Marai bristled. She wouldn’t break. Not like she had after leaving Slate, or Cleaving Tides, and certainly not by Ruenen’s hands. This time, she was in control. This time, she was safe. Marai focused on her feet, on each step, grounding her to the wet stone beneath her slippers, as she walked into the castle hall.

Guards were stationed outside the doors. Marai was about to enter when she heard the sound of light feet behind her.

Aresti appeared at her side. “I’m coming today, remember?”

“I remember.” Although, Marai was hesitant to bring Aresti with her. Splitting up the fae any further would weaken them. Marai knew she could handle herself if things went wrong in Grelta, but she couldn’t guarantee Aresti’s safety. And back here in Nevandia, if anyone rebelled against the new fae agreements in Ruenen’s absence, the fae would be vastly outnumbered.

“When do we leave?” Aresti asked, craning her neck upwards to stare at the hall ceiling.

As if in response, the chamber doors open. Avilyard marched out. He spotted Marai and Aresti against the wall.

His deep voice echoed off the marble and granite as he said, “The Witan is ready.”

Chapter 18

Ruenen

Ruenen wiped sweaty hands on his refined outfit of velvets and silks, as Marai and Aresti followed Avilyard back into the room. Mayestral had dressed Ruenen in gold and forest green to represent Nevandia abroad, as per Holfast’s request.

Goso and a younger man, his assistant, who reminded Ruenen of a mosquito, stood with Avilyard and eight King’s Guards clumped to the side of the chamber.

“What is she doing here?” asked Vorae, gesturing to Aresti.

“Aresti wants to help protect His Highness,” Marai said quickly before Aresti could retort. “She’s a trained fighter. I should think you’d be relieved to have more protection for His Highness.”

Vorae grumbled something to Fenir, but said nothing more.

Ruenen approached Aresti and smiled. “I’m glad to have your help.”

He expected her usual dismissive shrug, but instead she nodded respectfully, perhaps under the impression that this was some kind of “audition” for her, though Ruenen couldn’t imagine what for.

“We should be on our way,” Goso said, waving the King’s Guard over towards Ruenen.

Marai met Ruenen’s gaze. His smile turned cat-like. “After you, Lady Marai.”

She shot him a sneer, one Ruenen knew the entire Witan saw, as she raised her hands. Multi-colored magic rushed down her arms and out through gloved fingers. The Witan and guards backed away, tripping over their own feet at the sight of magic. The portal shimmered and crackled into place, revealing glittering snow on the other side. A chill nipped Ruenen’s cheeks.

“This will drop us off a short walk from Lirrstrass and the Glacial Palace.”

Marai had told Ruenen over breakfast that she didn’t want them to simply appear out of thin air in the middle of the unsuspecting capital city of Grelta. That would likely not go well with first impressions.

“I’ll check the area,” Aresti said, and without waiting for a response, stepped into the portal. Councilmen gasped. Goso’s assistant quivered, holding tightly to his briefcase. After a moment, Aresti’s face appeared on the other side. “All clear.”

Avilyard sent four guards in first, followed closely by Goso and his nervous assistant. Ruenen turned around, meeting Holfast’s stern eyes. Every wrinkle was visible in the warning the Steward gave him.

“I’ll keep him safe,” Marai said, noticing Holfast’s serious expression.

Ruenen stepped into the portal, feeling the threads of Marai’s magic swirl around him, caressing his skin as the Glacial Palace came into view.

Frigid air ripped through him, biting at his nose and exposed fingers. A layer of snow coated the ground, crunching beneath Ruenen’s feet. His breath puffed out in whorls.

Right. Back in the North. Ruenen was begrudgingly grateful that Holfast had forced him to wear the white fur cloak. Already, Ruenen missed the temperate spring weather in the Middle Kingdoms. Grelta was still in the throes of winter; they wouldn’t see spring here for several more weeks.

Ruenen had seen the fanciful Glacial Palace before. Something from a storybook, the castle sat before a background of the snow-capped White Ridge Mountains and glistening forests of pine. He’d come to Lirrstrass several times during his travels, before he’d hired Marai. Before they’d begun this insane journey together. Before he’d kissed her in the shed a few hours ago . . .

Don’t think about that. Ruenen forced his eyes to focus ahead on the road, and not to Marai at his side. They hadn’t returned to Grelta as the Lady Butcher and Ard the Bard.

“Come, Your Highness, we must be quick,” Goso said, marching onwards, followed by his assistant.

Guards surrounded Ruenen on all sides, including Marai and Aresti, as they passed over a wide bridge. The frozen stream below cut the castle off from the rest of the capital city of Lirrstrass and the nearby alpine lake and pine forests. Marai’s portal had dropped them in the woods up the road, away from the prying eyes of the city. Now, however, people noticed them and the Nevandian banner they carried. Burly Northerners lined the streets in their thick fur coats and boots, watching with curious eyes as Ruenen’s retinue passed through.

“Make way, make way,” said Goso in a commanding, pompous tone. “Make way for Prince Ruenen of Nevandia.”

Then the whispers really started. People flocked to the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of the newest ruler in the Nine Kingdoms.

“Is that truly necessary?” Ruenen asked the ambassador as several women waved.

“Of course, Your Highness. If you want to have a respectful alliance, it starts here with these commoners.” Goso continued to shout his commands to citizens crossing the road.

The guards, Marai, and Aresti kept their hands on their weapons, alert, as they approached the metal grate of the Glacial Palace. Constructed from Northern obsidian rock, the castle sparkled in the remaining daylight. Snow caked the turrets, towers, and inclines. Icicles dripped from its many roofs and arched windows. The large Greltan flags on the four tallest towers were frozen stiff from ice. It was a palace from a fairytale.

Except for the nightmare leaning casually against the black gate.

Nosficio’s feline grin spread wide, exposing both fangs, as he bowed. “Your Highness, Ambassador . . . Lady Marai.” He straightened, focusing now on Ruenen. Nosficio sniffed in his general direction.

Lirr’s Bones, could Nosficio smell Marai on him?

The vampire raised a knowing, cocked eyebrow. Yes, he could.

“Queen Nieve anxiously awaits your arrival,” Nosficio said.

Ruenen swallowed. His palms sweat inside his gloves despite the cold. Nevandian guards blocked Nosficio from getting closer, but the vampire leaned in towards Ruenen.

“She was quite surprised at your sudden arrival, but she is very curious.” Nosficio looked to Marai, then Aresti. His nostrils flared, scenting her fae blood. “And who, may I ask, are you?”

Aresti regarded Nosficio with caution and skepticism. “None of your concern, vampire.”

The silver Greltan soldiers surrounding the castle leered darkly at Nosficio, but they hadn’t harmed the vampire, which meant that his appearance wasn’t unexpected. Possibly normal. Nosficio turned to the guards at the gate.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Ruenen of Nevandia, has arrived to speak with Her Majesty Queen Nieve. Perhaps you could open the gate,” Nosficio said with all the finesse of a practiced courtier.

The guards stiffened, but then proceeded to raise the iron grate. Ruenen and his retinue entered the courtyard. Intricate ice sculptures of the gods surrounded a frozen pond. Ruenen had never seen such craftsmanship before. Lirr twirled, the ice of her dress perfectly capturing the movements, eyes sparkling in joy as a tree sprouted at her feet. Laimoen was mid-stab with his dagger, face set in a fierce gurn. Each of the sculptures were so realistic that if they were not crystal-clear, Ruenen might be convinced the gods were really there, affixed in their poses.

The mighty wooden doors to the palace swung open, and a figure dressed in white emerged. She would have blended in entirely with the snow had it not been for red hair blazing underneath her crown of ice and silver.

Ruenen had never seen a woman hold such command in her posture and stare. Nieve walked with elegance and authority. Strong, steady steps; gown trailing behind her. She was in her forties, Ruenen knew, but her pale face was relatively smooth, save for the black mole by her pointed nose and a few crow’s feet. Her blue eyes took in everything around her. A calculating expression Ruenen had seen many times from Marai. The queen’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as Nosficio led the way to the steps leading up the palace.

“Lord Goso, it pleases me to see you again,” Nieve said. A courteous smile slid on her face, but it didn’t reach those ice blue eyes.