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“Untie me,” she demanded again.
“So impatient. We are here to acquaint ourselves better,” he purred.
Why would she want to acquaint herself with someone who had her bound by magic to a damnchair? “How long will I be here?”
“However long I say. Days? Months? Years? Who knows, really?” he said flippantly, flicking his hand in the air.
Her breath caught. Years in a room with nothing? Even days sounded horrific. She would go mad just sitting in there with her hands not working on something—she’d rather be dead. “If I’m to stay until the sacrifice, to get toknowyou, then you’ll have to do something for me.” This would also give her time to prepare for a way to end him once and for all.
Morozko smirked, and a pale brow lifted. “And what is that, little bird?”
“Tools and supplies.”
He scratched at his chin, leaning closer, enough so his spicy scent caressed her nose. “You’ll have to do something for me first.”
9
MOROZKO
Eirah’s eyes widened at his words, and her brow furrowed. If she wanted to be released from his magic, she would have to do precisely what he wanted. Morozko didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, and the feeling was mutual, of that he was certain. She was to die by his hand—what about that screamedtrustworthy?Still, he hadn’t believed Eirah would be so bold as to actually grab his blade.
Morozko didn’t think she’d speak for a moment, then she sighed, her shoulders dropping a fraction.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice low.
He motioned to Ludo, a servant, who stood in the corner of the dining hall, and he ducked out through the back door. “It’s a small thing really…” Morozko raised his hand, indicating with his fingers how little it was.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Would you rather see what else I can do with my fingers?” He arched a brow, leaning closer. A pleasant lavender fragrance struck his senses.
Eirah scowled, her gaze narrowing.
Footsteps broke through their growing tension as the servant returned. He placed a clear goblet on the table, then turned Eirah’s chair to face it, the golden rim sparkling in the late afternoon light.
Ludo lifted a golden pitcher with holly leaves engraved on it. He poured the contents into the awaiting container, and the rich, ruby liquid filled the goblet.
Morozko tilted his head, his smile spreading wide as he studied Eirah. “Drink this, little bird, and I’ll fetch the supplies you need.”
As soon as the words left his lips, Eirah’s jaw tightened, and her hands clenched the arms of her chair.
“No, I will not,” she said. “You’ve poisoned it. Why else would the ultimatum be for me to drink amysteryliquid?” Eirah’s dark eyes flicked to the ruby contents, and she shook her head.
Morozko settled against his chair, his lips thinning as she denied his request. Poison was a coward’s way of killing someone, and he was no coward. “Don’t be absurd, Eirah. I have never been fond of poisons. For one, I prefer my target to know I am about to kill them. And two, I don’t require your sacrifice just yet.”
“That isn’t reassuring at all,” she murmured and eyed the goblet again. The muscles in her jaw flexed before she caught his gaze. “Unbind me, and I’ll drink it.”
Morozko chuckled, drumming his fingers along his chest. “Pardon? You want me to release you so you can flee or try to impale me with one of these knives? I’m afraid not.” He motioned to the set dinner table.
There may not have been any poison in the wine, but there wassomething. His blood. By drinking it, he would form a link with her and hopefully decipher just who she was, including how she was to inherit magic. If Eirah was a foe in the making, he would end her life before she got the chance to oppose him. But if she wasn’t, if she could perhaps be an ally…
He curled his fingers into his palms and ground his knuckles into the wooden arm of his chair. An ally was always welcome, but it still didn’t resolve the matter with the seal or the changelings. If she could be of use, then, perhaps she wasn’t intended for a sacrifice. Which meant he needed to consider someone else. And he—Frosteria—desperately needed a resolution.
“I have no way of drinking it.”
Morozko stood, pushing back his chair, the legs groaning as they scraped against the floor. “Do you think so little of me?” he asked softly, stepping by her side. His fingers slid beneath her chin, but she didn’t jerk away, even with that pretty pouty mouth of hers set in a thin line. “I will raise the cup to your lips.” He dipped his head toward her ear, grinning. “Open up for me, will you?”
He reached for the goblet, grabbing it before he brought it to her mouth. She, of course, wouldn’t part her lips for him.
