AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Now. It involves the king.” His fingers fidgeted with the edges of his cloak.
Morozko… Even thinking his name unsettled her, and she’d never once met the Frost King. “What is it?”
“Father hasn’t told me, but I know it isn’t going to be pretty. Hurry. I need to finish rounding up the other villagers.” With that, he turned on his pristine booted heel, adjusting his fur cloak, and trudged to the cottage next door. Desmond knew something, but she could tell the chieftain had most likely told him not to say anything. She’d grown up with Desmond—they were the same age, yet they’d never been close as he was too focused on carrying on his father’s legacy.
When she turned to grab an apple, her father was already fastening his cloak. “It must be important if it involves the king. We’ll have to eat later.”
“Grabbing an apple first won’t hurt anyone,” she mumbled.
“You can have two when we return.” He tossed Eirah her cloak.
“More like three.” She grinned and wrapped the thick fabric around her shoulders as they walked out into the snow. No one lingered in front of their homes as they all headed toward the center of the village. Most of the people had already gathered around the dais, where the chieftain stood in front of his carved throne, chatting with one of the elders. His thick gray fur cloak was bundled around him, and his onyx braids were drawn back with a leather strap.
Someone stepped beside Eirah, and she glanced over to find her friend toying with the lace of her cloak. “His Righteousness demands we come here,” Saren said in a low voice. “Why doesn’t the king come himself?”
“Perhaps because he’s an arrogant prick.” Eirah rolled her eyes. “Most likely too busy relaxing in a bath while sipping on a goblet filled with blood.”
Saren pressed a fist to her mouth to muffle her laughter. “Indeed.” They’d been friends since they could walk, even though everyone in the village noticed Saren—her long, golden hair, and eyes the color of the sky. She shone like sunshine and twinkled like the stars. Eirah had always preferred the shadows, but even shadows needed the sun sometimes.
The chieftain cleared his throat, taking a scroll from inside his cloak. “The Frost King is quite disappointed in us. In a week’s time, there is to be a village celebration. There, he will choose a maiden sacrifice, then we will return once more to providing him with an annual animal sacrifice. If we deny his request, the entire village will end in bloodshed.”
Gasps echoed throughout the crowd. Eirah’s eyes widened, the cold, dry air stinging her flesh. How could that self-righteous bastard do this? Couldn’t he see that the village had stopped sacrificing their animals because there was no reason to? If they sacrificed more, there wouldn’t be enough to feed their bellies.
Vinti had held the ceremony ever since Morozko was crowned king—a pointless ritual with no true purpose except to please him.
“A maiden, you say?” one of the young men spoke up.
Eirah rolled her eyes at the fool, who must have been proud to be a man, safe.
“Only… one of his choosing.” The chieftain glanced toward his son. “And if we don’t allow him this, he will decimate the village for disrespecting him. To prove his point, he sent Jonah’s hand after he was found near the king’s palace. Jonah knew it was forbidden to go there unless summoned.”
The crowd gasped, and Eirah’s throat grew dry… he’d given ahandas a threat. Even though Jonah was a fool and shouldn’t have been there, he didn’t deserve to have his hand removed from his dead body and sent to the village. A chill crawled through Eirah, not for herself, but for someone very dear to her. If the king was to choose a sacrifice, then he would most likely choose the most beautiful girl in the village…Saren. Beside her, Saren paled.
“At the celebration,” Eirah whispered to her friend, “keep your head down and wear the ugliest dress you own. Untidy your hair as though birds slept through the night in it.”
“You do the same,” Saren whispered back. “I don’t want to lose anyone here, but especially you.”
That was incredibly sweet of her friend to say, but Eirah didn’t need to work on doing that at the celebration. She always looked unkempt, and the Frost King, in all his arrogance, would never choose her.
This was precisely why immortality was a curse. It created a blasé male who had nothing better to do than end an innocent’s life because mortals chose not to be at his beck and call any longer. He and his wounded ego wouldn’t even allow someone to choose to sacrifice themselves if they so wished.
The bastard.
3
MOROZKO
The wind blew hard, howling through the boughs of the trees. Snow piled higher than a cottage in some areas, and if one weren’t careful, they’d fall through. Morozko, in his youth, had done as much. But he didn’t have to worry about succumbing to the cold, nor did he fuss over it collapsing on top of him. He was a frost demon. Snow and ice would bend to his will.
The sleigh ride to Vinti had been uneventful, allowing Morozko to stew over what female he would select. Which one would burn a hole in the hearts of everyone with her absence?
He stepped from the small, black iron sleigh and surveyed the village before him. Lifeless. No songs ringing out, no scents of food tickling his senses. So, Vinti decided not to hold the ritual—even after he demanded the sacrifice of a villager?
Morozko’s lip curled in a sneer. He shoved his cape behind him, and it waved like a battle standard.
He edged forward, and the road cracked beneath his boot. Morozko quirked a brow, then took a second step—another crack formed and spider-webbed across the ground.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, spinning around to take in the sight. His guards uselessly shifted back, their mouths in tight lines, as if afraid to continue.
