Chapter 31 – Neve
Chapter 31
NEVE
V ale and I strode down the hallway, answering a summons from the king.
Tension stretched tight between us, a reminder, as if either of us needed one, that we hadn’t spoken for hours. Even now, when we should be putting on amiable faces for the public, silence rang between us, making our footsteps, and that of the guard following us, echo in the white stone corridor.
I was thankful for the silence, for in my head, I was screaming.
Vale and I were related. We couldn’t be together.
True, royals had wed other royals for centuries and most of them shared blood, but I hadn’t grown up with that expectation. How ironic then, that I’d already wed a royal. Been intimate with him too. My stomach rolled at the thought.
But what do I say to Vale?
Since he’d returned and told me about the rebels, the vampire, and the imprisoned performers, Vale had been watching me closely. He wanted to help. Possibly blamed himself for the distance between us too.
Was it better that way? Maybe I should continue to distance myself? Would that hurt him less than knowing the truth?
As we stepped outside, into a snowy courtyard filled with nobles, the queen, the heir, and the princess amongst them, my questions fell away. The people formed a loose line, and as we passed, each one studied Vale and me. Though I wanted to lie in bed and cry, I put on a show.
A false smile graced my face as a wicked wind blew tendrils of my hair into my vision. I nodded at a few people and pulled the muted sable cloak around me tighter as I followed Vale through the dense snow, which hadn’t stopped falling since yesterday morning. Even a city as used to the snow as Avaldenn couldn’t keep up with the snow removal.
“It’s colder than a mage’s touch out here,” Saga said as we joined her.
I stood between the royal siblings, wishing I could switch places with Saga, but that would look too odd. Newlyweds wanted to be near one another all the time, right?
The princess’s hand appeared from beneath the hand-dyed, pink fur cloak she loved. She gestured at the area. “What’s the event?”
“You don’t know either?” Vale asked.
“No. About an hour ago, a message arrived at my room, telling me to come here. ”
“Father is being mysterious,” Vale murmured.
“Not sure I like that.”
Neither did I, but I said nothing. Saga noticed too because she side-bumped me.
“Is your mouth frozen shut?” Her tone was light and teasing.
“Kind of,” I replied, trying to give her a true smile.
Saga cocked her head, hinting that I’d failed at my attempt. “Neve? Is something wrong?”
“No,” I lied and rubbed my hands together for something to do. “Like you said, just cold.”
Vale looked away.
Saga exhaled and a puff of white filled the air. “I guess there’s trouble in paradise.”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Vale said.
I suspected he would tell her about the vampire. A good idea. Perhaps Saga would see it coming and be able to warn him when assassins descended on the castle.
We didn’t have to suffer the uncomfortable silence hanging over our trio for too long as seconds later, a lur horn sounded. I straightened, seeking the horn blower, and found him by the door, the bronze horn to his lips as he blew again, and the king appeared.
“A lur horn?” Saga whispered. “Why?”
I understood. They were only blown during a time of war. Chills ripped down my spine as the king stomped into the courtyard, his face like ice and a white fur cloak flowing behind him.
Thankfully, my own cloak hid the tightness that took over my body as the king passed us by. For two decades, King Magnus left his father to rot in the dungeons. He had imprisoned not just rebels but innocent performers. And, of course, he didn’t care at all if I perished in a vampire attack.
If he knew my ancestry, he’d welcome it.
And what would Vale do if he found out?
I swallowed down the pain that came with that question. Vale had affection for me, but if he knew that I was of the Falk line, would he hate me as much as his father hated the Falks? Besides my disgust with myself, that was yet another reason I’d been keeping my distance from the male who had been so kind to me.
The male who, despite reason, I still felt a pull toward.
Stars, I hated myself.
As it was, the king didn’t even spare me a glance as he passed us. Instead, he stopped between two Clawsguards who had cleared a space for the king.
“Bring out the prisoners,” he bellowed with no preamble.
My lips parted. The rebels were already being executed?
“What happened to the idea of a trial?” I whispered to Saga.
Not that the one I’d seen with the White Bear had been much of a trial at all. Still, I was shocked that the king wasn’t putting on a show for his people.
“I don’t know. This is unusua—” A gasp flew from her lips.
Footfalls in the snow sounded and a quartet of soldiers led out the performers from the Royal Theater .
My heart stopped as the guards herded the actors and actresses toward the wall. At my side, Vale grew stiff.
“I spoke to some of them. They’re innocent,” he growled.
I swallowed, studying the performers. Most appeared terrified; trembling and shuffling and some tripping before they made it even halfway across the courtyard. They had to be freezing too, not dressed in anything remotely suitable for the outdoors.
“Father, you can’t.” Vale broke from the line of people.
Few appeared surprised. And Rhistel, nestled between two Clawsguards farther down the line of people, smirked. I was sure he wanted their father to blow up at Vale.
Would he?
“Stand back, Prince Vale,” the King of Winter retorted as he pushed Vale back with a gale of icy air. Then, as the king had done in the throne room when he whipped Sir Qildor, ice formed on Vale’s boots and crawled up his legs. Frost formed on his lips, silencing him.
“No,” I whispered. No matter how disgusted I was with myself, no matter how much distance I wanted to put between us, that pull, that reaction to be with him and help him, was still there. As instinctual as breathing.
I took a step, only to be stopped by Saga grabbing my arm and pulling me back in line. “My father will do it to you too. Vale’s not hurt. Believe me, he’s endured much more, and besides, you can’t help him. Or them.” Tears fell down her cheeks, dripping off before freezing on the ground .
Her blue eyes were stuck on Avalina, standing at the forefront of the performers, now all lined up and waiting. The actress Saga admired looked so proud, so brave and resolute.
“These fae were present and complicit in the attack on the Royal Theater.” The king’s voice boomed, silencing anyone who dared to so much as whisper. “They are, by extension, rebels, and I sentence them to death.”
“I had no idea that the attack was to happen!” one, a brownie in a thin, filthy shirt, cried out. “Many of us weren’t involved!”
“They weren’t!” Avalina screamed in agreement and gestured wildly to those she stood with. “But I was. I let them in. I concocted the whole plan.” She lifted her chin in defiance and glared at the king. “So if you want to kill someone, kill me. Punish me. Make an example of me . But spare them.”
A low rumble left King Magnus’s throat, sinking my stomach. Avalina had signed the death warrants of those around her.
I braced myself seconds before the king called his magic, freezing each performer to the ground. Like with Vale, ice climbed up their feet, their legs, stopping at their hips. The cold power spiked in the air, and unlike the first time he’d used it, inside me .
I startled and looked around. No one else seemed to have had such a reaction. I swallowed. Yet more proof that I was who the castle said, who Emilia said, who Prince Calder said.
The winter magic soared above us, a whirlwind of frost forming into icicles. The performers cried out, and everyone heard because unlike when he’d silenced his son, the king hadn’t done so to the rebels. He wanted them to scream. Wanted us to hear it.
Inside, my blood pounded as what the king was about to do became clear, as the very power he wielded affected me in a way I didn’t foresee. It flowed through me, awakening something inside me that begged to be let out. To save them.
But before I could so much as breathe, the king’s icicles spun in the air, their tips pointing at the performers.
“I will spare no one who questions my reign,” King Magnus growled before he sent the icicles soaring at the performers. “I will punish those who act against me. As I punish those who do not come forward and inform on betrayal in the kingdom.”
The weapons hit their marks. Blood sprayed upon the snow. Fae screamed, both those being murdered and those in the crowd.
At my side, Saga wept, and I dimly recalled that she possessed winter magic. Did she feel what I’d felt? Or did she weep for those killed?
The king turned to the crowd, his eyes blazing with fury as he pointed to the line of dead or dying fae.
“No one will build a boat for them to sail into the afterworld, for they will not be allowed our Sigling ritual. They have showered dishonor on themselves. On their families.”
Some gasped, but the king barreled on, uncaring, hard as ice .
“Their bodies will be tossed into the sea, weighed down by rocks.” He spared the performers one last smug look before marching out of the courtyard, hurling one last line over his shoulder as he went. “They will not drink from bottomless horns nor dine in the starry halls of the afterworld. They will never find peace, not even in death. Remember that before you consider acting against the House of Aaberg.”