Page 72 of Winter Gods & Serpents

Last night Lord of Modr was announced dead, the court was in mourning and my father had ordered my presence at the funeral.

If you have any hand on this, child, I will cut your animal in half, he had threatened. He wanted to doubt and blame his death on my hands, but the proof was too bewildering against it. Fishing for cod he’d caught a shark and all his long line of digested colonies of scandal and deceit. In a court of serpents, you will stumble upon a feast of skeletons, and Kalius Modr’s skeletons hid in no closets but a pleasure house.

The sepulchral head stones surrounding us emitted a creep of discomfort, the fall of the snow sending muted dolent tones only drowned by the crowing song of chatter. It was gloomy, cold, weeping women, black lace, pearls, deceitful murmurs and praises of the lord’s blissful living. I hated it, the talk as if they knew him, the praise for a villain made a martyr only because he was dead. That was the thing with death, it was often worn as a badge of honour even from the wicked, mostly by the wicked.

“Can you believe he ordered me to put this on? I look like a chandelier, Nia. Was his sparkly arse not bright enough for this damned funeral?” I said, adjusting the excruciatingly heavy gold and ruby studded crown atop my head.

Dress in proper Isjordian etiquette, it is not a suggestion but an order; those had been his exact words. Pen, bless her heart had tried her best, but the tight corset and the puffed skirts of my black dress were squeezing my existence. If it was left to my devices, I would have worn red, glitter and a smile.

“This bloody corset is rubbing over my breasts, itching as mad and I can barely breathe. Reach up and remove the garter, the lace is scratching my skin,” I said, turning round only to find Kilian standing still, eyes fixed on me.

“Hells,” I startled, almost jumping out of my skin. “Are you a mute, why can’t you say it’s you?” I had forgotten Mal had travelled down to Highwall to his ill mother and I was stuck with this face in daylight too.

A dark brow rose in his absent face, always so present with defiance. “Do I have to make my presence aware aloud every time I approach you, full name, city of birth and title too?” he coldly spoke. “I would have but we are in the middle of a funeral. Still need me to reach for your garter, though not sure what I can do for your itching breasts.”

His defiance, severely entertaining, a challenge I would not forgo but right now murderous thoughts were tickling my itch to hurt someone. Perhaps it was still the bloody lace.

“Your Highness,” a soft voice called approaching me pulling my attention from the bastard.

“Freja—”

Before I could speak, she threw herself over me on a hug almost plummeting me on the ground, weeping and sobbing. A grieving daughter, a freed woman, and tears of happiness.

I patted her shoulder. What did one do in these situations? Surely I wasn’t expected to cry with her. “My condolences, may his soul rest in Hodr.”

She attempted to straighten despite the relentless sniffling.

Kilian handed her a handkerchief—a neatly folded, flower embroidered handkerchief. Did his lover sent him here to guard me with a stash of them? I bet she knit her initials on his sleeve too. I almost laughed.

“His soul rests burning in hells, right where it should be,” Freja hiccupped, blowing her nose on the unfortunate cloth. “The sodden bastard bruised me dry, then sold me to be bruised drier to my husband before killing him then bringing the old bruising back.”

We both snorted at the same time and then smiled before erupting in silent giggles aware of our surroundings.

Her face twisted in a cry before squeezing my hands between hers. “I’m a widow, an orphan and now a Lady, how can I be one? I could not even sit around with my father let alone with those stuffed squealing piglets who complain their wrists are heavy with gold and need a servant to wipe their arse.”

I understood her worry, the only Lady in my father’s court was a eudemon, even she had to grow claws to retain her seat but this one was under my wing, she already had claws.

“I will be there.”

She let out a loud cry and I withheld a grimace, public show of emotion made me itch. “You’re going to leave me, Snowlin.”

I lifted her chin. “And when I do, you are going to be ready to face them on your own. Remember they are only men, the worst they can do is breath.”

She nodded and repeated my words in a murmur before leaving to join the line of mourners by the casket. She was an oar on my boat, I’d make sure she became a sturdy one.

“Profound words,” Kilian said from behind me.

I threw him a glare over my shoulder. “Now he speaks. Where is Nia?”

“Right behind me speaking to a sentry, you are in her sight no need for worry.”

A scowl drew in my brows. “I don’t worry you fool, I need someone to loosen my corset, or your king will receive a lung collapsed corpse, call her down unless you intend on getting handsy with me.”

He blankly stared at me for a few moments as if contemplating my words to be a charming idea, before he went to apprise Nia of my suffocating circumstances.

I did not wish for her to free me of lace as much as I needed her there to free me of disquiet.

She approached looking around before reaching under my dress to loosen the ties. Her face alone banished all sense of apprehension. “Blessed heavens.”