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624 pages, Paperback
First published January 13, 2022
I came here expecting to die. But I have never been, and never will be, weak.
It occurs every few decades, his arrival. He comes, steals away another of our women, takes her across the Shade for reasons unknown. Sacrifice, the stories claim. One woman to suffer so that others may live.
“All my life I cared for you,” I whisper to my sister, my twin. We shared the same womb. “It was my greatest pride, providing you a good life. There was nothing I would not do for you. Nothing. I sold my body for coin. I risked life and limb fighting darkwalkers. I hiked hundreds of miles every month searching for food. I never complained, not once in all those long, difficult years.”
“I,” I announce firmly, chin thrust out, “am a delicate flower.”
Warm laughter helps drive back the chill the room holds. “I have never heard something so untrue.”
Man and woman, mortal and god, we stare at one another, bound as one by duty, obligation, and deceit.
“You can prepare for bed without removing your clothes.” The ties at his waistband hang loose, the fabric resting uncomfortably low on his hips.
“I do not sleep in clothes.”
Did I really need to know that the Frost King sleeps in nothing but his skin?
Turning from him, I resume plumping the pillows. My palms slap the fabric aggressively. “You’re still sleeping on the floor.”
“So you are free to ogle me, but I cannot share a bed with you?”
My cheeks grow hot. My mouth can’t remember how to work properly. It takes three attempts before I’m able to speak. “I wasn’t ogling you. I was...”
“Ogling,” he finishes, sounding pleased. I don’t think the Frost King has ever sounded pleased before.
I will deny this ogling until my last breath.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he continues. “If anyone is sleeping on the floor, it’s you. You’re young. I’m many millennia old. I have back pain.”
“You do not have back pain!” I cry, whirling around. If he has back pain, then I’m a snail.
Then I notice the shape of his mouth, its subtle upward curve. “Did you just make a joke?”
Boreas turns his head so that I’m given a view of his face in profile. “I, too, know what it’s like to be alone.” His eyes lift, the blue so pure and unguarded I feel as though I am seeing him for the first time. “Maybe we can be alone together.”
Turning from him, I resume plumping the pillows. My palms slap the fabric aggressively. “You’re still sleeping on the floor.”
“So you are free to ogle me, but I cannot share a bed with you?”
My cheeks grow hot. My mouth can’t remember how to work properly. It takes three attempts before I’m able to speak. “I wasn’t ogling you. I was...”
“Ogling,” he finishes, sounding pleased. I don’t think the Frost King has ever sounded pleased before.
I will deny this ogling until my last breath.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he continues. “If anyone is sleeping on the floor, it’s you. You’re young. I’m many millennia old. I have back pain.”
“You do not have back pain!” I cry, whirling around. If he has back pain, then I’m a snail.
Then I notice the shape of his mouth, its subtle upward curve. “Did you just make a joke?”