Her husband, the king and rightful ruler of Grelta, was nowhere to be found, but two adolescent children appeared on either side of Nieve, both with equally alarming red hair. The boy was older, whip-thin with none of the imposing presence of his mother. His sister, a head shorter and willowy, hid behind the queen.

Nieve reached out a hand. Several large, glittering jewels graced her slender fingers. Goso kissed her hand with a ceremonious bow.

“You are as beautiful as always, Your Grace,” he oozed.

Nieve removed her hand from his grasp, without acknowledging the compliment. Her eyes honed in on Ruenen. Her shoulders shifted, her chin raised, as she beheld him. Her intense eyes grazed him up and down, leaving Ruenen feeling exposed, stripped naked.

“My children,” Nieve said, gesturing behind her. “Crown Prince Hiver and Princess Elurra.”

Both red-headed young royals bowed and curtsied with effortless grace. They were far more polished than Ruenen was, and they were almost half his age.

“May I present his Royal Highness, Prince Ruenen Avsharian,” Goso announced in a bold voice for all to hear, stepping down to allow room for Ruenen.

A man Ruenen hadn’t noticed before shifted closer to the queen. He wore a white full-face mask and a gray cloak. Something about his hunched posture was familiar. Ruenen couldn’t place it.

“You’re a plucky one, aren’t you?” Nieve asked; her lilting voice was a seductive caress across his cheeks. This was a woman who had power and knew how to wield it. “Your first note was unconventional. Your second note, even more so. How ever did you manage to arrive here so quickly? And without any of my sentries alerting me to your passage.”

Her gaze drifted to Marai and Aresti.

She knows. Nosficio told her about the fae. Her daughter peered at Marai and Aresti from around Nieve’s shoulder with round blue eyes.

However, it was the hunched man whom Nieve looked to for confirmation. The white mask bobbed up and down as he nodded. That was when Ruenen recognized him. This was the man who’d hired Marai to give a “warning” to Nosficio in Iniquity.

“This is my Master of Spies,” Nieve said, gesturing to the man. The hunchback bowed awkwardly.

“I’m pleased and honored to meet you all,” Ruenen said, not trying to hide his shiver as he kissed her bejeweled hand. “Could we continue this inside, in more pleasurable temperatures?”

“My apologies, we of the North have thick skin. Sometimes we forget that not everyone is accustomed to the cold,” Nieve said, her smile widening. Then her eyes drifted to Nosficio, standing to the side of the King’s Guards. Her face grew serious. The Master of Spies tensed behind his mask. “If you’re taking responsibility for the vampire, I must demand that he remain on his best behavior. He claims to be your emissary.”

“He’ll behave,” Nosficio stated. “He ate dinner an hour ago.” He licked his lips again.

Nieve watched the movement and didn’t shy away from it. Instead, her eyes darkened. The frozen air suddenly felt close and heavy.

Nieve turned and glided inside the castle, her white gown and children trailing. Ruenen and Goso followed first. Marai, Aresti, Nosficio, and the guards hung back, granting space to the lords and royalty as they walked into the nearest chamber. The prince and princess excused themselves, and went up one of the various staircases, followed by a handful of courtiers.

Nieve’s council room housed two silver and white bone thrones. Her council, in robes of ivory and robin’s-egg blue, were as tall, fair, and broad as most Northerners. They bowed as Nieve took a seat in one of the thrones.

“My husband will join us shortly. He cannot stay for long, but he does want to be cognizant of the discussions.”

Curiosity tapped against Ruenen’s brain. The King of Grelta was mysterious. No one ever saw him. He didn’t make public appearances, at least not for many years.

Nieve crossed one leg over the other and sat back in her throne. “You keep interesting company, Prince Ruenen. Not only women, but faeries and vampires, at that.”

Behind him, Ruenen heard the shifting of feet and clothes and armor. He imagined Marai’s hand moving to Dimtoir.

“I keep worthy company,” he said, sharpening his words with warning. “Everyone standing with me has the same goal to defeat King Rayghast.”

“How did you garner such loyalty from a race of people we have been at war with for centuries?” Nieve asked, arching a graceful eyebrow.

Ruenen scowled, spine stiffening. His pulse throbbed in his neck.

“Relax, Prince. I don’t fear or despise magical folk the way most people do. If I’m to send my troops to your war, I want to know more about why you are so trustworthy.”

Pain flared in his jaw as Ruenen clenched his teeth. Why, indeed . . .

“Because he views the world through open eyes.” Marai’s voice, sharp as a blade, sliced through the air.

Ruenen’s heart galloped against his ribcage in response.

“Because he trusts us.” Marai came to Ruenen’s side. Her arm grazed his, sending sparks up and down his skin. “He values life, no matter whose it is.”

Nieve stared at Marai, unflinching.

“This is Lady Marai,” Ruenen said; the words came out hoarse and thick. “She’s my personal guard, most honest advisor, and closest friend.”

Friend hardly described what Marai was to him. If he looked at her now, Ruenen knew he would damn all the people in the room and sweep Marai into his arms. The memory of Marai’s lips nearly brought him to his knees . . .

Instead, Ruenen focused on Nieve, whose face betrayed nothing. A mask of calm.

A door opened on the side of the chamber, and two figures entered. The smallest of the two leaned on the arm of the broad man at his side. The smaller shook from head to toe; each step was arduous, tentative. His gaunt face was tightly scrunched, as if concentrating hard, but his jaw twitched. His body was hunched, frail, and in constant, uncontrollable motion.

Nieve stood fluidly. “Ah, Husband, please welcome our guests Prince Ruenen of Nevandia, Lord Goso, and Lady Marai of the fae.”

The King of Grelta was slowly ushered up the stairs to his throne. The barrel-chested servant at his arm helped him sit gently down upon the cushion. Even sitting, the king jerked, not once calming to stillness.

King Maes stammered something quietly to his wife. She smiled warmly, giving his knee a pat. It was the first time her smile met her eyes. She whispered back to him before she faced the room.

“His Grace, my husband, is happy you’re here. He regrets his late arrival. It’s difficult for him to get anywhere in a timely fashion,” she explained to the Nevandian entourage.

Ruenen tried to hide his shock at the sickly king before him. This is why Nieve rules the kingdom. Why she welcomes others into her bed. 

Nieve placed a hand on her husband’s quivering arm. “You’re here to forge an alliance, Prince Ruenen.​​ Your friendship and trust with magical folk is admirable. No other ruler would be so bold. But it’s in fact Lady Marai’s words that convinces me to grant you the aid you seek.” Nieve stood and stepped down the dais. Her blue eyes scoured Ruenen’s face, as if searching for his weakness. “We’re a non-traditional kingdom here, Prince Ruenen.” Nieve gestured behind her to the king, who watched with bright, interested eyes. “Our king is ill, so I, a woman, must rule in his stead. Other kingdoms and empires on Astye doubt us. Scorn us. Consider us weak.” 

Ruenen heard the subtle message. Men doubted her, a female ruler, a woman with power on a continent that granted few rights for “the weaker sex.”

“I spent many months here in Grelta before I took the throne,” Ruenen said. “Only a fool would look at your people and see weakness. They are hearty, determined, and resourceful. The women even more so.”

Nieve’s eyebrow twitched; she liked his response. “King Rayghast is abhorrent. I’ve heard how he treats his wives and female subjects. I know what torture he’s so fond of in those dungeons.” The elegant planes of Nieve’s face grew severe and harsh. “He sends his troops onto my land, pillaging my towns and hurting my people, without an ounce of respect for our borders. When his council sought my daughter’s hand for marriage, I refused. I wouldn’t let her be shackled to such a despicable man. Since then, I’ve felt Rayghast’s resentment breathing down my neck. Because I slighted him, I know Grelta will be the first after Nevandia on his trail of conquest. He doesn’t deserve to rule, and I certainly won’t allow him to conquer my territory.

“And Nosficio tells me of these so-called shadow creatures. He claims Rayghast created these violent beasts using some type of magic.” Nieve’s chest rose with contempt. In a loud, commanding voice, she continued. “He’s despicable, and a threat to all Nine Kingdoms. It is for these reasons, Prince Ruenen, that King Maes and I agree to ally with you.”

Ruenen let out an un-princely sigh of relief. Goso murmured his approval, nodding voraciously with his assistant and the Greltan council members.

“Of course, we cannot send all our troops to Nevandia,” Nieve said. “Eight hundred mounted cavalry should suffice. We must maintain defenses here along our borders. And our alliance should be forged with steel: treaties and trade guaranteed. And also marriage.”

Ruenen froze.

Nieve chuckled. “Oh, don’t look so frightened, Prince. Our daughter is but thirteen, and too young for you. I don’t believe in giving girls away as brides for political gain. No, we will find proper matches when the time is right between members of our courts. Perhaps when you have an heir of your own.”