Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
DAHLIA
Dahlia dried her hair by the woodstove.
Stared at the bed.
Fretted over Loshika and Cosmos.
Stared at the bed.
Stoked the fire.
And eventually sat on the edge of the mattress.
It had been five days since she’d seen the Frost King.
Every day, food was delivered by silent Haunts who guarded the tent.
She’d been chained to the massive post that held up the peak of the tent.
Every time she moved, the slide of metal was a reminder that she was trapped.
She’d gotten used to Loriian plumbing and using a rustic chamber pot to relieve herself was downright embarrassing.
The only blessing was the bath each night.
She stared at the wine on the table and for the first time in a long time made a selfish decision. Lia stood from the furs and tip-toed towards the center table, fingertips flirting over the jug of wine. She glanced at the tent flaps as if someone would stop her.
No alarm was raised. They didn’t expect Lia to get up to mischief.
Dahlia ran her palms up and down her biceps. The room was so cold. The last of the firewood was long gone, casting the tent in shadows. The wine would warm her up from the inside out.
With careful motions, she pulled the jug of wine from the table and hugged it to her chest. She flicked a glance at the bed and scowled, before padding over to the center post and leaning her back against it, eyeing the entrance once more. She stared down into the swirling deep purple liquid.
Bottom’s up.
Lia hefted the silver jug to her lips and sipped the frost wine. Berries, heat, and bitterness burst across her tastebuds. Not the best thing she’d ever drank, but not the worst. She swallowed mouthfuls until her stomach was full and her body was warm.She set the jug on the floor and then waited.
It wasn’t too long until the effects hit her.
Loriian wine could knock a full-grown man on his bottom in no time flat. She’d seen it happen at Diaz’s tavern. Warmth suffused her arms and legs, chasing away the horrid cold that always seemed to be present. Maybe it was coming from her own soul.
She chuckled, tilting her head back against the smoot wooden beam.
Dahlia sank into the bliss ad comfort she’d seen so many imbibe in over the years.
Her eyes closed and patterns danced along her eyelids in bursts of color.
They were so pretty it made he want to sing.
To dance. When was the last time she’d sung anything?
Dahlia forced her eyes open and smiled, tears springing to her eyes as a lullaby her mum used to sing came to the front of her mind. What if she couldn’t sing anymore? What if grief and pain had stolen her voice?
“Just sing,” her mum’s voice whispered in her mind. “Let it out.”
Her voice shook as the melody fell from her lips, a little shaky at first. She patted her thigh, a soft beat as she began swaying to the music.
Her voice grew stronger. The lullaby ended but she couldn’t stop singing.
Aria after aria poured out of Lia. Tossing her hands in the air, she danced, the chains clinking merrily.
Delicous shivers ran up and down her spine as she ran her hands along her warm, sensitive skin. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
She could die happy,
Death. Her mum. Cosmos. Lo. Neve.
Her smile faded a touch.
A Mournful tale poured from her soul. Tears coated her cheeks as her voice rose and lowered with feeling. It was pain, loss, hopelessness, and unending grief. She pressed her hands to her warm chest and wound up for the crescendo. More tears fell as her surroundings completely disappeared.
The last stanza left her mouth and hovered in the air.
Lia let this silence rest, the murmur of Loriia voices dwindling into the deep of night.
She opened her eyes, meeting the king’s devasting gaze.
Emotion simmered in the onyx pools of his eyes.
She should have been unnerved, but she could only smile through the tears. Her mom would have loved that song.
Olwen stood by Neve’s side, his mouth hanging open. “Did you know she could do that? I felt as if I were at the theater.” White shimmered in his eyes. She’d woken the berserker.
“Leave us,” Neve demanded, never taking his attention from Dahlia.
His commander grinned and fled.
Dahlia stared at her husband with a smile.
“Niliov,” she murmured.
“Niliave,” he replied, gaze roaming over her flushed face.
His lips pursed as he spotted the wine jug at her feet.
He slowly prowled into the tent and lifted it from the floor.
The Frost King swirled its contents before taking a healthy sip himself.
His black tongue darted out to lick the place her own lips had touched.
Heat flushed through her body that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He eyed her over the rim before reaching around the post to set the jug on the table. He placed a hand above her hand and captured her chin with the other.
Lia couldn’t look away from his handsome face if she tried. Without her permissions, her hands lifted and traced the sharp edges of his indigo jaw. “Beautiful,” she whispered.
He turned his face and pressed a kiss to the inside of her palm.
A riot of butterflies took flight in her stomach.
His finger skated down her arm, wrapping around the manacles cuffing her wrist. He paused scowling at the metal before producing a key from his pocket. She sighed when Neve released both.
Lia rubbed at both of her wrists.
“Better?” he murmured.
Dahlia beamed up at him and he gaped. “Much.”
The Frost King squinted at her. “How much wine have you had, jaivelle?”
She shrugged. “Enough that I am finally warm.”
Neve glanced at the woodstove and muttered in Loriian underneath his breath, before his full focus settled on her once again. “You should be in bed.”
She loathed sleeping. It just brought nightmares. Lia wasn’t sure how much time she had left in this world and she didn’t want to waste them sleeping.
Dahlia tried to move away but her legs were quite unsteady. She toppled to the side only to find herself in Neve’s arms. Lia snuggled into his warm embrace, her palm between his hearts.
“You’re soooo big,” she said.
A small quirk at the corner of his mouth. “And you are tiny.”
A peel of laughter escaped her. “By human standards, I am not. I’m tall and squishy.”
“You are perfect.”
A gruff statement that had her smiling. “Not true. I am damaged.” More than he knew.
Neve set her down at the foot of the bed. Lia’s eyelids were so heavy. She lay down at the foot of the bed and pulled a blanket over the top of her, pillowing her cheek on her bicep.
The Frost King brushed a stand of hair from her cheek. “We both are.” He blew out his breath. “Could you tell me a secret?”
An alarm bell rang in the back of her mind, but it was far away. “Sure.”
“When you were attacked in the mountains, were you with another… vallos?” His words were low and stiff.
Her nose wrinkled. Why would he think that? “No, males aren’t safe.” Her mind went to poor Lo and her eyes filled. Neve dashed one of her tears away, his claw skittering over the delicate skin underneath her eye.
“They hurt my friend,” she whispered. “They hurt me.” Her bite throbbed at the reminder. The monster had branded her. She glanced at the tent pin once before snuggling in, and avoiding her husband’s gaze. Safety was just an arm’s length away.
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
The sound of a fire crackling pulled her from troubled sleep.
Lia blinked sleepily, staring at a familiar muscular back.
The Frost King crouched in front of the woodstove, stuffing it full.
Sweat dripped down his bare back, his hair pulled into an intricate blue-black braid that followed the length of his spine, down to taut glutes.
How was he so handsome? He was so different than Lia in so many ways, and yet, every part of him called to her. Even the dangerous parts.
As if he could feel her gaze, he glanced over his shoulder before looking away. “Go back to bed.”
She snuggled deeper into the covers, her eyelids slowly falling shut when he dropped into one of the chairs by the table, the wood groaning underneath his weight.
Her mind wandered until she found herself standing outside her mother’s home. Lia brushed her hair off her face and covered her mouth when she spotted a trail of blood in the crisp white snow, leading toward the river. She rounded the house, wishing she could escape, but knowing what she’d find.
The Giver grinned at her, his teeth all pointed, his skin changing from blue to white. His eyes were like pits of tar. “You chose this,” he shouted, shaking her mother.
Her mum whimpered in his arms, her gaze accusing. “This is your fault.”
Lia sobbed. “I’m sorry, Mum. I tried. I’m so sorry.”
For every step she took, they retreated closer to the river’s edge. “Stop! Please!”
He grinned maliciously. “This is what happens when you play games. You lose.”
Dahlia screamed when he tossed her mum over the edge into the frigid waters. She raced to the steep bank and dropped to her hands and knees, fingers sinking into the snow. She scoured the water, but her mum never surfaced. “No, no, no, no.”
“This is your doing, sweet flower,” the Giver whispered in her ear. “Just remember you will never escape me. You’re mine, Dahlia.”
“Dahlia.”
Her eyes snapped open, gazing up into the face of a monster.
She screamed and bolted, knocking her knee into something sharp.
She shivered as she crawled underneath the table, wrapping her arms around her knees.
She rocked in place, trying to dispel fear and grief, a bird screech echoing in her ears.
It was just a nightmare. He’s gone. You’re safe.