Page 25 of The Shrouded Queen
They exchanged another blisteringly cold look. My ears rang in the quiet.
Keir lowered his eyes.
The king stalled a moment longer before drawing a deep breath and letting the ice melt from his expression. When he turned to me, his smile was kind. “Princess Amunet,” he greeted, Kald accent lilting.
“Queen,” Velka corrected softly.
He sighed in resignation. More disappointed by that bit of news than angry. “Right. Welcome to Frostguard, Your Majesty. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rade of Frostguard, King of Kaldfold. Please forgive my warriors for their… zeal. I hope the shackles were the worst of their treatment.” He looked pointedly at Keir, who came to stand at his right side.
“Um…” I glanced at Keir, his very presence threatening. “Yes. They treated me very well, Your Majesty.”
King Rade’s eyes dropped to the dried blood on my hands, and his smile faltered. I didn’t know if he thought it was a result of a wound perpetrated by his men or if I was about to get a firsthand look at Kaldfolk bloodlust.
But King Rade said, “As of now, the queen is under my protection.” He gazed out at the rest of the room. “Understood?”
“Yes, my king,” came the thundering response. Keir’s strange eyes met mine when he echoed, “Yes, my king.”
“You must be tired,” he said to me. “We will speak after you’ve rested. Come.” He waved for me to follow him out of the large cedarwood cabin.
The ground was slippery with a thin layer of ice. Winter was the only time Ashorah saw even the slightest bit of frost, but here, despite it being the middle of summer, the ground glittered with it. I couldn’t help but think it slightly cruel of the gods. This meager amount was enough to shimmer with hope but not enough to chip off and drink. A tease in a drought.
King Rade led me to a smaller cabin a few yards away. Cano was inside, stacking a pile of fur blankets atop a large bed. A steaming tub waited to my right. Wood popped in a fireplace against the wall opposite the door, cocooning the room in a comforting warmth. Not like the too-hot body heat of Keir’s cloak, or the pockets of warmth from the braziers in the main room. The cold of Kaldfold didn’t reach this room at all.
“The windows don’t open,” King Rade told me. “And you will be in view of the longhouse at all times. This is the safest place in all of Frostguard.”
If I weren’t still scared, I would have chuckled. I was only safe until they decided to kill me, which didn’t feel very safe at all.
Though if they were just going to kill me, why bother setting up an entire cabin for me? Why draw a bath or assemble so many blankets? Why go to the trouble?
King Rade continued, “And for added security, I’m assigning my First as your personal guard.” He gestured to Keir, who had trailed us to the cabin. “Seems only fair, since he was the one who decided to bring you here,” he added, voice full of reproach.
Keir met my eyes, and his lips curled up at the ends. I blanched. Three days in a saddle with him was more than enough time. Clearing my throat, I tried, “King Rade, I don’t—”
“Just Rade,” he corrected. “And I thought I might call you Amunet, if that’s all right?”
“I… Yes. Yes, that’s fine.”
Rade nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “Is the cabin not to your liking?”
My eyes darted to the king’s First. His friend, clearly. I didn’t want to risk offending the king by refusing his presence. “It’s perfect,” I answered instead. “Thank you.”
“Excellent. We shall speak in the morning.” Rade offered a short bow and said, “Good night, Amunet. Keir, a word.” He turned on his heel and left.
Keir met my eyes once more. Even though he was very clearly in trouble, his otherworldly eyes gleamed with amusement as he filed after Rade. Cano shut the door softly behind them. I heard a distinctclick.
Though it was useless, I tried the knob. It was indeed locked. On the other side, I heard the hiss of a heated conversation but could not decipher words through the thick wood.
Alone, I turned back to the room. Despite how toasty it was, a shiver rolled through me, and I rubbed my arms. My head was spinning as I tried to make sense of the luxuries of the room when I had expected, at best, a grimy cell. At worst, a muddy ditch in the ground.
Dying for the Gods-Chosen was frightening but easy. Suffering for her would be a bit harder—but that just meant the gods would reward me all the more in the After Realm. But playing along until I knew why Keir had brought me here and what the king planned to do with me… I couldn’t impersonate her forever. In fact, I could hardly impersonate her at all. I’d only lasted this long by staying silent.
I was nobody. A slave plucked from the slums of Ketopolis. A constant disappointment to the gods. A daughter to parents I hardly remembered. Not their names or their faces or their voices. I had no surname, no identity past Samira.
Perhaps they didn’t plan on killing Queen Amunet, but they most certainlywouldkill the insignificant girl pretending to be her.
I didn’t move from my spot by the door, didn’t approach the bed no matter how luxurious it seemed. My feet were rooted in place as the terror of the past few days caught up with me, and I burst into tears, clapping a hand over my mouth to muffle myself.
I could see the shadows of Keir’s feet under the door, where he was standing guard. If he heard Queen Amunet crying, he might grow suspicious, might warn his king that something was amiss. Queen Amunet would not cry. She would threaten to bring the might of the gods down on every last one of the Kaldfolk.
