Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(53)
The cold came at me unbelievably fast. I had no time to do anything but curl into a ball as its teeth grazed my back and arms.
Without thinking, I pulled my arms free and threw fire behind me from my open palms and into the creature’s mouth.
Something sizzled and popped, liquid exploding around me like a burst bubble. Bones snapped and the body collapsed on me in a shocking flare of cold. I stayed still for a minute, dazed by the suddenness of the attack and the strength of my own inadvertent response. When my head cleared, I struggled out from under the dripping carcass, gasping as the freezing liquid soaked through my clothes and slid down my back.
“Get me out of here, you idiot guards,” I shouted, relief making me light-headed and a little giddy. “I killed your foul beast.”
The board scraped back, letting in a sliver of light.
“You’re still alive, Toothpick?” asked one of the guards, his voice high with disbelief.
“What does it look like?” I said shakily. I motioned to the body, squinting as the light hit my eyes. The sight was revolting, a steaming pile of burned and smoking flesh. But it was a welcome sight.
“Looks like a melon exploded in there,” he said gleefully, pointing to the dark blue blood dripping from the walls.
“By Fors, she did it,” said the other guard. “You did it, Firefilth, I’ll give you that. But the king won’t be happy that you killed his pet.”
I panted, looking up at him for a few seconds. “I’d have been less happy if I were in that stomach right now.”
A hint of a smile lifted the guard’s lip.
Elation and shock numbed my fingers and toes. I’d done it. I had beaten incredible odds and defeated the beast. Despite my bravado for the guards’ benefit, I couldn’t quite believe it. For several moments, I felt invincible.
A shadow shifted in the ice on the far wall, moving like black smoke. It had a vaguely human shape, a head with horns and two pointed shoulders. Wisps of something like hands floated at its sides. A chill far colder than ice rushed through my veins. Then it slipped away, faster than my eye could follow.
The captain’s face came into view above. His voice rang out, ordering his guards back to work. He took a long look at me through the bars.
I wiped my hands on the stone. “This thing stinks almost as bad as your soldiers.”
His eyes narrowed. “Nothing stinks worse than a Fireblood.”
He dusted off his hands before turning away, as if speaking to me had sullied him.
Alone again, I slid until my head met the floor, huddled into myself, and closed my eyes.
I was so cold. I searched my memories and found one that made my heart clench: the look in Arcus’s eyes just before he kissed me, his cold lips warming under mine, his ice-chip eyes shining as he looked at me between kisses, like I was something precious and rare and beautiful.
Warmth flickered in my chest. I clutched the feeling to me even as I was hauled up and led to a cell in the king’s keep.
NINETEEN
THE CELL IN THE KEEP WASN’T SO different from the one in Blackcreek Prison. Same stone floors, a bed of straw in the corner, a small window. An old man in stained, stinking robes came in and bandaged my leg. His hands were rough and he used no healing herbs, so different from Brother Gamut with his gentle touch and miraculous tea.
I closed my eyes and asked Sud to protect those dear to me: Arcus, Brother Thistle, Brother Gamut, Sister Pastel, and every monk whose name I could remember, listing them again and again until I fell asleep.
In the morning, I was given a basin for washing, then dressed in sturdy clothes: a brown tunic and leggings. From there, I was taken by guards and presented to the king. As I entered the throne room, something again snatched my heat in an invisible fist and held on tight. I trembled with the effort of keeping myself under control and my face blank.
The king was resplendent in robes of deep blue with gold trim. The sapphire ring glinted on his hand, echoing the color of his eyes, which had seemed darker the day before. Bright morning sunlight poured through the window behind him. He lounged in the throne with an air of ease. As I halted, a spark lit his eyes, a little glint of anticipation that made him seem even younger somehow. If it had been anyone else, I would have thought him attractive.
The throne looked clear today. No shadows moved in its depths.
The same bearded man and young woman stood to the king’s right. As my eyes slid over the golden-haired girl, who wore a long-sleeved turquoise gown, I judged her to be roughly my age or a little older. She returned my look and her cheek dimpled as if she was holding in a smile, not mocking but warm, almost friendly. I blinked in surprise and looked away.
“You killed my beast,” said the king, his voice echoing off the icicles hanging from the ceiling. “Seven men were killed and seven more maimed to get that creature here from Mount Sarcassa. And now you’ve destroyed it.”
He seemed to wait for a response. I worked to keep the hatred out of my voice. It would do no good to get myself executed for insolence. “That was the task you gave me, Your Majesty.”
“Nevertheless, you’ve taken away a source of pleasure, a favorite in my arena. I wonder what compensation you can offer for that loss.” Although the words were accusing, there was an almost playful quality to his tone.
I blinked, trying to adjust to his change in demeanor from the day before. “You find pleasure in watching your champions killed?”