Chapter 7
seven
“That can’t be right, you have no horns.”
Instead of grimacing, he tipped his head back and laughed. A sly grin slid across his face. “I might have one.”
My cheeks heated dreadfully, and I recoiled trying to hide them beneath the blanket.
He couldn’t be the monster I was warned about. Besides his pointed ears, nothing about him was abnormal. But the way he looked me over stoked fear in my veins—along with something deeper and warmer. Strangely familiar and yet the name slipped from my grasp like sand through fingers.
The grin dropped. “You should rest while you have the brief chance.” He stood and walked to the small kitchen at the back. “You are correct that I should have let you die, accursed human. Were I in my right mind, I might have. But as a frozen corpse, you’re useless to us.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. He wasn’t going to have his way with me, I’d sooner rip that knife out of his hand and shove it into his stomach.
But he circled me and bent low, placing the blade at my neck. “You now owe me a favor, Ms.…” he trailed off and waited.
I bit my lip. He wanted a name, and I was too aware he wouldn’t remove the blade without one.
But admitting I’m a princess from the other kingdom over, the accursed humans wouldn’t do me any favors.
He might be angry enough to kill me, name or not.
Now wouldn’t be the time to die, after I’d already signed away my father’s life to avoid a beheading.
But he wouldn’t know who Lorelana is, right? Across the river, he should not know the nobles and royalty of Ilyatria.
I cleared my throat. “Lorelana. And who do I have the pleasure—” My gaze flicked down to the knife. “—of being threatened by?”
“Aelendir, but make no mistake. This isn’t a threat, but a promise. You owe me when you’re no longer on death’s door.”
“Why not kill me now?”
“Dead hands do not work,” he replied and removed the blade from my throat. “And should you not rest, that is what you’ll be. Useless.” He walked to the back and tossed another blanket over me. “Bed’s in the back.”
I wrenched myself from the chair but immediately crumpled to my weak knees.
He rushed to my side, knocking over the chair in the process. “By the stars, you’re like a newborn fawn.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue, but that didn’t stop him from throwing the blanket over my shoulders and tightening it around my neck.
For some reason, my gaze kept getting drawn to his hypnotic stare. “You have deer?” I mumbled, my body already trembling, and he tightened the blanket further.
“We have forests,” he said and wrapped his hands beneath me, but as soon as his skin grazed mine, electricity shot up, trailing up into my chest where it bloomed.
He retracted his hand, staring at my skin as if it offended him.
He swallowed before gripping my forearm.
A buzz lingered beneath his fingers that made my hair rise.
“It appears you’re carrying a pact. How droll.
” The rune flashed across the back of my hand, bright enough to make my heart skip a beat.
“Did you want to talk about it?” I asked and tried to stifle my shakes.
But he scooped me up, droplets from my drenched gown painting the floorboards.
He hurried into a darkened room where a pale beam illuminated a dusty, untouched bed.
“We’ll discuss it by first light. For if you do not rest,” he dropped me to the mattress in a heap.
“There will be nothing to discuss. The dead do not speak.”
I wanted to protest, but he bolted before I could, lingering in the threshold.
“Wait—”
“I recommend you strip yourself of your drenched clothes before you succumb to the cold. It’s relentless.”
With a flick of his hand, the mist hanging over the dusty hearth cleared and roared to life. It brought heat, but barely any light to color the room in warm tones. After he laid his knife on the table. “You’ll need this to cut those rags away.”
With that, he left, and only reappeared briefly to drop a pile of fresh clothes on the same table without bothering to duck his head in. The door clicked shut, and I was alone.
The room had the same familiar scent when he left, making my heart long for something.
A memory I couldn’t quite reach, and the further I searched, the quicker it darted to the corners of my mind.
I brushed it away and, as instructed, slowly tore my gown away.
The cold nestled in as I cut, but shed the biting that would take my limbs.
Something behind my breastbone stirred, and I grazed it with my palm, but all I could focus on was my thrumming heart.
Once the drenched clothes were in a wan corner, I turned to the fresh ones, only briefly clucking my tongue at them.
A court shirt and riding pants, clothes meant for servants and men.
I made a note to discuss proper attire in the morning, but wrapped myself in the thick linen, reveling in the dry warmth.
I never thought I’d be so grateful for clean peasant clothing. With my adrenaline gone, the ache overtook me and pounded deep into my bones. But I pushed it aside and peered out the lone pane. The glass misted with my breath, and the sight stole it from my lungs.
Snowflakes fell, gathering on the small ledge, and beyond that was a thick forest. Barren frosted trees bent and bowed.
Dark and knobby with thick trunks, their gnarled roots twisted through the snow banks.
But even with the shed trees, a handful boasted bright greenery, stark among the drab colors of winter.
None of the trees in Ilyatria’s orchards were similar to these, including the birch we chopped for firewood. I’d never seen emerald leaves in midwinter—not to mention, it should be summer.
I abandoned the frosted glass and retreated beneath the covers. The light was rapidly fading, and soon I’d face tomorrow’s reality. That my savior and captor would come to collect.
The night was long and, despite my unyielding ache, sleeping proved difficult. By the time I drifted off, the fireplace had shrunk to glowing embers.
A shriek of the wind awoke me with a start. The room’s shadows grew, then rapidly swam to the corners. I sucked in a breath and didn’t fight the tightness that formed in my chest.
Once I was certain the shadows were still, I released it. As I emerged from the downy mattress, the fresh pair of boots awaiting me made me shudder.
He’d been in here while I slept.
As soon as my feet grazed the chilly floorboards, pain shot across the back of my hand, red and angry. My gut groaned and rolled in response. I’d failed to kill my father, but the pact was still there. I could only imagine that was the cause of my newfound stomachache.
My problem was two-fold—I had to find some way across the gorge.
More than that, I needed power to kill the king.
I didn’t know what happened to him, and I wasn’t certain I ever would.
Whatever he was, it was unnatural, and if I jumped across that gorge now, he’d likely slaughter me this time.
It didn’t matter that I’d escaped death more times than I had fingers.
When I returned to take his head, I’d need to be ready and have a powerful weapon.
While I dealt with my captor, I’d have to find that.
But when I looked across the room, I groaned.
The I’phri had left clothes, too. I begrudgingly pulled them on before heading out.
These were different, riding armors, made of thick leather, and nearly identical to his clothes.
But while I dressed, my gaze lingered on the lone knife.
Without too much thought, I slipped it beneath the down mattress, with a few feathers escaping.
Who knew when I might need it? I couldn’t use a bow or a blade, but no such training was necessary for a knife.
That was how I managed to maim an Underquarter Knight.
Knife fights were common in the Gelded Eye, and I had on more than one occasion permanently mangled someone after an unwanted touch.
They screamed and cursed of course, and palms bled like a bitch, but they’d quiet when I threatened to press it to their throats.
Unfortunate the Knights didn’t have the same reaction.
After a long silence of staring at the downy mattress, I grabbed the knife and slipped it into my back pocket.
My trousers were a mess of belts, pockets, and other buttoned compartments, but I chose the one I’d grab reflexively.
I still had no idea what the I’phri was capable of, and I knew for certain he was lying. That much was unquestionable.
I kept the quilt tightly wrapped around my shoulders, only to grimace as soon as I entered the long entrance room. It fell to my feet, along with my patience.
Aelendir was waiting, reclining against the panels. “Did you sleep well?”
The question made me jump, and all my insults jumbled in my stomach. Why did he care? Only last night, he’d threatened my life.
“I slept… fine.”
The skepticism mulled on his lips, but he stepped toward the kitchen and pointed to the great, boiling cauldron. “Eat. Then join me outside. Frostproof clothes are on the chaise.” His forefinger tapped on the threshold briefly. “We have much to discuss.”
I followed his instructions, but not without muttering a few curses. I’d come this far, there was no need to start fighting now. Not when he was providing food, and I had a weapon strapped to my side.
Breakfast was a fruit and nut porridge that tasted of moss and unusual spices that tingled on my lips. Close to cinnamon, but sweeter. They must not have sat well on my stomach, though, because it turned uneasily as I examined the cloak he’d left.
The brocade sparkled beneath my fingers and was just as unusual as the soup. My guts knotted. I’d spent my life escaping the monotony of the crown, only to ache for the familiar boringness.