breath in Loriian as he left.
Dahlia’s heart raced at the altercation. She couldn’t help but needle him, and perhaps he’d kill her for it one day, but there was something more going on here. Lo had educated her on what happened to former traitors. Their justice was swift and violent.
So why wasn’t she swinging from the gallows?
The Asterans were already claiming the Loriians had killed her.
Why not make it so?