A King So Cold Read online

  A moment later, three taps sounded on the door, and Zadicus glided in. With his long hair tied at his nape and dressed in all gray save for the white tunic under his vest, he bowed, his cloak folded over his arm. “I will take my leave, your majesty.”

  I could only nod, at a loss for words.

  He was getting married. I needn’t have asked to whom. Right now, the matter of who was irrelevant, but it was clear she was insane.

  And it was clear I should not care.

  I knew the risk I’d taken and what it would cost my heart, but I’d done it anyway.

  Yet it seemed as if some naïve part of me had foolishly hoped for his return. That one day, when all this darkness had passed, he would recover his memories, and we would find one another again.

  He could never return. If he did, he’d die by my own decree.

  He’d betrayed me in every abominable way, but that didn’t mean I’d sit on the throne I’d had every intention of sharing with him and just allow him to marry someone else.

  I pushed my chair back, nodding at Truin, who was staring up at me with concern lining her milky brown eyes. “Shield your weakness, Truin. You can keep your tongue today.”

  I stalked past Zadicus, but I should have known not paying him any mind would have him trailing me. “May I ask what it is you’re up to?”

  “No, you may not.” I made haste for the stairs, racing around and around each curling row until I’d reached my chambers and pushed the doors open.

  Zad’s presence was that of a curious cat as I changed into leather pants and a woolen thermal. The combination was hideous, but the need to blend in was paramount.

  I donned my boots and cloak again, and tugged at the mustard brown chafing my stomach.

  Hands gripped my upper arms, startling me from my rush. “This is about Raiden.”

  How he’d realized, I didn’t care to know. “Remove your hands before I remove them from your body.”

  He didn’t. If anything, his grip only tightened. “You cannot bring him back to this kingdom. He is a traitor, and our people would rather see him drained than to rule by your side.”

  My teeth gnashed, and I hissed through them, “And I’d rather him drain than let him swear himself to someone else.”

  Zad’s long brown lashes swept up, and his grip loosened. “He’s to marry someone.”

  It wasn’t a question, so I said nothing else as I left him there and headed for the caves.

  “We are a kingdom on the brink of war,” he called. “A queen cannot abandon her people in times such as these.”

  “A queen can do whatever she damn well pleases.” The doors shut behind me with a gust of wind so strong, the handles broke so he couldn’t follow.

  Surrounding the rear of the castle, looming like giant sentinels kissing the sky, were snowcapped mountains as far as the eye could see.

  Clouds swallowed some of the peaks, and unless you visited them, you couldn’t make out the doorways to the caves within.

  Inside the two smaller mountains closest to the castle lived one of my favorite creatures.

  Wen’s breath plumed in the frigid air. My cloak fanned behind me, exposing me to a chill I couldn’t feel. Within minutes, we’d reached the base of the mountain range.

  When I neared the highest point I could take Wen, I dismounted and handed the midnight black stallion to the guard before hurrying along one of the trails that led to some of the ten cave entrances. The two gatekeepers bowed as I passed and fled inside.

  Mintale was there before Vanamar’s handler could even finish saddling him, demanding someone prepare his own beast.

  “I do not need your reprimanding or sniveling presence right now.”

  Mintale clicked his fingers at the handler who was rushing to saddle his mare. “I know. I’m merely here should you need any help.”

  That surprised me, and I raised a brow at him. We both knew he would be useless should I need a battle companion. I knew where every spy encampment was to the west stretching toward The Edges and the gray and whispering sea. I would hide myself—probably a lot better without his presence—just fine.

  Vanamar grunted, turning his horn-flecked head to the trainer to growl at him for pulling the straps too tight. “Get out.”

  The young male vanished, and I got to work on checking the saddle and reins before leading Van to the wider side entrance. The caves tunneled inside the peaks of the twin mountains, the scent of hay and rotting chicken carcasses staining the damp dirt within. Below them, the kingdom spread like glittering jewels hit by a ray of light, rife with energy and dazzling with hidden danger.

  Furbanes were Allureldin’s fastest mode of transportation. Though not just anyone got to own a beast for themselves. We bred them, but not often for it was not only difficult but also dangerous, being that the females did not care for it and would try to remove the male’s horns, limbs, or even genitalia. For now, there were only eleven.

  Over ten feet tall with a torso of fur that resembled that of a grizzly bear and a feathered wingspan that spread farther than that into the skies, furbanes were horned creatures both feared and envied by many.

  Vanamar’s folded wings twitched as we exited the cave, and he opened his mouth, releasing a roar that displayed teeth as long as my arm and shook the snow from the skies. Stuffing my hands into his fur, I hoisted myself into the saddle, then took the reins wrapped around the curled horns atop his head. “Rah.”

  He began to run, and within seconds, we were airborne, my stomach dipping as we soared into the harsh glow of early morning. Glancing over my shoulder, I wondered if Mintale had decided to stay behind, but then I heard his bellowed shout. Smirking, I shook my head, my knees clasped tight over Van’s sides as I leaned forward, spurring him to fly faster.

  Twisting cobbled streets, shopfronts, estates, and dozens of smoke-throwing chimneys soon faded into dirt roads, cottages, villages, and endless patches of green forest. Our world was a realm of beauty even though we’d done our best to tear it apart.

  Smoke rose from campfires to the west, and I beckoned Van east, toward the trade entrance of the Gray Sea. I steeled my spine, hunched down, and we flew higher into the clouds. It would be a day’s journey to The Edges.

  To the sole reason Rosinthe was a hostile continent on the cusp of war.

  The Whispering Sea churned like a roiling serpent below, and I refrained from holding my breath as we descended and crested the darkening waves.

  We’d only heard tales of what lurked beneath its waters, and I had very little desire to find out if they held any truth.

  It took what seemed like the entire journey to recognize what it was that had my teeth chattering. For it wasn’t the Whispering Sea, and it wasn’t the cold.

  The cold was my friend. Aside from the beast beneath me, perhaps my only one.

  No, the emotion that caused it was better left unnamed and ignored.

  “We need to leave the beasts behind,” Mintale said, reaching my side, his voice barely carrying over the wind.

  “No,” I said. “We won’t be long.”

  We sped forward to where the sea narrowed, then fell off a cliff to skirt between the mines. The Edges were home to those who had been exiled or owed the kingdom an unpayable debt. Beyond the minuscule stretch of farmland, tiny village streets wove in every direction toward the sea and the coal mines.

  In the center of the dust-saturated land sat a church for the humans who prayed to a different deity, and I wondered, idly, what king or queen before me allowed such a building to exist.

  Freedom was something Rosinthe prided itself on. We were a continent under rule, but a continent that welcomed almost anyone and their offspring. Almost anyone.

  Our races mixed and were allowed to. Royal children played with human children, and should an unlikely pair link—a lifelong bond only breakable by death—or choose to pledge vows, they were welcome to.

  Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps too much freedom had dug thorn-strewn
grooves into the heart of who we were, allowing room for sinister things to grow.

  Spying a dock falling piece by piece into the sea, I pressed my heels into Van’s flanks and leaned forward.

  He dropped down, wingtips skirting the water and spraying. I nudged him again, cursing as water droplets smacked into my face.

  He grunted and righted himself.

  “There.” I pointed at where a tiny farmhouse hid among a field of wheat.

  We landed with a jolt that caused my teeth to clack. “Let’s be quick,” I said once we’d dismounted.

  Well, once I’d dismounted.

  Mintale had his foot stuck in the stirrup, and I sighed, waiting for him to get untangled. He didn’t.

  “Gah,” he bellowed, arms pinwheeling as he fell backward to the ground. His mare turned to stare at him, then turned away and tore a large chunk of wheat from the ground.

  My eyes closed momentarily, then I stomped over and yanked him up by the collar of his tunic.

  “Hurry up,” I said, glancing at the full moon taking shape in the sky.

  No one would dare touch a furbane that belonged to the royal court, or otherwise, but in times like these, it would be wise not to draw too much attention to ourselves. Especially in a land filled with criminals and desperate souls.

  A bell rang from the north, and I cursed, trudging through the field with an urgency that would have been embarrassing if I had the time to care, of which I did not.

  Mintale struggled to keep up. He was five hundred and twenty years old, and it was definitely starting to show.

  “How are we going to take him?”

  “By force.”

  Mintale pondered that. “Bind his hands?”

  I didn’t bother answering and rechecked the flow of the sea, heading north once we’d reached the dirt road.

  The day’s end didn’t mean much to those in this district. Eyes peeked through venetians, cracks in the rotting wooden housing, or stared blatantly from porch steps as we turned onto the main street of town and spied the ramshackle church at the opposite end.

  My skin started to itch, and it took considerable effort not to rub my arms, which felt as though they’d been layered in a film of dust. I was wearing long sleeves, but I could still feel it—sticking, cloying, and suffocating. “It’s so dirty here,” I said between my teeth as Mintale waved like a fool at a few passersby openly ogling us.

  Some dropped into a bow once their sight adjusted and they realized who was marching past them, but others were too busy gaping to react fast enough.

  “It’s the mines.” Mintale winced. “I loathe to think what it’s like inside them.”

  I lifted my gaze to the volcanic looking mountain to the left, then shrugged.

  “Majesty!” A woman raced out in front of me with a babe pressed to her bosom. “May I please ask for your blessing?” Her lips wobbled as her soiled hand patted the babe’s back. “My daughter, she be sick, coughing like that of an Ergin.”

  I glanced at her smudged brown face, my lip curling as my hand twitched and sent her stumbling back over the dirt. “The cursed do not bless,” I said as her infant wailed.

  Whimpering and muttering about the devil, she scrambled away.

  We continued—thankfully uninterrupted—until we could see the closed church doors. Stopping, we studied the worn structure for a moment. The doors appeared to be locked from the inside.

  “It would seem their god does not wish you to enter.”

  “Quiet, Mintale.”

  Rain began spraying the earth in soft pelts, heightening the scent of filth and grime, and casting a strange gloom across the air.

  For a fleeting moment, I almost felt bad that he’d been forced to live here. Almost.

  Of course, Mintale did not shut up. “They say rain on your vow day is good luck.”

  I skirted around a mutt chasing a tisk. “There’s no such thing as luck.”

  Nearly stumbling over the mutt as it lunged for the insect’s wings, Mintale hurried after me. “You know how humans can be. Always needing to believe in something greater than their dismal existence.”

  I scoffed, done with hearing such fanciful crud.

  “Especially when something does not go as they’d hoped it would,” Mintale continued, and by that point, I didn’t want to open my mouth to tell him to shut up for fear of what I’d ingest.

  We ascended the crumbling steps, and of course, he took my silence as a sign to continue rambling. “Majesty, might I ask what it is you have faith in?”

  Pausing outside the flimsy wooden barriers, I curled my lips. “Me.”

  Then I sent a gust of wind hurtling at the doors.

  Wood splintered and groaned.

  Screams and gasps lifted my smile as the remains of the doors crumbled in scraps to the pews and concrete floor.

  I paid the attendees no mind and marched straight for the altar.

  I’d expected to grab him by the neck or the hair and haul him out of there.

  I’d expected not to feel anything other than the winter-crusted slice of rage that held the tattered pieces of my heart together.

  What I didn’t expect was for my boots to catch in a crack of concrete, twisting my ankle as he turned from his position in front of some priest and narrowed his eyes at me.

  Time came to a crashing halt, rewinding and fast-forwarding all at once.

  Breathe with me, silk.

  He blinked, taking a slow step back.

  Come undone for me, silk.

  Air wheezed out of me, shallowing my lungs and electrifying the dead organ in my chest.

  Hair a shade darker than soot curled around his hairline, dusting his brown cheeks. His lean form had broadened. Hardened. Muscles had grown muscles upon his shoulders and his biceps, where a tribal tattoo of a flaming sun wrapped around the taut skin.

  Mintale’s hand touched mine. “Majesty?”

  Tugged back to the nightmare of reality, I snatched my hand away. “Seize him.”

  Raiden tore his green eyes from my face. Confusion swept his brows together as he looked at Mintale.

  “The queen,” someone gasped.

  Chatter sounded from the few patrons in the pews, the aging priest nothing but a statue as his robes began to flutter around him.

  “It couldn’t be,” said another. “Here?”

  I steadied my breathing, and the breeze that’d trailed us inside the ancient structure settled.

  That was, until the woman beside Raiden shrieked.

  “Who in the darkness are you?” Raiden moved to stand in front of his betrothed, and the sight was enough to have the rafters creaking.

  Her hair was the color of a raging fire, and her eyes that of the dark Gray Sea. She was pretty, I’d give her that much, but pretty was no match for the wrath of betrayal.

  Did they think they could get away with such disrespect? Granted, Raiden would have no clue who I was, but the wide-eyed swine cowering behind him did.

  Before Raiden’s hands could touch her, I swept them behind his back, and he cursed. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “You will come with me.” I turned for the doors, my cloak billowing behind me. “Or the pretty fool dies.”

  “Raid,” the woman said, and I spun back. One look and her mouth was sealed in ice, incapable of opening.

  She should consider herself lucky that was all I did.

  Mintale grabbed Raiden by the arm. “She is her majesty, the queen, and you would do well to invest more time in learning such things rather than finding a young wench to wed.”

  I nearly snorted at Mintale’s attempt to defend my weak heart. He needn’t have bothered. It was dead a long time ago.

  We made it down the steps before the commotion began. “Unhand me. I’ve done nothing wrong!”

  “You’ve done everything one could possibly do wrong.” I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t trust myself to.

  “No. Wait.” A group of dirt-marred faces scrambled closer. “There m
ust be some mistake.”

  “Believe me,” I said, pushing by the stench, “the mistake was all mine.”

  No one helped Raiden as they saw him curse and struggle in Mintale’s grasp.

  Once upon a time, Raiden could’ve killed Mintale with but a thought. That was before Truin wiped him clean of everything he once was and left him with a bland memory of a male with a different life, a different world, and a different heart.

  Stopping, I peered around at the gathered crowd, who began to slowly inch back.

  “Come.” I clicked my fingers at two men drinking lager in front of a tavern. They drained and dropped their tankards and stomped over the wet soil toward us. “Carry this…” I waved at Raiden. “This traitorous thing for me.”

  With two sloppy bows, they then hurried to wrestle the struggling six-foot-three giant from Mintale. We made it to the field before it dawned on Mintale just how difficult the journey home would be with a distressed, angry male to drag with us.

  “Be gone,” I told the two gents. Only when they’d scuttled back to the dirt road did I then turn my eyes to my heart’s demise.

  His face was a shade darker, the golden hue darkening with dust, his ire, and the growing night. I could practically smell it and tried not to let my satisfaction show. “You.”

  “Me,” he said, nostrils flaring, pupils overgrown. “Queen or not, you must be one truly despicable creature to disrupt one’s wedding ceremony. I demand you release me.” His teeth slammed together as he growled, “Now.”

  “Or what?” I raised a brow, blinking slowly.

  His bearded jaw hardened, and like fingers over a swath of silk, I remembered trailing my own over his freshly shaven skin.

  His plush lips rose into a grin that once made me see red before seeing every star in the night sky within his arms—and then he was running.

  Mintale sighed, coming to a stop beside me. “Shall I?”

  “One moment.” We watched as he made it all the way to the road before I raised a hand. A boulder rose on an invisible wind and sailed into the side of his head. He fell to the ground like a pillar of concrete. “It’s fun to watch when they think they can get away.”