Page 18 of Winter Gods & Serpents

“He misses you,” I offered. “I did too.”

His hand fell on my shoulder and he offered a short smile. “I suppose it’s my time to have you for a while then.”

“I suppose so.”

We parted moments later to head for the Winter garden to meet with father. The wide bushes hid their green under frost, the only colour was that of buds peaking from blanket of white. Red for miles ahead, only red and white. Once Isjord knew clear skies and visible greenery but now everything buried under thick cold blessing of their Winter god.

Nia stood back and said in warning, “Behave.”

“If I have to do something I don’t like, the least I can be allowed is an attitude.” Annoyed, I flicked the snow from my shoulders. How I disliked the blessed thing.

“I wish it was the attitude I worried about.” She held out her hand. “Your daggers, please.”

I frowned. “But…they come with my attitude.” She didn’t back down, and given up I handed them to her. “You are getting like Alaric. One cranky old man is enough in this family.”

“Your attitude seems fine without them, now go before I confiscate your tongue.”

He was already waiting for me, tall against the snow coated rose bushes, the dark attire contrasting the white of all.

He turned noticing my presence. “With Krig’s blessings, to Hodr heaven, my child.”

To Caligo’s burning hells you wicked bastard, might they welcome you. Simply I bowed without returning the greeting, taking Nia’s advice not to end up in a dungeon. Stomach twisting that was, the pretend belief of his. With belief came fear of the divine, which he had none.

He smiled stiffly, planting his hands on either side of my arms. The false exaggerated affection made me wince and I tried to shake his hands, but the grip was firm. “For a moment I thought Serene walked through that door this morning, you look very much like her,” he said without hesitation. Mention of my mother’s name made me freeze. I hated hearing her name from his mouth. He did not deserve to speak her name or of her, not to mention everything he had done after she had birthed useless children, and the unforgettable pain she carried when he had massacred her family along with the rest of her kingdom. It had sent her in crying fits at least once a few days. She never had a chance to mourn them, give her last goodbyes or even bury them. My mother held so much guilt along with the pain, she had always felt fault at what had happened.

“Though that behaviour, I hold Alaric responsible, and he will answer for it,” he spat in a threat. “Nothing we cannot fix.” His condescending words made my blood boil and my eyes rose to meet his, every gaze onto them made me want to scoop my own out. He had mentioned my mother’s name, my precious mother’s name casually as though he had not been the cause of her pain and demise, insulted and threatened the only person I ever considered my father and now he is treating me like a broken doll in his playhouse.

Thunder echoed loudly in the horizon and he tilted his head towards the sky just as lightning landed mere feet away from us.

“Unhand me, father,” I ordered composedly. His attention switched to me and his hands dropped but before he could step away, I inched closer. My nails dug in my palms drawing blood from the wounds from last night, a shudder of pain coursed all over my body; my grounding was pain, it kept me still.

I flicked my fingers over where he’d touched me. “Spare me the theatrics, if you want something from me I advise you speak away before you bore my wits to death.”

Shocked at my words he laughed and crossed his arms, as if my behaviour did not bother him. “You will never let this go, will you? But that matters very little to me and you know that,” he said flatly, a vile smile snaking across his face almost amused.

“Expecting nothing less, I have been raised to always expect the worst from you, given your love for a dramatic scale of actions.” Actions that sent an entire kingdom to extinction, my mother to a painfully dreadful marriage, her and my siblings to their deaths and two countries to hostility.

He studied me before turning to survey the garden, the calmness in his stature sent chills of anxiousness down my limbs. “I have promised a deal with the king of Adriata.”

“What of it involves me?” I queried shocked at the mention of my family’s killer.

“Twelve years is a long time for two kingdoms to remain hostile, with war expectant at any moment,” his voice dark as he reached plucking out a red rose. “For our countries to join unity once more, establishment of peace and our people to freely live amongst both, your hand in marriage.”

My features widened as I faced him, too horrified and stunned to even believe what my ears just heard. This was the reason of my return? To sell me to the night king? It couldn’t be? My father bargaining agreements with Adriata? My father bargaining me?

“What?” I shouted and thunder grew louder pulling his attention towards the sky once more as though he had not heard my question.

“Isjord is not what it once was,” he said all mellow. “Winters are growing wilder, my lands colder, my people impatient, their belief weaker. The Ianuris agreement will soon change that. You are a sacrifice I will make to solve it.”

I laughed gutturally from years of resent, disdain and pain that had coated my existence. My purpose had returned once more. No, I’d never stopped being his pawn. “Such a difficult sacrifice for you, your black heart must be leaking tar. Should have sired more daughters, could have had the whole of Numengarth in your hands had you sold us off like cattle to everyone you intended to butter their arse in exchange for silks and spices.”

A smirk rose in his lips as he plucked the thorns out of the rose he held in his hands. “You’re a diamond I found out was only coal, but even coal can burn to become useful.”

“If I refuse? Where is the threat, you should have already spent it?” He could have not expected me to accept into this madness. I would not. Not for a thousand lifetimes would I wed that monster.

A wicked grin spread wide, my resistance amusing him. “Myrdur. The precious land that you adore. Vrammethen has offered an interesting sum for it, it is still mine after all.”

Was this why he had sent his men? “Isjord has not claimed its lands, it cannot,” I insisted.