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The crowd murmured, but Morozko didn’t pay them any mind. He grabbed the mortal by the chin, turning her head to look at him once more. “Your name. I won’t ask again before I drag it out of you.”
Her dark eyes hardened, hatred swirling within them. “Eirah.”
Unfamiliar and infuriating.
Since he had a vision about her, he thought her name would stir something—another piece of what he saw sliding into place or familiarity. But there was nothing. He half expected her to unleash magic at him in that moment, yet all that flared was hatred inEirah’seyes, with no simmering surge of power.Interesting.
Morozko dropped his hand and turned to the crowd, assessing them. The chieftain’s weathered face was set in a grim expression.
“Your Majesty,” the chieftain said, bowing. His long, braided hair fell forward, draping over his furs.
All around, torches lined the pathways, blazing to light the way. Spiced pastries and minced meat permeated the air, tempting Morozko to indulge, and perhaps he would.
“No need to hold your breath any longer. I have chosen a sacrifice.” He inclined his head toward Eirah and smiled, his sharp canines grazing his bottom lip.
The beautiful mortal beside Eirah gasped, whispering, “Please, no.”
“Eirah, no!” a male’s voice carried over the din. “Not my daughter.” He burst through the crowd and fell to his knees before Morozko. “Not Eirah, please, Your Majesty.” His graying head bowed as he pleaded, but when Morozko didn’t speak, he tilted it back. Wire-framed glasses slid into place as he peered up at him. Lines of worry or lack of sleep creased the mortal’s face, inspiring disgust in Morozko.Weak mortal.
“Papa!” Eirah shouted. The other female held her back, preventing Eirah from going to her father.
Royal guards shifted behind Morozko as if readying to dispose of the man. He lifted a hand, halting them. The display was sincere and possibly even touching, but it was a waste of energy.
Morozko leaned forward, resting his palm on top of the man’s head. “What is your name?”
“Fedir,” the man proclaimed. “Your Majesty…”
“Fedir, had your simple-minded village done as they were asked, I wouldn’t be here, and Eirah would still be yours. But she isn’t.” Morozko hissed as the man lifted his eyes. “She ismine.”He stepped backward and chuckled darkly, motioning for his guards to haul Fedir back.
“Don’t hurt him!” Eirah rushed out.
Morozko flicked an invisible piece of dust from his doublet. “He is safe. For now.” Sighing, he cast a glance at Eirah. “I believe now is when I request a dance—your very last one.” Morozko extended his hand, palm facing upward.
Eirah stared at him, then recoiled. “No.”
No?Morozko bristled, straightening. “Pardon?” he asked flatly.
“I saidno.” Eirah spat her words. “If I’m to be your sacrifice, then I would rather you take a blade across my throat.”
The gall. She was a bold one, but if she thought her backbone would save her, she was wrong. He gritted his teeth, reeling in his self-control so he didn’t wrap his fingers around her slender, pale throat and end her right there. “The point is, I requested a dance, and I can always select your father for the sacrifice instead… or maybe your beautiful friend who is clutching on your arm ever so tightly.”
Eirah’s dark eyes followed from the mortal beside her to her father through the crowd, the threat visibly sobering her. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” she said coolly, offering her hand to him.
Morozko’s fingers curled around the tips of her warm digits, and he lowered his head to brush his lips against them. Death’s kiss caressed her knuckles in a mockery of affection, then he glanced up at her, smirking. “How lovely of you to acquiesce.”
The bards had all but ceased their playing. Morozko frowned—this wouldn’t do. He couldn’t dance to the sound of torches blazing. He turned on his heel, snapping with his free hand. “Play music. Something lively.”
There was a pause, then the mandolin players plucked their strings, a slow melody for the dance.
Morozko closed the distance between him and Eirah. His arm slid around her slender waist, tugging her against him roughly. She scarcely hid her scowl. Hatred was easier to deal with than a simpering female.
Eirah placed her hand on his shoulder, and he led them in a slow dance as if this was merely a celebration in his ballroom and not a death sentence for the human gathered in his arms. Her lips pressed together so tightly they were nearly white.
“Do you wish to say something?” Morozko baited her, wanting nothing more than to give her a reason to fumble and infuriate him. Every glare, every mutter beneath her breath, was just another moment closer to her demise.
That’s not true.It wasn’t. He needed to know her part in all of this. If she was alive during the changelings breaking free, surely it meant he couldn’t kill her.Yet.
She shook her head in response, refusing him the argument.
