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It’s about our freedom.
Our kingdoms as much as our own.
And if the price for that freedom is the Winter Queen’s slender neck, then so be it.
I won’t shed a tear for her.
She sure as fuck never shed one for me.
And after everything the north has put us through, even if she cried me a river, it wouldn’t be enough.
Not even close.
Chapter 11
Katrina
“What’s taking her so long?” I grumble over to Inessa, whose worried gaze is fixed on my leg that keeps bouncing up and down in irritation.
Aggravated, I force myself to keep still, Inessa’s attention falling away from my restless knee and back on me.
“These things take time, Your Highness, but I assure you if there is anyone that can get you the information you require, it will be Anya,” she states confidently.
“Hmm, she better,” I mutter under my breath, Inessa’s self-assured expression slipping away at the silent warning in my tone.
Unfortunately for my handmaiden, I don’t have the energy or the will to comfort her. She should know me better by now that I’m not going to do anything to her friend even if she is unsuccessful in her mission.
If the gods be good, then Anyawillreturn to me with the intel I crave. But if by chance they are not, and Anya is unable to obtain the information I so desire, then sadly there isn’t much I can do about it, save for licking my wounded pride.
Argh.
How dare anyone send a rider to our camp and not have the decency to acknowledge my presence in this train and write to me, their queen?
Maybe I’m being paranoid.
Maybe the letter is nothing to worry about.
Maybe it came from his people in Arkøya, making sure that their king is up to date with what’s happening in his kingdom and the preparations that are being done for our arrival.
But what if it’s not?
What if its contents prove that Levi is in cahoots with the other kings? Proof of their elaborate plan to dethrone me, written in ink for all to bear witness to?
Even if that were to be the case, what could I do with that piece of information?
Would the people of Aikyam revolt if they had proof that these traitorous kings sought to steal my crown from me, or would they rejoice in the knowledge that my reign was in peril?
All I have are questions, and very little answers.
And one question surpasses them all—why?
What happened for them to hate me so? What did I ever do that was so wrong to make them behave this way? To make them feel that I was unworthy of my title? Not once did I even consider strippingthemof their birthright. So why is it so easy for these men to plot away my demise?
Questions.
Questions.
Questions.
