At first, nothing. Just the drugging pulse of blood in my eardrums. But then a low, rattling hiss sounds beyond the door. One, two, three heartbeats later, I smell it: smoke.
Every pore, every hair, every sliver of awareness narrows on the reek I would recognize anywhere.
Backing away slowly, I let my mind unspool, but only for a moment. If the darkwalker has breached the citadel wards, no one is safe.
I snatch up my bow and quiver, snagging an arrow and dipping it in my salt satchel, coating the iron point in the only substance that standsbetween me and a fate worse than death. Nocking the arrow, I point it at the door. Is there one beast, or do more stalk the grounds? Where are the guards? Where is the Frost King? Wouldn’t he know if the protections had failed, or has something happened to him?
A rumble vibrates the air. I prepare myself for the moment of splintering wood, a collapsed doorway. But the creature paces past my door before moving on. I remember the specters. They, too, are at risk. If the darkwalker finds Orla…
Bounding for the door, I swing it open in time to spot the beast disappearing around a corner. On silent feet I track it, hurrying after the shadowy impression. A strike through the heart. It’s the only way to kill a darkwalker aside from severing its head.
At the next turn, I slow. One of the doors stands ajar, its face a collective patchwork of colored glass.
Pushing into the room, I stop short. Every inch of the colossal space is filled to the rafters with various species of bird. But—no sign of the darkwalker. Only birdsong.
Turning back, I race down the hallway. I keep to the main corridor, turn left, and stop.
Four guards block my way forward. Cracked pillars hewn from dust-coated ebony brace the crumbling ceiling. In the distance, the ground has ruptured, as though the earth gave a great heave, leaving ruin in its wake.
The forbidden north wing.
“Where is it?” I demand, gasping hard. “Where did it go?” Sweat slithers down my face despite the chilly air.
They stare at my drawn weapon, my nightgown, as if I have gone mad.
The tallest of the guards asks, “Where is what, my lady?”
“The darkwalker.”
A brief, wordless exchange between the men. “My lady,” one says, “there are no darkwalkers in the citadel. My lord has warded it against them.”
“Then you’ll be interested to learn the wards have been breached, because I just saw one. Did it come this way? Did you see it?” Darkwalkers are known for their ability to merge into shadows unseen, essentially rendering themselves invisible, but I had hoped there was enough light from the wall sconces to prevent that from happening.
They don’t look concerned. They barely look awake, as it is.
“My lady. It is late. Perhaps you were dreaming?”
“Is there a problem?”
I startle at the Frost King’s voice, whirling around to watch him stride from the gloomy corridor I just passed through. He takes in my nocked arrow, the blood dripping from my palm, my legs bare beneath my short nightgown, which he lingers on.
“There’s a darkwalker,” I manage, lowering my weapon. “Somewhere in the citadel.”
His expression becomes a blade upon a whetting stone, sharpening into an edge. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. I smelled it from my room. It ran down this corridor, but I lost track of it.”
He appears conflicted—he believes me, but he also doubts me. “The wards are impenetrable. Nothing may enter the gates or cross over the wall unless I will it—”
“Stop.” Sharp and a little aggressive. I’ve not the patience to attempt a smoother tone. “I don’t need you to tell me what you believe or what is. I need you tolisten.” At this moment, it is the smallest, most important thing. “Can you do that?”
He holds himself stiffly. “I’m trying—”
“Try harder.”
The Frost King looks to my hand, white-knuckled around the curved wood of the bow. Not for the first time, I sense that he sees much, despite saying little.
“All right,” he concedes. “I will have my men investigate. For your own safety, do not leave your room for the rest of the night. I will send Orla once it is clear.” To my surprise, he falls into step besideme, accompanying me back to my chambers. My blood, which is quite valuable to him, likely needs protection.
