Page 160 of Winter Gods & Serpents

I turned to Kilian who stood still by the door, his features shaped worrisome as if he knew what brewed in my head. “I need you to come here,” I called, signalling him with my hand.

He uncrossed his arms and stared at me in hesitation. Before he could question, tire me out and make me lose my golden opportunity, I urged him by fanning my hand impatiently. Taking careful steps around my mother’s room, he approached me. “How will you use me today?”

I pointed down the window. “Lower me down there, with your shadows or whatever.”

He examined the soldiers marching down the castle grounds before his jaw tensed and flexed in anger. “No,” he answered abruptly in Kilian style.

I gripped his arm, pulling him to me. Despite the frustrating closeness I managed to gather my words. “Put me down or I will actually take my chances and jump. You can still use me with broken limbs, right?”

His head dropped back in surrender. “Do you have a vault of threats stashed away for each occasion?”

A smile of satisfaction graced my features. “I have a few other methods as well besides threats. However, we’d be stuck here, and I would miss the soldiers” I said, patting my palm in his chest before turning towards the window again, trying not to lose sight of the secretive bunch.

“You live to exasperate me,” he groaned annoyed, before wrapping an arm around my waist, so large it spanned over nearly the whole of it. His body almost melted to mine; I even felt the tendons of muscle stretch over my own. One moment we were up in the air and then swiftly landing down on the cold ground. Shoes, again I’d left them in my room. If he saw, I’d earn another mouthful. Unknowingly, I’d gripped his arm tight enough to cut circulation. I flinched away from him the moment we had landed on the ground.

“Clawing away like a vixen too.” He gently shook his arm as if I really hurt him.

“For what I said before—” The apology frozen and stuck on my tongue.

“You said nothing,” he spoke, interrupting me, “nothing that wasn’t true.”

Nightmare, you are my nightmare. Except that I wasn’t sure if he was.

I said nothing and charged ahead towards the Verglaser soldiers. Strangely, their boots and part of their white uniforms was dipped in mud. You could not see the ground in Isjord let alone step on mud. Silently approaching them my eyes narrowed atop the wooden chest. A crafters halo seal laid on the lid to protect whoever wanted to reach inside it, but that was not what had caught my attention. Solaryan sun crest metal ridges decorated it. What had the Solaryans sent my father that he had to gather a squadron of Aura and enlist a dark crafter to protect it. Had the sun islanders not halted all deals with my father, was it another threat?

Just as I took another step closer behind them, a bright luminescent shield halo popped affront me, seven runes of seven hells spun round fuelling it with magic. Kilian swiftly grabbed my arm, pulling me back from hitting the surface. I’d become ash at the touch of it.

He gathered me close, scent of magic surrounding him. One moment it was there and then waned, like faint of fireflies. “Fuck, I cannot fade us out,” he said given up.

“Well, sweet manners, language,” I scolded playfully as he tensioned observing the bunch of soldiers.

“So not the time for jokes.”

“So no need for fear either, Kilian darling.” Did he forget I was these people’s princess, and this was technically my home and I was not exactly sneaking around.

His eyes dropped to me, cast in dark shadows. “Don’t do that to me woman, not now, not when I can’t enjoy it.” It threw my pulse in a gallop and I stared at him long and hard, I didn’t dare ask, I didn’t dare say anything—I had nothing to say.

He pulled onto my arm and almost onto his embrace, as if he was thinking of using his body for a shield. The soldiers halted ahead of us, parting for the hooded figure to pass through. The craft shield dispersed, and the disguised figure affront pulled the hood down to reveal their face.

“Your father did mention you were back and still curious as ever,” a soft woman’s voice said in a grin. One I’d heard many times before.

What the inappropriate word Kilian said a second ago was going on? Dead or still dreaming? Melanthe, my father’s crafter. The same as I remembered her from years ago, short unnaturally bright wine-red hair that fell to her chin, her almost pearlescent skin glowed as if moonlight reflected it, her eyes the same washed sage, except now a pale rosy scar stretched contrasting across her neck and another one on her forehead. She was alive, how had she escaped death and why had father allowed her back? Was she sneaking in? But there were Isjordian soldiers around her and no one escaped unseen under my father’s eye, especially in castle grounds. That only meant he had enlisted her in whatever his dirty works were, once again I suppose.

“I see even death fears the wicked, or is my mind playing games from staying too long in this graveyard of a land, and you are truly dead because you definitely were last time I saw you.” I said surveying the sight of her.

Her shoulders shook with laughter and she rose a hand to her mouth, demurely hiding her smile. More gnarly slashes and marks stretched across her hands, deep, almost tearing onto the bone. What on Nubil’s heaven had happened to her and how the heavens was she alive? I remember her head dangling onto the rope and her softened limbs surrendered while her soul parted from her body.

“Go little girl, you should not be playing on this side of the castle anyway,” she huffed, flinging her hand towards me as if I were a dog.

“I fear the one who should be playing with dead spirits on the otherworld has no say on what I do. What are you doing here, Melanthe?” I pushed.

Her face turned unforgiving. The red head did take offences very bitter. I remember her pride took most of her character, if a dead woman could even have one. “I am afraid it’s private court issues little Princess, now leave before I make your father aware of your whereabouts.”

I erupted in giggles. “As terrifying as that might sound to many, go ahead, do that. I want a peek inside that pretty little chest first,” I said, taking a step forward. Kilian’s hand still wrapped tight around my wrist not letting go of me. I slid my arm up joining our palms together. If he wanted to hold me it didn't have to hurt my poor wrists. I bit my lip and cringed remembering I wore no gloves, and all my marks were rubbing onto his strangely warm hands.

Melanthe balled her fists and crossed them forward, her magic floating in red beams from her hands. “I have order to use it on anyone and there was no ‘spare the princess’ rule when your father asked me of that,” she spat in threat.

I took the dare and stepped forward. She could not possibly be allowed to hurt me. Proving me wrong, she sent a bolt of red towards me. Before it hit us, I felt scent of magic sizzling in the air, released, coating and prickling my skin as Kilian lifted a black wall of mist catching the first hit, enshrouding us inside. The clash sent wind shaking, our surroundings and snow shifted violently in the air. He had channelled so much magic I had felt its tentacles blanket all around us too. Not just shadows, something else too, warm around us, I could not understand what.