Page 9 of Season Warriors & Wolves

“What a grace. To be fetched by the hand of the king himself.”

He reached me and pulled hard on my arm. His hand sunk in my hair and tugged hard. “I know you are well capable of taking a trained beast even chained.”

“You flatter me. Severely.”

His luminescent eyes dropped to my hand on his chest, shaking as it curled right over his heart. “Don’t you think it is time to mourn your losses and move on?”

“What losses?” I asked, reaching even closer to him. “I’ve lost nothing. You took from me.” The choking heat around us suddenly turned dull and sharp like the cold radiating from the winter outside. I shook from the unusual strength I conjured to hold back from tearing him apart.

He sucked in a short breath and choked on a sputter of blood when enough ice grew on my fingertips to pluck his heart out of his chest. Taste of blood filled my mouth from the resistance of my magic against Melanthe’s, but I would do it again. And again. Till I was satisfied.

I wiped the blood gushing down my nose and mouth with the back of my glove and spat the rest to the ground. “Pitiful. Such pity I feel for you, sailor boy,” I said, dropping the warm organ to the floor and cleaning my hand on his jacket. Not enough. Not enough at all. “Shall we? I’d hate to be late to my own celebrations.”

The crowd was unusually small for what my father considered a celebration, especially what I would think the naming of his heir would look like. But none mattered when father intended this news to reach beyond mountains and possibly seas.

I was sure the looks directed at me were not because of how fabulous the navy attire fit my body and how it made my eyes stand out, or the old and heavy jewellery that only queens had worn before me, nor at the chains tied to my limbs that rattled with every step I took—though I was sure Melanthe had cast some sort of veil or glamour to conceal them, wouldn’t want the brand new Crown Princess chained. Certainly, they were not staring at me because I had lost half of my weight or that for the first time, I was unable to conceal my hatred from my features and my muscles had strung so tight from anger and grief that I looked like I’d gone half mad. Certainly, those were not it. Because there was caution in their perusal. There was hesitation in their gestures or the way they breathed, like they were holding half a breath as if I were to suddenly take it.

They now knew what I was.

They knew of my power.

They knew I’d resided amongst them; I’d hidden amongst them.

They knew they had brushed danger, stared at danger, laughed at danger, played with danger and had never even realised.

Father had not wasted a moment to brag about his creation. Probably stirred much more into that pot of lies only to sharpen the taste of his power.

“Come, child,” father’s voice boomed around the quiet hall when he extended a hand towards me from the height of his dais.

Noise slowly began returning among the room when I climbed the gilded stairs to my father and sat beside him, where Eren had once sat.

Silence fell again when father raised a hand and announced, “I thank you for joining us today.” He rested a hand on my arm, and I fought a flinch. “As you know, since the passing of my son, the crown suffered a great loss. I lost a child and Isjord lost their heir.”

A little giggle escaped me, and father shot me a deathly look before continuing, “It has been a long mourning time and it has been a long time since the position of my heir has stood empty. And empty it will no longer be. Snowlin will take my crown one day, as my blood and as my chosen heir.” He squeezed my arm as if he knew I was a moment away from bursting out a laugh.

The room gasped, their attention all raising to me. Few were mad among the fearful. Mad as in upset. Which consequently made me irked. Isjordians and their audacity truly were a case to be studied.

“What about her marriage to the Night King?” one asked.

It was like I’d been thrown into a fire at the mention of his name and the world melted around me. If I dared think of him—the world would burn with everyone in it and I would have no care. But the world couldn't burn anymore, not when it held so many others that I loved, so I didn’t think of him at all.

“A sham,” father lied, making my attention snap to him. “We have been planning to study the nightlands for a while after what happened thirteen years ago. My daughter agreed to help in those endeavours as she was the most affected by them. She was willing to risk herself for what they did.”

I shot my father an amused look. Really? Is that what we are going with now?

“And she did well,” he continued while holding my stare. There were cruel intentions behind the eyes that I’d inherited. “We learned more than a lot. Of their plans of war amongst many things.” He glanced at my gloved hand, where beneath laid the mark of love—the mark my father intended to use against Kilian—and he smiled.

Another round of gasps.

His new court stood silent, observing the reactions of the rich that held Isjord together, as they were being lied through their bones.

Father needed their support, needed their riches to fund his armies, needed their reach through the realm. He was not only using me as bait for rumours and challenge of his crown, he was also using me as a bargaining pawn for their unconditional help.

However, I needed them, too.

“It is true,” I said loudly, sitting up straight in my seat and father’s grip on his chair arms turned deadly. “All that father said. We’ve been working on it for years. In fact, for a decade.”

“Though I believe that to be the truth, Your Highness, there are other matters,” a man said, refusing to look at me. “Your father is a man of tradition, to crown you heir is…for lack of a better word, strange. The future of our kind is bright and so is his reign. He has sired many children and he will sire many more.” He turned to my father. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, when were you to make us aware of these plans? We have been feeding gold and young children to your armies for months now, don’t we deserve a better explanation? Why now? Why her?”