Page 71 of Winter Gods & Serpents

Memphis suddenly slithered and curled onto her lap. She stroked a hand over the ghastly animals head all pleased. “You will find that I am more creative in my pursuits, death doesn’t please me as much as demise.”

I should have felt relief but she’d put me in a perpetual state of anxiety.

The meeting begun all noise. Complaints from the Isjordian side were with continuous concern of a repeated attack alike the one twelve years ago. They were in all right to their dismay. Three thousand one hundred and twenty-seven. The number of innocents dead from our irrationality. Stregor and my aunt had not revealed the collateral damage that their actions would follow. Blind from their fear, they’d never considered or repented for the lives lost.

“I’d prefer the wall to stay up,” Lord of Venzor expressed.

“It will stay up,” my aunt countered, lowering her specs to examine him. “It’s a big wall.”

“Ivar,” Albius called, interrupting the ready to spew venom Ivar rested on his lips. “The agreement has been voted for a pass. Let us not waste time in idle opinions.” He turned to my aunt. “I believe you have agreed on the crafter seal to remain.”

“Yes,” she said. “And the joined guard in the borders.”

“We have an identification policy within our walls as I am sure you are well aware,” a young lord said handing a handful of documentation to my aunt. “Your people will be able to travel undisturbed through our lands but entering our cities will prove a difficulty if they have no identification to show.”

She nodded. “We are aware, our citizens are already provided with such.”

The conversation was led by Albius who carried respect above his dislike far better than rulers. A wise man with peaceful manner of leading. Rejection and approval, one after the other rolled over the table, but I was glad there were even such discussions. Finally, my kind’s freedom was being spoken about and soon to be reality.

She had not said anything, not a word, not a reaction but silent unblinking and after everyone left, she’d stood almost still and unbreathing without moving in the empty meeting room.

“Cakes,” Caiden called, after the sun drooped and defeated by angry thunder clouds.

She took a deep breath and stood, stalking out of the room. Hands tightly curled at her side, and I saw it, what had been hidden under the table, their tremble. Why was she trembling? Anger? Want to hurt? Inability to contain herself?

“What is it with you?” I called, chasing after her.

Her steps did not halt, but she flexed her fingers open no longer trembling. “Oh mighty heroes of the realm, you made me evil, yet it surprises you when evil gives you evil back.”

“To be toying with millions of lives is not a game.”

She halted then, turning to me. “Who said it was a game?”

“You want war, destruction?”

She smirked. “Adriatian, don’t turn me on. That would not be a game you would like.”

I grit my jaw tight and swallowed the venom my brain had gathered to spit at her. “This is serious.”

She took a step forward, now head-to-head with me. “And this is your work.”

I reached close enough she had to tilt her head to meet my gaze. “Answer should not have to be death.”

She pointed a finger to my chest. “Then the question should have not been murder.”

A sword came between the two of us. “That boundary might need to be applied right about now,” Caiden said, patting the side of it to my chest.

Loud hooves halted just near us and then a panting figure approached. A familiar one.

“Nia,” the princess called surprised at the sudden presence of her friend.

She breathed quickly. “He is dead, Snow. He is dead.”

Chapter 17

Mourners and Martyrs

Snowlin