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If he’d come to the village and selected another, everything would have been greatly different. Blood would have poured down the slate slab on the altar, coated his fingers, and dripped from his ice blade, but no. Eirah was the female in his vision, the one who vexed him, and tonight he wouldn’t sacrifice her. He’d devise another plan to buy more time, but this was an infuriating complication he had to sort out prior to ending her life. And then, there would be a true cause to celebrate, for the sacrificial blood would rain down, and the seal would be sated again.
Morozko slid his hand down her spine until it was just above the dip of her backside. He smirked as she tripped over her feet and color rushed into her cheeks, having nothing to do with rage and everything to do with histouch.
He chuckled, spinning her when she hadn’t recovered yet. If she were going to remain silent, so be it. But in turn, he scrutinized her features. If he closed his eyes, he’d be able to see her high cheekbones, sharp nose, and full lips. Since the morning, the vision of her had played in his mind. Her hand reached out to him, the changelings writhing on the ground. But one thing he hadn’t noticed was the lack of malice she’d held. Now, with her in his arms, malice was the only expression on her face. Yet, in his vision, there had been… concern? Perhaps she was looking past him, at someone behind him, and he couldn’t see.
His visions were never clear in the beginning, but one thing he knew for certain—she was the female. There was no mistaking that. But where was the damn magic?
When the music came to an end, he didn’t withdraw right away, but Eirah inched backward like a bird cornered in a cage. He held onto her firmly. “Not so fast, little bird. We’ll be leaving shortly, so say farewell to your loved ones, and then we leave.”
“Leave?” Eirah jerked away from him, glowering. “Thesacrificeis supposed to occur here.”
“The sacrifice,” he said slowly, “will take place when I say so. And for now, you are coming to my palace unless you want me to spill dearPapa’sblood right now.”
“You really are cold and heartless,” she said softly, her nostrils flaring.
Morozko cocked his head, lifting a pale brow. “I doubt the rumors even touch how cold I am, little bird,” he purred and turned on his heel. “Be quick, or I’ll lose my patience.” His gaze followed her as she ran into the crowd, hugging her father, then her friend. If she thought to escape, she wouldn’t get very far.
He scoffed and approached his guard. “You haven’t seen anything…? No cracks in the ground, nothing out of sorts?”
Andras shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. Nothing is out of the ordinary.”
For now.Who knew how long it would remain that way? How long would it take for the changelings to fully break the seal? Never before had the demon created by Maranna been in Frosteria—a threat against the mortals, should they question her, should they cease swearing their allegiance.
“Keep an eye out,” Morozko ordered, then, having lost his patience, he searched for Eirah. He homed in on her, embracing Fedir, who sobbed. Others nearby wept, too.
“Tch. Humans and their frail emotions,” he said to no one in particular, but it was as if Eirah had heard him because she turned her head and glared in his direction.
Amusement blazed within him, twisting his lips into a broad grin. He strode forward, cutting through the throng of villagers until he was before Eirah. “Your loathing is like a beacon. I could find you anywhere withthatkind of aura.”
“You’re a prick,” Eirah hissed under her breath, trying so very hard to control the volume of her voice.
“What was that?” He leaned toward her simply to antagonize her. “Yourkingdidn’t quite hear that.” Morozko raised his voice and glanced around.
Villagers ceased their riotous conversation and focused on Eirah and Morozko.
She said nothing at first, then, “Should we not be leaving, Your Majesty?” Eirah amended her tone.
“You’re right, little bird. After all, we wouldn’t want to keep the guillotine waiting.” Morozko didn’t wait to see her reaction as he led the way to Nuka, who sat not far from the villagers. His familiar’s ears swiveled, listening to the chatter around them and beyond. The wolf’s yellow gaze focused on Eirah as she approached.
“Where is your sleigh, Your Majesty?” Even as Eirah spoke, she looked around for a sleigh she would never find.
It existed, of course. All the way back in the palace courtyard.
“There is no sleigh.” Morozko patted Nuka’s foreleg, stroking his fingers through the silken fur. “We are riding Nuka.”
“What?”
“Well, originally, your throat was to be slit on the altar, and there was no need for a sleigh.”
Eirah drew in a breath and touched her throat.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure there is an audience when I spill your blood. You don’t have to fret over it for the time being.”
Morozko ushered her to Nuka’s shoulder and motioned for the wolf to lie down. He complied, lowering himself so they could mount him.
“You first,” he offered, not trusting that she wouldn’t flee.
She clumsily climbed onto Nuka’s saddle and sat tall and rigid.Proud.There was something he could do about such pride. Pick it apart piece by piece, strand by strand. She would break before the end and beg him to sacrifice her life.
