Page 228 of Winter Gods & Serpents

“And I am king.”

“You are, maybe eternal but not immortal and do you know, father, what they say when the king is dead?” My brows sketched up. “Long live the queen.”

He begun laughing roughly as a grin stretched wide in his wicked mouth. “You will be no queen.”

“No—no, I’ll never be.” He was right, I will not be queen. “I am ruin and therefore I will ruin you.”

“Good luck, my rose.”

“It doesn’t take luck to melt ice, just fire.”

“You were to be my heir,” he called again, and I halted once more. The deception of rue in his voice willed me still, though I didn’t wish to hear what he meant to use to trick me into loss. “I chose you. I thought you should know. Even Eren had given up the moment you were born. I’d never imagined my son to be born weak and caring. You never broke, never tore, barely felt, you were my perfect choice. Had I some more years before that attack, I would have shaped you into a ruler. You would have been might.”

“I could not rule your kingdom, father,” I said, my voice fading on the echo of the corridors. “This was always his, your only heir. Might is overestimated and you always underestimated care. You will learn too, once you’re under a boot what will save you, others care or your might.”

* * *

Our caravan had grown massive and new faces circled all around me, father had permissioned my soldiers to serve and escort me one last time. Isjordians lined the streets, their expressions weary, cold, and afraid. They had to be, Adriata would soon loom freely around the continent once again.

Uncle rode ahead leading the group, Nia, Cai and Mal all around me, Kilian not to be seen amongst our large travelling arrangements.

“Mal, what of your brother?” I was slightly worried. Our conversation from last time had been cut at start. I still had something to ask of him and in the Islines he had also wanted to say something to me.

“He will be riding at the back, you know he worries a lot during these times, important times,” he added with a light laugh.

Panic rose to my throat, tasting regret. I had not said my goodbye. I had not seen him one last time. I shouldn’t have slept, I should have milked that night and just stared at him till I was sure I couldn’t forget him.

“You are being odd and so is that fool, what is happening?”

“Nothing…nothing is happening, but I am glad you two are inseparable now.”

When the air grew warm and light, immediately I realized that we’d approached south, our caravan had direct orders not to stop for rest anywhere along the lands of Isjord, let alone Adriata.

My eyes rolled back when uncle started riding towards me, my head was in no position to stand his banter. I was already jittery and angsty enough without his vile words, which I was sure he was about to give plentiful to me, judging the slyness his features had taken.

“I was the one who took your mother from Olympia, now I am sending you off. It feels almost prophetic, don’t you think, sweet niece?” he exclaimed. “Not quite sure about Adriata but Olympia was magnificent, to my luck I got to see it before it perished.”

“It still is, and you mean before you made it perish,” I responded coldly.

“You mean what is still left of it. You do not understand, that kingdom with that power should have not existed among our own, it was not natural. Everyone had grown uneasy around them and were living in fear. What if a cruel king had taken over and ordered all of our extinction. Believe me, they had the power to do that. Your uncles were not Jonah, they were young and full of desire for power,” he added, with a fading amusement. I knew he did not like talking about Olympia, Alaric had told me he was terrified of them.

My uncle, Leren, who was to take throne of Olympia, had been wise and fair. Alaric would say that my brother had taken every inch of his personality. He would have been a great ruler, just like my grandfather Jonah was, like many before him had been. The only one uneasy had been my power-hungry father, no one else. Olympia had always been passive in wars, that was why their kind was happy and glooming in immense power. Their relationships with the other kingdoms were almost non-existent, they barely left their borders, their god had blessed them with lands beyond productive, mountains to mine and living stock to boast. They had been artisans and forgers, extremely skilled manual workers, a kingdom completed, till my father wanted it all for himself and ended up with nothing.

“My, my, it reminds me of a particular someone. It feels almost prophetic, doesn’t it, sweet uncle?” I replied in a snide tone, and his amusement had now faded to nothing but displeasure.

Uncle had always been second player in every game of the kingdom, he had always come second, he was also a royal just like my father and aunt Eleonor, but he had little to silly power over Isjord. However, despite all he was always an avid supporter of my father, they had a good age difference, so he saw my father more as a father than a brother. Also, given how absent my grandfather had been painted in their lives their bond had grown closer. They both equally despised the dead old serpent.

He had hated my mother more than all the rest, his support for Moreen and her half breed evident at all time, but his dislike for my mother had not been as the masses. His eyes always told on him, how he watched her from the distance, how he traced her every feature, how he disliked me and my siblings. Alaric told me my mother had been promised to him instead of my father, a deal arranged by threats of war, forced to be threaded to prevent it. My grandfather had accepted as had my mother, both had been willing to spare their people the pain of war. Their betrothal would have been blessed by all kingdoms and by gods, an Aura and a human. They had met several times before my father brilliantly revealed his true orchestrated plan to steal uncle’s bride as his. I saw it every time, Aryan hated my mother because he had been in love with her since the moment they had met, his eyes longing but filled with fury, one misdirected at her, one that should have been for my father.

Despite all this, the man gave me the creeps, something about him was rottener than the rest, it was as if he would wither flowers at his touch. His energy had always been dark and wrong, him I distrusted most out of all, another cursed version of my father, another monster of his doing I suppose.

The Highwall grew tall and long ahead, the gruesome giant was as fierce as the first time I had seen it, Kilian was still silent at the back of our caravan and my concern was growing rapidly. The back of my neck had taken a dull pain at how many times it had turned to look for him, back and forth.

“He is fine, you can’t start to miss him this soon, you would be in for torture if you do,” Nia said, putting a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to reality.

I did miss him, and it was unusual for him to be this far from my sight, he never let me out of his and…my goodbye. Would I not get my goodbye?

“Snow,” Nia called half-heartedly. “I found something else too, between Moreens safe.” I blinked in anticipation as she handed me a stack of lavender envelopes, the crest of Adriata stamped atop.