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The steward of Frosteria sullied his hands, so Morozko didn’t have to, but that didn’t mean the king wouldn’t. The proof of that was in his hair and on his fingers. But Xezu was his second in-command and when the king needed him, the mortal did whatever was asked of him.
“Unfortunately, the mortals have thought themselves clever and didn’t perform the ritual.” He sauntered toward Xezu, sneering. “And you know what that means.” A flicker of surprise—and possibly fear—entered his steward’s gaze. Morozko was anything but gleeful, but he didn’t want to show the uptick of panic within. Of how theotherswould knock at the seal that his darling mother loosened. Morozko could almost hear the claws scraping at the magical seal, the high-pitched keening…
“But that means…”
His steward knew the truth. Once a villager himself, Xezu was oblivious to the reason behind it. Now, in Morozko’s service, he knew and feared the dire consequences. Rightfully so.
“Precisely. Therefore, they will be forced to sacrifice one of their own. We don’t want to ruffle mother dearest’s feathers, dead or not. Her curse is alive and well.” Morozko reached forward, his fingers taking hold of the popped collar on Xezu’s leather uniform. “We will not risk being overrun by my mother’s creatures, do you understand?” He gave a tug on the fabric, then smiled mirthlessly.
Xezu bowed his head. “Y-yes, Your Majesty.”
Morozko started to walk away, then turned his head. “Find Andras before he leaves. Make certain Vinti puts their all into this ritual. They’re to make it bolder. The bonfire, the feast, the music… They’re to decorate their entire village.” He paused, his smile widening into one of wicked delight. “This time, their sacrifice will be one of their own. And I will decide who it shall be becauseIwill be there to ensure they’re holding up their end of this age-old bargain.” He’d take the one that would hurt the village most. The one the village sought to protect because he wanted the cut to sting.
Xezu blinked. “You mean to go there yourself?”
“Indeed. I don’t trust them now, and if I’m not present, who is to say they won’t try to spite me again?”
His steward seemed to understand the reasoning and nodded. “Very well. I will relay this to Andras, Your Majesty.”
He’d better.
For now, a hot bath was a top priority.
The white marble flooring gave way to a black staircase. The balusters looked like willow branches, and their gnarled limbs twisted around one another, jutting toward the railing.
Morozko ascended the stairs and unbuttoned his doublet. By the time he reached his chamber, he’d slid the article of clothing off and tossed it.
A grand bed sat in the middle of the room, and four black walnut posts held up a silken canopy of white. The far wall was mostly a window that looked over the mountain range, and on most days, mist or snow clouds cloaked their massive forms. But on clear days, the sharp contours of the mountains and the snow-covered valleys were visible. And at night, the vibrant blue, green, and purple hues danced like a banner in the wind.
Sauntering into his washroom, he filled the bath. Steaming water hit the porcelain, and the heat rushed into his face. He removed the rest of his clothing, then stepped in, groaning as the heat lapped at his ankles and calves.
The warmth ate away at the tension in his form but did nothing to quell the fury bubbling within. Mortals always thought they knew better with their novel ideas and new ways to accomplish tasks. When in truth, the old ways were there for a reason…
“You wretched fools.” Morozko swiped at the water, glowering as he cupped a handful and poured it over his head. “And yet, I’d be the one you’d blame after all that I’ve done for Frosteria.”
After all the protection he offered.
The peace.
Now it wastheywho threatened to disrupt it. And the blame would rest on his head, like a crown of daggers.
No. He wouldn’t allow it. The mortals would pay.
2
EIRAH
Mortality in a world of immortals was but a weakness. Even the animals outside Eirah’s homeland lived forever. Frosteria, in a sense, was never meant for humans. The biting cold was endless, and only a fire in one’s home provided true warmth. However, living for eternity could also be one’s curse, especially in an existence destined for loneliness.
The harsh wind blew, sending shivers through Eirah. She drew her fur cloak tighter around her body. “Perhaps immortality would be lovely at this moment, then I could walk outside bare if I so chose,” she murmured to herself. “I mean, not that I would. But there would at least be the opportunity.”
Eirah’s teeth chattered as she stared through the darkness, up into the branches of the snow-covered trees where the moon’s light shone. As on most nights, she couldn’t get a wink of sleep, so she’d ventured out from her cozy cottage to the edge of the forest behind her home.
“Where are you, Adair?” Eirah whispered toward the familiar branch where he usually rested. Over the years, owls came and went, except for one who had continued to return since she was a child.
The beat of wings sounded, followed by a loud hoot piercing through the wind. A wide smile crossed her heart-shaped face as she peered up toward the stars. Bright ivory stood out against the night, and she took a step closer to the tree as the owl’s talons cradled his familiar branch.
“Ah, there you are, sweet prince.” She beamed, no longer thinking about the freezing weather.
