Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(72)
What was causing this reaction? The memory of the scorpions had me clutching my arms.
Then I saw it. The ground was turning white. Frost crystallized as it spread, a growing spiderweb of shining pinwheels that reached for each other with spiny tendrils, joining into a crocheted white blanket that covered the grassy slope. People behaved as if the ice were a deadly poison, slipping and falling and shoving each other out of the way in their desperation to retreat.
“Frostblood!” a woman screamed, and then the shout was taken up by the guards, who struggled to move toward the hooded figure everyone else was trying to escape.
“Don’t hurt him!” I tried to shout, but my voice was hoarse with fear. I knew who it was now, I knew why he’d caught my eye, the familiar breadth of shoulders and the proud angle of his head. The thought of what these Firebloods would do to a Frostblood—him in particular—was terrifying. He was at the edge of the crowd and nearly to the wooded area that covered the hillside when the first guard reached him.
“No!” I cried.
Kai’s hand fell on my shoulder. “Ruby, what—”
I turned and gripped his arms. “It’s Arcus!”
The guards converged on him and he was lost from view.
TWENTY
ARCUS KNELT BEFORE THE QUEEN’S throne. Not that he’d had any choice in the matter. Guards surrounded him, two on each side and four at his back. He hadn’t resisted, at least not since they’d steered him through the doors and pushed him to the floor. I had a dizzying recollection of the moment I’d first been made to kneel in front of King Rasmus, and the comparison made me sick to my stomach.
I stood inside the balcony doors, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. Kai stood a little farther in, his face inscrutable. The queen sat on her throne and Prince Eiko occupied the smaller throne next to hers.
They’d thrown Arcus’s hood off, and I couldn’t help worrying that he must feel exposed. When I’d first met him, he’d kept his scars covered at all times. When he’d been crowned king, he’d dispensed with the concealment, but what would it feel like to have his hood torn away by a group of hostile guards in a land that hated him?
However, he showed no signs of being cowed or embarrassed. His chin jutted high, his face blank but somehow radiating careless defiance. I’d never seen this side of him. If I didn’t know him, I’d peg him as an outlaw, hauled before the queen for his heinous crimes. His worn and tattered hood covered a travel-stained blue tunic and loose black breeches in modest fabrics. There was nothing to indicate who he truly was.
“Who are you?” the queen asked in clipped, accented Tempesian. I stared hard at Kai, willing him to be silent. But my hopes were dashed when Arcus spoke.
“I am King Arelius Arkanus, son of Akur, ruler of Tempesia and the frost throne.” His chin rose infinitesimally and his voice, deep as oceans, so dear and familiar, was at the same time so cold and distant that shivers traced my skin.
The courtiers, who had been muttering nervously, were stricken into sudden silence, as if an axe blade had severed all threads of sound. The air had been sucked from the room, and now it resided in the bursting lungs of twenty or so nobles who collectively held their breath.
“If you were any other Frostblood,” the queen enunciated rigidly, “I would inquire what unfortunate mishap of fate had deposited you in the land of your enemies. But I must assume, as ruler of a land that has murdered my people”—her voice shook as she pounded her fist on the arm of the throne, then stood, rage suffusing her face, heat radiating from her whole body, until even members of the court gasped at the onslaught—“that you have come with some fatally misguided intention to harm myself or those close to me!”
“Harm you?” he said with angry confusion. “I came at your summons. I received a letter just after Ruby departed, demanding my presence here. It contained veiled threats that implied she would be in danger if I didn’t come immediately.”
“I sent no such letter!” she said impatiently.
“It bore your royal seal.”
“Impossible! Can you produce this message?” She gestured to his cloak.
“I don’t have it with me.”
“How convenient.”
“If harming you were my intention,” said Arcus with icy calm, “would I not send an assassin? Why would I risk myself?”
“Indeed, if you are foolish enough to come willingly into my domain, you may be foolish enough to risk anything. Let me assure you, you have made a grievous mistake.”
“I would agree, Queen Nalani, that I was a fool to come here,” Arcus said. A muscle jerked in his jaw. His refusal to look at me spoke volumes. If he was merely angry, he might have glared or curled his lip. Instead, he stared stonily forward with a cool, metallic disdain. His expression bore no hint of his feelings, aside from that tiny muscle in his jaw that he couldn’t control. He’d seen the announcement, the kiss—everything. I closed my eyes as a rush of regret surged from my throat to my stomach. He must be hurt and furious.
Then again, he knew me too well to think I would promise myself to someone else within weeks of parting from him. Even if his initial reaction had been shock, he would soon realize that I’d been maneuvered into this. He had to understand.
The courtiers seemed to realize that they needed, at some point, to breathe. The chatter started up again, quiet but fervent, until it sounded as if the throne room teemed with whispering mice.