The air changes.
A cold wind rolls off his skin. Frost cracks outward from his boots, racing across the floor and climbing the copper tub. The water around my legs chills so suddenly I gasp and leap out just as a sheet of ice forms across the surface.
“Do not mistake this offering for kindness,” he growls through his teeth. “I am protecting my investment. I intend to get years of service from you before your brief life ends.”
He sweeps a cold gaze around the room.
“This room will keep your fragile body from freezing to death. But remember why you are here and remember what is at stake if you test my patience.” His voice deepens. “I am Lord Frostwyn. I am the winter, and until your father’s debt is paid, you belong to me.”
He strides through the doorway, and the door slams shut behind him in a violent gust. The cold leaves with him, sucked out as if he dragged it along in his wake.
Still I gasp for breath. It is not only the cold this male carries. It is power, raw and ancient, the kind that could bring kingdoms to their knees with a single word.
And I hate that I feel so small beneath it.
I stand there for a long moment, shivering even after the cold drains from the room. When my legs finally stop trembling, I wander toward the bed where the emerald-colored winter clothes have been laid out. The garments are nothing like the rough wool and patched coats from home. These are beautifully made. Thick, soft fabrics stitched with golden thread. Even the gloves are trimmed with tiny beads that catch the firelight.
They are worth more than our entire farm.More than everything my father and I ever owned.
My jaw tightens as outrage rises in my chest. Luceran threatens my father, threatens to let him starve or freeze if I displease him, yet he has clothes like this hidden in a wardrobe he does not even use. Clothes so fine they could feed a village for a year.
He could have spared my father. Given us more time, even forgiven our debt. He could have helped without asking for my life in return.
Then I remember. He is Fae. Fae cannot be trusted. Fae are wicked.
My hands shake as I pull on the dress, then the coat, then the gloves. I braid my red hair over one shoulder. When everything is finally in place, I take a steadying breath.
I will survive this. I have no choice but to survive this. I step into the corridor.
The Fae female is waiting for me, hands clasped behind her back as her eyes sweep over my new clothes.
She inclines her head.
“Come,” she says. “I will show you the castle.”
We move quickly through the corridor, her steps light and swift while I nearly jog to keep up. Once again, I notice the empty spaces on the walls, faint rectangular shadows where portraits once hung.
“Where are the paintings that were here?” I ask, breath short as I hurry after her.
She does not slow. She does not look at me. Her voice floats back over her shoulder.
“Lord Frostwyn ordered their removal.” A clipped exhale escapes her. “All portraits of Lady Frostwyn were taken away.”
I swallow hard. That makes sense. Why keep reminders of a wife you murdered? A flash of my dream sparks behind my eyes, of ice cracking, of sinking, of Luceran watching.
“I know what you are thinking,” the female says sharply as she turns a corner.
I rush to follow, but when I step around the corner she is already there, standing perfectly still. I skid to a halt before crashing into her. We stand inches apart, her bright blue eyes boring through me.
“You are one of those humans who believes Lord Luceran murdered her, are you not? His staff too?” She tips her head toward the nearest window, toward the frozen lake stretching out in the distance. “Out there.”
A lump like a rock lodges in my throat. I shake my head too quickly. “No. Of course not.”
Her smirk is small and cutting, a gesture that feels uncomfortably familiar. “Does he frighten you, child?”
I force my spine straight, lifting my chin higher than I feel. “Nothing frightens me.”
She laughs softly at that, a sound warm in tone but cold in meaning. “Maybe you should be frightened. Maybe youshouldbelieve the things you hear.” She leans close, her breath brushing my cheek. “This place will be the end of you, just as it was the end of her.” Her gaze sharpens. “They should never have dug so deep.”
