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But you need her alive.
For now, if only to figure out what her place in the visions meant.
He pulled himself up behind her, settling in closer than necessary. This close, he could smell woods, fresh air, and a hint of lavender. The combination reminded him of runs through the forest with Nuka, training in the courtyard, and hiding on his balcony in the early mornings. Perhaps hewouldallow her into his bed for a night—she could ride him until that scowl dissipated from her face while he waited on the precise moment for the blade to glide across her throat.
“Eirah of Vinti,” he breathed in her ear. “Your life here is over.”
6
EIRAH
The wind kicked up as the Frost King’s wolf carried Morozko and Eirah across the snowy terrain. Morozko gripped the reins with one hand, bringing them down for Nuka to go faster. His other arm circled her waist, holding her like his prisoner. Her death had been delayed, and that gave her a reason not to shove his arm away. But, oh, how she wished she did take the blade Petre had offered Saren. She hadn’t even been allowed to gather her things to sneak one in, yet she would find a way to put an end to him if he didn’t sacrifice her first.
Eirah was riding on awolf, a massive white one at that. One like she’d never seen, although she had heard the stories about Morozko’s familiar. Heard how Morozko would pick his maidens, then after the Frost King was finished pleasuring them, the familiar would bring the females home without the king accompanying them.
On either side of Eirah, the frost guards rode on their ivory stags. Their black and red uniforms were all the same. Eirah wasn’t angry at the guards—they were only doing their duty. Every word whispered and shouted about Morozko’s cruelty was true—he could have given the village another chance and told them that if they didn’t perform the ritual, he would take a maiden. Yet he hadn’t.
Another gust of chilly wind licked across her—she hadn’t even been given a pair of gloves. Her teeth chattered as she drew her cloak tighter, then leaned into Morozko’s warmth, inhaling a spicy scent. She hated herself for it, but with the wolf’s increased speed and the icy wind, her chest heaved, her lungs finding it difficult to drink in the air.
“Not too much longer, little bird,” Morozko cooed in her ear.
Eirah kept her words locked inside her mouth—there wouldn’t be a point in speaking them aloud. She was the sacrifice,hissacrifice. Back at the village, she hadn’t cried—not a single tear spilled down her cheek. When Morozko had chosen her, relief overpowered the anger that had flooded her. Relief that her closest friend hadn’t been chosen by this vicious king. But that hadn’t meant Saren was relieved.
“Let me sacrifice myself to him instead,” Saren begged, gripping Eirah’s shoulders. “I can offer myself to the king in other ways to entice him…”
The thought horrified Eirah. As beautiful as Saren was, and with as many men that had tried to woo her, she hadn’t tumbled one before. “You will do no such thing for me,” Eirah said, her voice soft. “Your brother still needs you—you both have already lost so much.”
“So have you and your father,” Saren whispered, the words strangled.
“I’ve made my decision, and you will be safe.” Eirah hugged her friend tightly.
“Find a way to survive,” Saren sobbed as she hugged her back.
Eirah’s father had wept, not wanting to let her go, but she’d told him to stay strong and that she loved him.
Nuka charged through the forest—darkness blanketed them, no beast daring to attack Morozko and his guards.
She couldn’t see well in the dark like an immortal could—only the outlines of shadows and branches. Morozko’s arm tightened around her waist as though she would leap from his familiar at this very instance.
Might as well, Eirah. Breaking your neck may disappoint the prick since it wouldn’t be by his hand. The thought of his ire over it made the act tempting. But no, she wouldn’t end her life—she would fight back until her last breath. If she killed the Frost King at the palace, the guards would most likely only kill her, not her village, and the sacrificial ceremonies could end. She also needed to make sure she succeeded—otherwise, she knew Morozko would pluck Saren to become his sacrifice next.
They broke through the forest, and the massive outline of the king’s mountain rested just ahead with the moon illuminating Morozko’s ice palace. Nuka hauled them up the slopes and curves of the mountain leading to the castle. Eirah had seen it from a distance when traveling to frost demon villages to deliver toys but never this close. The palace was sculpted from pure ice, its spiked towers brushing the starry sky. She couldn’t see the smaller details in the night, only the icy drawbridge when they barreled across it.
Nuka slowed as they approached Morozko’s home. Not a single garden in sight. Only the castle, trees, and snow.
Once the wolf halted, Morozko didn’t hesitate to hop down, his boots crunching the snow. He held out his hand with a smirk on his irritatingly perfect face, his red cape billowing behind him. She ignored him and leaped from Nuka, her feet stumbling as she hit the ground, her body careening forward into the freezing snow.
Morozko tsked, hovering over her, a tendril of white hair falling over his eye. “Should’ve taken my hand, little bird,” he purred, reaching out to her once more. “Or perhaps used magic.”
“You know damn well humans don’t have magic.” Scowling, she pushed herself from the ground and brushed the snow from her dress with frozen fingers.
“Thank you for the ride, Nuka,” Eirah said to the familiar, then turned and trudged past a frowning Morozko for the door. She didn’t hate his wolf familiar—he’d been doing his duty like the guards.
Two guards stood at the entrance of the ornate double doors, swirling designs etched into the ice. They drew open the doors, and Eirah entered the large space, the spicy aroma of Morozko heavier here. It wasn’t an awful scent, but rather something she would have longed to smell again if it didn’t belong tohim.
Morozko sauntered past her, glancing over his shoulder, his ice-blue eyes meeting hers. “Are you going to stand there and freeze all night?” He motioned for her with a finger to follow him before resuming his pace. She narrowed her gaze at his back but followed him down a hallway filled with sculpted wolf heads lining the walls.
They ascended two flights of ivory stairs, leading down another hallway—this one with carved wooden battles decorating the walls. One of the doors was open, and they entered the room where a fireplace was already lit, its orange flames eating away at two logs.
