Page 29 of Winter Gods & Serpents

He felt familiar and strangely sincere. It is the eyes, Alaric always says, if they go soft and mellow, if they stare with force of cotton, the window of sincerity is open, it will just poor out. Alaric was into his riddles and wise words, but this one I’d always relied on. I felt bad for a moment, or perhaps I was reminded of my own situation.

“Another time Elias, truly let me know why you wish for these moments alone. With your permission,” I said turning to leave.

“Is this permission to ask for more of your time?”

I waved a hand over my shoulder. “Yes, but don’t waste your luck with me. Goddess of luck is not my friend, I owe that bitch too many favours already, you will get on her bad side too.” I wanted to know if he was looking at me as prey, ally or enemy.

* * *

Oars and galleys, kingdoms, kings, and pawns. Less than four moons I’d be married to the king of Adriata. My plans ran on borrowed time and it began counting down now.

I staked along the corridors in my most elegant blush rose dress and entered the large meeting room in the northern tower. Empty, except a long table in its middle with maps, books and papers scattered atop. The red tinted glass ceiling casted a red shadow in the room and dropped a hopelessness atmosphere of doom. Lords, the three generals, captains and the Bruma Commander of the Verglaser legions all sat around the large wooden table, deep in discussion. Winter court was weaved by King Edric, the first king of old Isea and held to this day. Isjord was rough land, mountain, and snow whilst the largest kingdom. He’d dissected the land in nine cities and appointed a lord for each to rule as viceroy in his stead and under his rule. Despite the land being all bloodlines and ancestry, a lord was carefully allected to duty; scholars, merchant, generals, captains, priests and even healers sat on that post. Once appointed, it would take death or scandal to dethrone you from such position, the king had no power over it; a rule that Edric carefully planned to prevent his successors from bringing ruin to the land and it had worked. Lord Albius Arynth once was a captain on my great-grandfather’s army, after the previous lord had died he’d been promoted to the role, but Albius had no heir and that meant that Arynth would go to someone appointed by my father. Those with a male heir or an unmarried daughter would automatically be able to pass it through to their child. Though any had yet to inherit their city to their children, many still held onto their post since my grandfather’s rule.

All stood and bowed through surprised glances and confused murmurs amongst each other. I stifled at Renick’s sight—he had been the one training Aura out of myself and siblings. My head filled with all the lashing and beating I had received from him when I could not even bear the cold let alone produce it. Olympian scum, he used to call us. His favourite torture always remained the simplest yet cruellest; leaving us out in the cold for hours to days after he had found out we didn’t have the tolerance of the cold like all other Isjordians. I suppose we were not all other Isjordians. My blood boiled at the thought, but a few coils twisted and knotted in my stomach at the remembrance of old fear. Everyone turned at my approach and bowed their heads surprised at my presence except him.

As if he could sense my thoughts and panic, he gave me a vile smile.

“Snow?” Sam called from a corner of the room almost startling me. “Your father will not be happy about this, you know that?”

I cleared my throat of all bitter memory. “Well, he is a miserable man Sam and his emotional affairs have never been of my concern,” I said, throwing my hand in the air in disregard. Not a single lie spoken, my sincerity was applaudable.

“Alaric would kill me if he knew I’d let you do this.”

I leaned close to is ear and whispered. “It was his idea.” I straightened and threw glances of the half full room. “So much sandalwood, sweat, loose balls and unfathomable ego all in one place. Where is that horned eudemon, Lady of Grasmere? She is the one missing the loose balls and the only one with loose tits.” The hellhound of winter hells, one worse than all of those gathered in this room.

Sam suppressed a laugh beside me and shook silently in amusement. “The sealine cities gather a different day.”

“I imagine on a Sunday; they bring my father most riches I bet he pick Sunday to be his happy day.”

He stilled, eyes wide in surprise. “How did you know?”

“No one knows that tyrant you call your king better than I, unfortunately.”

We took seats next to one another and moments later my father marched in, lost in deep thoughts to take notice of me. It wasn’t till he sat in his seat when his head flew once and then twice in surprise in my direction.

“Was it the dress? Definitely the dress gave me away,” I said, giving him my most saccharine smile.

My father leaned back in his seat and nodded. “Very well then, you will join us. After all, you are a royal.”

I scoffed for a better reaction. He did like spinning the tales to his favour.

The four eastern city lords reported their weekly incomes, taxes, and latest produce to be shipped out to Grasmere and Brisk for trade to the other kingdoms. Lord of Kirkwall was particularly mouthy, expressing his displeasure and concern for the shipping’s not being received in timely manners from Eldmoor. Sanctimonious bastards surely had been outside their borders to see how the rest of the continent lived compared to these stuffed turkeys sat across me.

“Come now,” I interrupted, attention all towards me. “You need not ruffle your feathers for a mere day’s delay, not every traveller is accustomed to travel through your lands snow knee thick. Such delays are to be expected and we are nearing winter season, I hope you are aware, dear Lord?” I asked, batting my eyelashes leaning back in my chair. The generals, captains and the other officials chuckled under their breath and few gasped before my father interrupted clearing his throat.

“You’re so versed in running a city maybe you should take our position,” Kalius Modr said snidely, flinging his papers to the table crossing his arms in an indignant expression.

He was just like Freja had said: the first to be riled by my presence and mouth.

“Maybe, but it’s too minuscule of a position for me, your small head could do a fine job had your pride not grasped your balls tight enough you’ve gone red. Oh wait, that must be the whiskey.”

“You’re not careful in your offences, young lady.”

“No, I’m not Lord, but I did lower to your standards. If you didn’t wish me to offend you maybe you should have not offended me. Remember, it is still Your Highness to you, not young lady. Offending a royal, what is that father, twenty lashes?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

The Lord swallowed and bowed just slightly. “Apologies, Your Highness, I meant no offence.” Not an ounce of apology but tight irritated features.

“I limit myself to one good deed a day, call it already spent,” I warned souring down to irked.