As though chased by a pack of wild beasts, Salom rushes back out of the castle, every snowflake pin on his starched blue uniform glittering wildly. “I’ve made His Majesty aware—that Dante Regio is on our land,” he pants. “He grants you and your Crows—freedom of flight over Glace and—free rein to dispose of your adversary as you see fit—but he asks that no Glacins—be harmed in your scuffle.”
“What of a battalion?” Justus asks.
“We don’t need soldiers, Rossi.” Smoke wafts off Lorcan’s vambraces and pauldrons. “However, my mate’s in need of a steel sword, Konstantin. Would you be so gracious as to lend her one?”
Konstantin slides a hand beneath his fur cloak and extricates a dagger that makes my blood run cold. “My sister will no longer be needing this.” He holds it out to me.
The diamonds set in the delicate pattern of a snowflake blind me.
“Consider it a gift from our kingdom to yours.”
If Konstantin only knew what Bronwen had foreseen, he would neither give me this weapon nor would he call it a gift.
Since I find myself incapable of seizing the proffered blade, Lorcan lifts it from the crown prince’s hand. “You’ve our gratitude, Konstantin.”
The prince nods, my tangible agitation drawing his eyebrows low.
A soldier jogs out to Salom and his prince, kicking up clumps of snow. When he reaches them, he bows, then speaks in Glacin.
“Olena said that the Lucin general enquired after a sleigh maker. She says he was interested in purchasing a few to bring home to Luce.”
The news whittles Konstantin’s already sharp jaw until it becomes as bladed as the steel dagger Lore holds at his side. “Was a purchase made?”
“I’ve dispatched soldiers to the factory to find out, Vizoshtsa.”
“Where is this factory?” Lore asks.
The soldier peeks at Lorcan, then blinks and falls back a step. I’m guessing he’s just realized in whose presence he stands. “A little ways inland from the Ice Floe Market, Your Majesty.”
“Name?” my father barks.
“Denys.”
“Not yours,” Salom grunts with an eyeroll.
“Oh. Volkov and Sons.” Denys trembles like an autumn leaf barely clinging to the branch.
“Call back your soldiers.” The wind tangles in Lore’s black hair. “We’ll be quicker by air.”
Lore begins to break into more shadows but firms when Konstantin asks, “Why did Regio come here?”
“He came for the runestone. I believe he stayed because he knows your kingdom. Didn’t he do his military training in Glace?” Lorcan’s eyes glow a deep amber.
Without meaning to, I slip into his mind. His thoughts burst with such brutality and gore that I lurch out and whirl my gaze back onto Konstantin, whose mind I cannot stumble into. Thank Gods, for I’ve no doubt that his skull is also filled with atrocious scenes.
“Perhaps he believed he still had a chance to pocket an alliance with your kingdom,” Lore continues. “Especially since Alyona is with child.His, I presume.”
I blink at Lore.You know this for a fact, or are you bluffing?
I could hear a second heartbeat when I carried her earlier. As for the father, I can only assume it’s Dante’s.
The Glacin Prince squares his shoulders. “There’s no more baby.” Though his voice is toneless, his flaring nostrils betray the effect Alyona’s miscarriage had on him.
I suck in a breath. The air is so frosty that it scorches my lungs. Did she lose the babe because of the steel blade her brother ran over her face, or did her father find out and command the child be removed?
I may loathe the ice princess, but I’d never wish this sort of heartache on her. To think this is our fault. If we hadn’t come—
Don’t. Besides, Behach Éan, if the baby had survived, then Meriam’s curse would’ve endured and the Cauldron would’ve remained locked. Would you really have preferred taking the child’s life yourself?
