Page 137 of Winter Gods & Serpents

“Three lords, Snow,” I said, and her attention snapped to me. “What are you attempting?” I knew what she was attempting. Lords on her side, intercepting and ruining her father's plans, digging for friction between kingdoms that she could leverage to lure court against Silas. She wanted Isjord. To destroy or to rule I could not comprehend.

“What does it look like to you?”

“Reckless,” I said. “What do you intend to do once every lord is on your side? Take Isjord?” The question sounded ridiculous spoken out loud.

She shrugged. “Perhaps. Will you stop me?”

“If it affects the agreement I will.”

She pouted and shook her head. “It won’t.”

“Your revenge?”

“No, a blood bargain.”

I frowned. “What blood bargain?” No one entered those death traps anymore no matter the price, the fragility of that magic was too costly if not fulfilled to its most extent detail of request.

She rose a brow. “You honestly thought my father would have me agree to marrying the man I’ve sworn to kill? Come now darling, I thought you would have already known I’m not the most obedient character out there. I made a bargain, Kilian. One I cannot lose. This agreement for Myrdur.”

Of course there had been an exchange. I’d wondered too what had her convinced, considering she could have not only escaped but refused to. But a blood bargain? The more I thought about it, the more I understood. She felt responsible for Myrdur, Nia had said before. For her to enter that bargain it meant that Myrdur was beyond precious to her.

“So, you will honour the agreement, receive Myrdur, marry the King and what next? Overthrow your father?”

“Oh no, not overthrow,” she said, leaning in the table again. “Snatch Isjord from his hands. Stab his favourite child.”

“Destroy Isjord?”

She threw me a wink. “Right there.”

“Snow—”

She let out a sigh, leaning back on the chair. “Of course, Kilian style, I will get the moral lecture of it.”

“There was no moral lecture but the concern of danger you are dragging yourself to.”

“I have you, don’t I?” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “Lifting shadow walls, telling liars, figuring out truths, offering your life for me, moral support of the pretty face.”

I resisted the urge to fall for the trap she set to forgo the conversation by stating a truth. “I have hurt you more than I have protected you.”

She shook her head. “You have not hurt me. I have to feel to hurt.”

“Hate is a strong emotion.”

“Yes, but it is not a hurting one. More of the nurturing sort, don’t you recon,” she teased, slyly giving me a wink.

“Is that why you have emptied yourself of any, because you don’t wish to hurt?”

Annoyed I’d forgone every snare, she leaned back in her rest. “I have not emptied anything. They just…left me.”

Left her. Forced or willingly?

She swallowed, eyes bobbing back and forth to me and then around the room. “You are staring, enough of it.”

“Am I being denied to look at you?”

“Yes.” Her voice meek, somewhere between uncertainty and unwillingness of the mouth to obey the brain.

I smiled. “I don’t think I have heard you this torn before.”