Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(43)

I took another sip of the whiskey and handed it back to him. “You’re in charge of all this?”

He pointed to the dark mountains across the valley, where a black castle seemed to rise from the jagged slopes. “The Redcap petty kingdom is found there. So far, six young redcap princes have challenged me in duels.”

“And six died?”

“Four died. Two survived, but they can no longer fight. And consequently, their father, the Redcap king, executed them.”

“He killed his own sons?”

“I don’t go to the Redcap kingdom unless it’s absolutely necessary. The king is horrible.” He pointed to a pale stone castle on the slopes to our left. “The Dearg Due petty kingdom. Once, they dragged humans into their realm to drain them of blood. Now, they make do with hunting deer and elk.” He pointed at the crystalline lake. “The Kelpie clans live around the lake in marshy fields. They could once shapeshift into horses, although they don’t anymore. We can’t see the other clan kingdoms from here.”

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“But fractious. The clans were once at war with each other, and they have little in common to this day. It’s my job to keep them united. Having a queen, restoring life to Faerie, is absolutely necessary.”

He passed me the flask once more.

“What if you want to marry for real one day?”

“I won’t.”

My teeth started to chatter, and Torin leaned in to me. He radiated warmth through his clothes, and I relished it more than I’d like to admit.

“You know, Ava,” he said softly, “I thought you were a mess when I first met you. Obviously. But it wasn’t fair to judge you when you lived in a world where you never belonged.”

“I’m not sure I belong here, either.” I sighed.

“We belong with family. And we don’t have that, do we?”

My mind crackled with fragments of memories of my mom and the warmth I’d felt when I was little. I’d always wanted to get as close to her as possible.

A bolt of loneliness shot through me, and the cold bled down to my bones.

I stood, rubbing my arms for warmth as I searched the snow for my cloak. “I’m going to head back. Are you coming?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stay here a while longer.”

I pulled on my cloak, casting one last look at him before I trudged through the snow. He sat, shoulders slumped, in the dark shadows beneath an oak. Snowflakes spiraled down around us.

The king—the most powerful fae in existence—looked completely and utterly alone.





19

T O R I N

I sat at the end of a long table, my gaze sweeping over the fine woodwork in the hall and the crimson walls above the wainscoting. Ancient suits of armor hung against the mahogany, and a black and white checkered floor spread out before me. A fire burned in a vast stone fireplace, making my back uncomfortably hot.

My gaze flicked to the gruesome tapestry on the wall—the Seelie conquest of the demons three thousand years ago. In the image, King Finvarra held up a severed demon’s head, one with golden horns and black eyes. What the image didn’t show was that the demons had cursed us. After the conquest, the demons condemned us to endless winters until we learned how to keep them at bay with the power of a queen and a throne. The demons cursed us again with the Erlkings, who arrived every hundred years to spread their icy death.

And when we’d tried to make peace with them one final time, they’d cursed my entire family.

They’d blinded Orla. They’d sentenced my parents to death. And they’d condemned me to murder any woman I loved.

Even without the tapestry in this Great Hall, I could never forget the horrific horned demons and what they’d done to our world.

I poured myself a glass of wine, my thoughts dancing with death.

My parents had battled the demons in this Great Hall, had spilled blood across the tiled floor, but it had hardly been the first massacre here. Over a thousand years ago, High King Trian, ruler of the six clans, had held a feast here with two Dearg Due princes. The young men had threatened to take back their ancestral lands, and Trian had promised peace. Midway through the dinner, servants brought out the severed head of a black bull—our symbol of death. And within twenty minutes, the severed heads of the Dearg Due hung speared on our castle gates.

And this was how a Seelie high king kept the peace: keeping bellies full and slitting throats when necessary.

But none of that history could compare to the horror of what lay before me today.

And as the human TV crew began rolling in their equipment on the far side of the hall, my stomach was already turning.

Never in a million years would I have agreed to this—meals with each of the princesses and Ava —except it had been a very specific part of the contract. Without this, the deal was off, and I’d be stuck with the mountains of debt again. The humans wanted to film us as we ate together and broadcast it out to their nation of voyeurs. They called this “the dating portion” of the show.

I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, watching in silence as they set up their equipment before me.

Once, on a visit to Versailles in the human realm, I learned that King Louis XIV allowed all of his courtiers to have intimate knowledge of his life. They watched his wife give birth. They watched them fall asleep and wake up.