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Eirah wouldn’t freeze in the fur-lined dress Xezu had fetched for her. She was human and couldn’t endure the cold like him—his steward knew that all too well.
“I don’t want your stolen dresses,” Eirah hissed, snapping his attention to her.
His face heated with indignation, and he charged forward. “Let me rephrase, in case I gave you the notion I cared as to what you want. Youwillchange into that dress, make yourself look presentable, and meet me tonight for supper.” Morozko walked away but halted at the door. “Oh, and I don’t steal dresses. I keep spare clothes on hand in case any are destroyed in the process of fucking. However, that one was left for me as agift.”
Eirah spat near his boot and spun away from him, her ratty braid swinging like a pendulum.
“You missed.” He lifted his brows, smirking. “I’ll ensure a bath is drawn for you and instruct the servants. If you prefer my assistance, I can gladly pin you down and wash you myself.”
She scowled over her shoulder at him. “I would rather be washed by an animal.”
With a chuckle, he exited the room, closed the door behind him, and leaned against the wall. While riling Eirah was entertaining, it was only a distraction from the more important matter of deciphering who she was in all the madness.
What’s the matter, my son? You can’t figure it out?It was as though his mother had never left. Her voice, so full of derision, filled his head, goading him.
“I will. Somehow, I fucking will,” he seethed. But unlike his earlier tauntings with Eirah, it couldn’t take months or years. With the seal weakening and his visions increasing, time was of the essence. He couldn’t predict how long it would be before a sacrifice had to be made, but he knew it was soon. His visions always bombarded him before the event took place.
Morozko couldn’t let the seal crumble.
Eirah had to die.
8
EIRAH
Morning light spilled through the glass doors leading out to the balcony as Eirah stood in the middle of the room. The birdcage room. She gritted her teeth, thinking about Morozko, wishing she had spat on his face instead of the marble floor beside his pristine boot. Why hadn’t he just murdered her? Was this his plan all along? To keep her as his plaything? To taunt her before he came in for the kill? He certainly hadn’t tried to woo her. And if wooing was inviting her to bathe with him, he needed to work on his skills or, better yet, use his hand to pleasure himself.
The Frost King had only left moments ago, but the door remained unlocked. Eirah still wasn’t planning on escaping—however, she wanted to see if he’d put a guard outside her room as he had the other. She drew the door open to find the same tall, blue-haired frost demon who’d guarded her outside the previous room.
“Do you need me to escort you somewhere?” the guard asked, his voice deep but not unkind.
“No, thank you.” She shut the door behind her and peered around the room where she would remain for however long Morozko deemed it necessary.
Pushed up against the far right side of a cream wall was a large bed fit for a queen, covered in black furs, blue silken sheets, and the maiden’s fur-lined yellow gown the king had left her to wear. On the opposite wall, a tall ivory wardrobe stood with ornate engravings and golden handles. Two velvet chairs tucked into a small circular desk lingered near the corner of the room. Across from it, a fire crackled in a wide hearth, giving off warmth. She searched the drawers of the desk, hoping to find a letter opener or something else sharp that she could use. But the spaces were empty.
Taking off her cloak, she rested it on the chair in front of the desk. Eirah hated to admit it to herself, but the room was lovely, cozy even. She warmed her hands in front of the flames for a few moments before walking to the wardrobe and opening both doors, her eyes widening at what rested inside.
So many beautiful dresses of various sizes and fabrics. Lace. Silks. Furs. Velvets. Leathers. She brushed her hands across each one, wishing she could show them all to Saren. Her friend would’ve been in love, begging to try them on. Her heart sank as she thought about not only Saren, but also her father. He was most likely sitting at their shared workspace, chipping away at anything he could to distract himself, the way he had with her mother.
The door opened, and Eirah whirled around to find Ulva entering the room, wearing a different crimson tunic and a black leather skirt. She carried two towels and a basket of soaps, her gaze drifting to the open wardrobe. “Per the king’s request, I make those for the maidens who come here before they leave. A gift or token of sorts.”
No wonder the mortals spread miraculous tales of the Frost King. They relished a fine gift after being pleasured by the king himself, then gossiped about it. After being kicked out of the palace, a pretty dress wouldn’t be sufficient enough to satisfy Eirah. But the part of her that loved creating focused on another matter.
“You made these?” Eirah asked, trailing her finger across a lacy-capped sleeve.
“I did.” Ulva smiled, inching closer, her hand skimming over a leather bodice before stepping back. “I make the uniforms for everyone here as well.”
“You’re talented,” Eirah said, shutting the doors of the wardrobe. “I make things with my father… or did. But I could never create clothing like this. We make toys and other pieces for the nearby villages.”
“Did you bring any with you?” Ulva asked, her interest piqued.
“I wasn’t allowed to bring anything.” Eirah pursed her lips, then remembered the Morozko doll she’d watched turn to ash in the fireplace of the sitting room and couldn’t help but smile a little.
Ulva bit her lip and nodded as if remembering that she wasn’t talking to a maiden who would leave the palace, but instead to one who was meant to be sacrificed. “I should prepare your bath.”
“Thank you.” Even though she wanted to fight against taking a bath to frustrate Morozko, Eirah was in dire need of one. Dirt and perspiration clung to her. And if she was going to find any pleasure while here, she might as well let herself find it in a warm bath.
Once Ulva filled the tub, she loosened the tie from Eirah’s braid and unraveled her hair. Her long, dark locks cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, falling to her waist.
