Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(15)

“Is that typical of your interactions with the Frost Court?” the dignitary asked.

“Pretty much,” I answered, still smiling at the look on Lady Blanding’s face when she’d realized she was being insulted. “I’ve never enjoyed it quite so much, though.”

“I believe we were going to get some air?” At my nod, he started to reach for my arm but checked the movement. Instead, he motioned outside. When we had crossed the threshold, the footmen shut the doors sharply behind us.

He chuckled. “I find it amusing that they keep the doors closed. Are they worried about letting in a draft?”

I stared. “That is strange, actually.”

“We shouldn’t squander such a thoughtful gift,” he said silkily. “What should we do with all this newfound privacy?”

Instead of answering, I strode purposefully down the path into the ice garden, my slippers crunching over the gravel, my skirts rustling like autumn leaves. The air altered as we moved farther from the ballroom, cooling and crisping, the scent of expensive perfumes replaced by pungent hints of pine, oil from hanging lamps, and the minty breath of drowsing pennyroyal. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the chill but also using my gift to push out a layer of heat beneath my thin gown.

“I don’t know what you think we’re doing out here,” I said as the dignitary ambled alongside me, “but I’m here to talk about you signing the peace treaty.”

“And yet you’re all alone,” he said, as if he thought me too innocent to appreciate the possible danger. “What would stop me from deciding I didn’t want to talk at all?”

“My fire would stop you,” I said seriously, halting and turning to him. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to use it.”

He made an amused sound. “I’m afraid that isn’t as intimidating as you’d like it to be, Lady Ruby. Not with me.”

“You’re not a Frostblood.”

“Definitely not.”

“Then you should be intimidated.”

The edge of his mouth tensed, as if he fought a smile. “Because your ‘Arcus’ will have me dealt with if you ask him to?”

I angled my chin up. “If anyone can heal the wounds opened by his brother, Arcus can. And yes, I call him ‘Arcus’ because that’s how I first knew him, well before he became king. His sense of honor runs deep and he has never let me down. You can trust him.”

“You truly believe what you’re saying, don’t you?” he asked with a hint of wonder. And perhaps pity.

“Of course I do. And so should you. The sooner the peace accords are signed, the sooner we can begin healing Tempesia.”

“And where do you fit into this… healing?”

I shrugged. “Doing whatever I can, I suppose.”

“But what do you want? What do you want for yourself?” The question was strangely intense.

I hesitated. I could have kept my distance with some vague answer. But I sensed it was a serious question, and that he was still deciding whether to trust me, and by extension, trust Arcus. The trouble was, I didn’t really know what I wanted. When I tried to picture my future, my mind clouded, as if I were looking at a glass ball filled with smoke. I needed to destroy the Minax, to stop the visions and get my mind back again, but I couldn’t tell him that. So I told him a different truth.

“I want the kind of peace we had before King Akur, when trade was open between provinces. Between kingdoms. With Sudesia, where my mother came from.”

Something flared in his eyes, bright and fierce. “Do you truly believe that’s achievable in your lifetime?”

“Don’t you?”

He wore an enigmatic smile. “I commend you for dreaming big.”

“By all means,” said a voice from somewhere in the darkness of the garden. “Let the fools dream of peace. I, for one, would prefer to make our enemies pay.”





FOUR



THREE LANTERNS WENT OUT, ONE after the other, leaving only the nearest one casting a small circle of light around a shadowy figure. It was the footman I’d seen staring at me earlier.

“We had all kinds of elaborate plans to isolate you, Firefilth,” he said, “and then you wander out here.” He turned a menacing look on the dignitary. “We didn’t expect you tonight, but we’ll take the good fortune bestowed by Fors.”

Though the dignitary hadn’t changed position, tension radiated from him. “The god of the north wind has nothing to do with my presence here.”

“Who are you?” I asked the blond man.

His grin widened. “I’ve been told I bear a resemblance to my brother. Surely you haven’t forgotten him.”

In the space of a breath, it all snapped into place. The sandy-blond hair, the familiar arrogant grin. I would never forget the man he resembled—the man who’d killed my mother. “You’re Captain Drake’s brother.”

“Oh, so the lady does remember. And do you also recall his wife and daughter, watching from the crowd, sobbing their eyes out as you took my brother’s life in the arena?”

I swallowed. “I do.”

“Not that you care, but Ilva died within a week of her husband. They say it was a fever, but I know the truth. Grief killed her. Then my poor orphaned niece sent me a message that my brother’s killer was being treated as a lady and living in the castle. Fortunately, there’s a sizable group of people who want to get rid of you. I only had to join their ranks and wait for an opportunity.”