Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(17)

It wasn’t, though, was it? I really didn’t belong here, and I had the most desperate desire to run back outside. I felt as if the castle wanted to expel me, to eject a poison from its veins.

Shalini was clutching my arm, and I found myself clutching hers right back.

We’d hardly moved at all into the hall, even if the wintry wind stung our skin in the entryway.

“Ava,” she whispered, “did we make a bad decision?”

“Fifty million,” I whispered back.

The sound of gravel crunching made me turn my head.

A carriage was now rolling over the frozen stone. This carriage was entirely gilded, from the rims of the wheels to the bridles of the horses. A driver perched in the front, dressed in immaculate black wool. He hopped down and began shooing away King Torin’s footmen.

Still gripping my arm, Shalini exhaled sharply. “I think it’s one of the princesses.”

I had the disturbing feeling that I was about to feel a lot more out of place.

We stared as the driver placed a gold step by the carriage door. Slowly, the door opened, and an elegant leg extended into the winter air. The foot, shod in a pearly white shoe, had nearly reached the step when it stopped.

A woman’s voice spoke sharply. “Too far.”

“I’m sorry, madam,” said the driver quickly.

I winced as his knees crunched audibly in the gravel as he knelt to push the step closer. With the gilt step repositioned, he stood, and the woman’s leg extended again. This time, she took his hand and allowed him to guide her down.

The first thing I noticed about her was the dress—a dark swirl of satin and silk that moved like smoke. Not pure black, I realized as she straightened. It shimmered with dark silver and deep red.

When she caught my gaze, I drew in an involuntary breath. I’d never seen a woman like her before. Her hands and forearms were sheathed in silk gloves, but her upper arms and chest were an otherworldly porcelain white. In contrast with her pale skin, she’d painted her lips a deep red. But nothing compared to her hair. It hung down to her shoulders in thick waves, a deep burgundy, the color of a bruised rose petal.

Torin said he’d chosen me because I was someone he could never love, a “lowborn common fae with a slovenly appearance.” And this woman, I imagined, was just the kind of woman he could love.

Shockingly gorgeous, and with an apparent penchant for ordering people around. Two peas in a pod.

Her pale blue eyes swept over me, and I turned to see King Torin stalking closer. His dark cloak trailed behind him as the icy wind swept in.

She lowered her chin. “Your Royal Highness. I didn’t expect to see you until later this evening.”

“Welcome to my castle, Princess Moria.” King Torin’s deep voice echoed off the stone.

“Oh, there’s no need for formality,” Moria laughed. “I believe we’re on a first-name basis.”

King Torin arched an eyebrow. “Is everything in order, Princess?”

“Oh, yes,” said Moria lightly. “It just took a little while to get here. You know how things can be, packing up. My help simply can’t do anything on their own.”

Really, a perfect match for him. But then, if he chose her, he’d have the distasteful problem of a messy emotional entanglement. Couldn’t have that.

Princess Moria’s eyes moved on from the king. I expected her to look at me, but instead, her gaze latched firmly onto Shalini. She stopped speaking, and her nose wrinkled like she’d just sniffed a fresh pile of dog shit. “Oh! How open-minded of you to allow humans into Faerie. Things really have changed, haven’t they?” Her gaze swept down my body.

“She’s not the only one,” said King Torin. “We have a few with the news organizations to film the competitions.”

Moria’s eyebrows rose. “She’s a reporter?”

“She is my counsel,” I said with a smile. “My advisor.”

Finally, Princess Moria’s gaze moved to me, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. Her eyes were a plum color, like venous blood. They narrowed as she assessed me. Her gaze swept down, and a look of horror crossed her features as she took in my appearance.

“Your advisor?” she said, not bothering to hide the incredulity in her voice. “You’re competing in the tournament?”

“I am.”

She laughed again, trying to make it sound light, but I could hear the strain in her voice. “Most open-minded, indeed. And to offer her your carriage, King Torin, when such an unfortunate creature could not afford her own. I admire your generosity to those in need.”

Ouch.

“Princess Moria.” King Torin bowed slightly. “The opening ceremonies are to begin in twenty minutes.”

If Moria sensed she was being brushed off, she didn’t let on. “Of course, Your Highness. I look forward to spending time in your company once again.”





8





A VA


M oria veritably glided into the castle, and King Torin turned back to Shalini and me. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “The opening ceremonies of the tournament begin in an hour.”

I shook my head “It’s just after six a.m.”

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword like he might need to slaughter two poorly dressed interlopers at any moment. “In Faerie, time moves differently than in the human realm. It is supper here now. All of the competitors have been waiting for nearly an hour, and you’ll need to look—”