Then I walk away, leaving him to rot.
Because that isexactlywhat he did to me.
CHAPTER 42
QUEEN MALINA
It’s been several days, andyet smoke from the fae corpses still pollutes the air. The scent of burned bodies is foul enough as it is, but the scent ofrottedburned bodies? Absolutely atrocious.
I look out at the land beyond. It was already an ugly, broken place, but now, the snow is coagulated with clots of Ravinger’s rot. I trudge out of the ruins of Cauval Castle, where rot lines crawl up its outer walls like dead vines. My hand presses against the borrowed scarf that’s wrapped around my nose and mouth to help me breathe past the stench.
Dommik pilfered from the bodies of the fae to get us more supplies before he started working his way through burning them. He presses flame to each prostrate form, ridding the land of their rotted corpses. We have plenty of food for the time being—but my appetite has soured with the smell.
I’ve instead been keeping busy with fortifying the bridge. Yet so far, no other fae have tried to come across. The bridge of Lemuria remains clear, and Seventh Kingdom empty.
Except for the dead, of course.
Today, I’m in a thick woolen dress and fleece leggings, with a furred collar at my throat and cuffs at my wrists. Dommik tells me it’s much more practical for me to wear trousers, but I feel more myself in my dresses. Even if they are more difficult to manage when I walk through the thick snow.
When I reach the end of the path and stop in front of the bridge, I eye my fortifications critically. It’s certainly better than what I managed at Highbell.
Unlike the attack on my city, I’ve had more time here.
I’ve also had the opportunity to continuously improve and add to them. Because I know that this is only a reprieve. More fae will come, it’s just a matter of time. So I have to be ready.
The pillars that stand on either side of the bridge have been extended with ice, reaching twenty feet high. But that’s as close as the bridge will allow my magic to work. I quickly learned that no matter what I do, my ice power can’t touch the bridge itself.
I don’t know if it repels all magic or if it perhaps has something to do specifically with mine. After all, we were both reborn at the same time, and with my blood.
To be perfectly honest, a part of me is relieved my ice power doesn’t work on the bridge itself. I walked on it for a few steps after King Ravinger had disappeared down its foggy depths. Yet after only a few paces down the drab, unnatural dirt, I started to get a sense of utter wrongness. As if I didn’t belong there and it wanted me off.
I didn’t dare test it.
I turned right back around, safe on Seventh’s snowy soil, and then I got to work. My barrier now blocks the entrance, from the pillars of the bridge to the very first inch of Seventh’s land. I’ve created several layers, arcing them from left to right. This way, if the fae break through one part, it won’t destroy theentire thing in one fell swoop like what happened in Highbell. It will give me more time to refortify, and give Dommik more time to assassinate. After all, the bridge is only so wide. It cannot fit more than two or three fae across at a time.
I’ve made the ground slick and slippery, and right now, I have six layers of defenses erected. Each one differs slightly, some with sharp icicles like spikes that jut out, some riddled with shards, while others are simply thick slabs.
I’m hoping that each layer is dense enough to sustain against either physical or magical force by the fae. Yet as I eye the rounded layer I worked on yesterday, I frown at the cracks that have formed from the weight. I must have made this one too tall. The structure is weakened because of it.
I need to fix it.
Drawing back the fur-lined hood from my face, I call up my icy magic. I don’t have enough power to completely tear the barrier down and start again, because this took me all day. So instead, I try to mend the cracks, pressing my palms against each one, hoping to fill the little crevices.
I lose track of time as I travel from one end to the other, not even noticing that it’s nearly dusk when I feel a hand on my shoulder that makes me jump in fright.
“It’s me, Queenie,” Dommik murmurs as I whirl around with a sharpened icicle raised in my fist. When he sees it, his brows lift. “Nicely done.” He presses his gloved finger to its tip, and then clicks his tongue when it doesn’t pierce through to his skin. “If you’re going to try and stab me with ice, make sure it’s sharp enough to do the job.”
My eyes narrow as I toss away the icicle and yank down the scarf from my face. “It’s not myjobto kill anyone. Unlike you, assassin.”
His mouth twitches. “At least your tongue is plenty sharp.”
I pin him with a stare.
Unmoved, Dommik’s gaze travels to the block wall I’ve been working on. “You’re out here again?”
I turn and let my attention trace along the filled-in fissures. “It was cracking. I needed to fix it.”
“You’ve been working on this every waking minute.”
