Page 75 of Winter Gods & Serpents

I peeked back at him, half refusing to believe he called me a heathen, and then I shook from amusement holding it in a silent chuckle. He was not very keen to hold onto his living.

“What is so funny?” he demanded harshly, already weakening in patience.

“You’re not scared of me.”

“Why should I be?”

“Many reasons, darling, for one, I’m attending the funeral of the man I killed myself.”

His head snapped to me. Nothing readable on his face, nor anger nor hate, nor anything just pure blankness as he calmly asked, “You killed the lord?”

“It would not be the first one and you know it. I remember your pretty face from the trial in Kirkwall.”

He frowned. “Why?”

I shook my head. “That’s it, I don’t need a reason.”

His features pinched examining me. “How could you stand here, in front of his grave, in front of his family, console his daughter?”

I turned fully facing him opening my arms wide. “Just like this.”

“You have no fear of gods?”

“Gods have done nothing to make me afraid. Men have, and they pay.”

He scoffed shamelessly. “This life is not eternal for you to dip your hands in murder blood this easily,” he spat. “No heaven shall allow a soiled soul to step in the door of purity. Given up on the next lives, are you this content from this one alone? Keen on choosing one of the seven hells?”

“You assume I will meet a human end when you call me anything but that? I was born not to belong to any heaven, Adriatian, already violated the first rule by being born.”

He measured my words. “That is not on you.”

This time I laughed, almost too loud that my father turned halfway throwing me a stern look over his shoulder.

“Everything is on me, you did not send your people after my father who made me, you sent them after me. I was a weapon only on the hands of the man who intended to wield me, to my mother I was just a precious child who witnessed her life fade away right in front of her eyes while protecting me from being the said weapon, so excuse my heathen ways.”

He studied me for a moment, silently. “What do you believe in, princess?”

“Retaliation.”

He blew out a long exasperated breath, rubbing his eyes in frustration and fatigue. “May I ask who is on that list?”

I drew closer to him, the silver eyes following me intently as I ran my fingers along the lapels of his jacket before stopping over his chest. His heart loud below my touch, the tiny little thing that betrayed all. Hearts were a weakness. “One: front row, big crown, King of Isjord.” His eyes diverted to my father before turning to me in question. “Two: far away, bloodied crown, King of Adriata. Three: a wretched land, wretched people, Adriata.” His face drew stern lines, a tick in his jaw hammered wildly and his eyes dropped below refusing to meet mine. “Four: handsome, very handsome, looks like he wants to choke the life out of me… you.”

He grabbed my wrists pulling them down. “Don’t touch me.” His hands curled at his side as though touch me burned or prickled like thorns.

A wide smile stretched across my face. “The ybris disgust you, my touch creeping and repulsive, what does it remind you off? A eudemon? A serpent?”

“Enough,” Nia murmured in warning from my side.

“Do you know what you remind me of?” I asked raising a brow at him. “Being inside flames, feeling your skin peel and blood boil from the heat but never burn. Continuously for the past twelve years that is how I have felt, burning unburnt.” A fever dream, that was what my life became after that night, and I’d burnt on those nightmares, a non-ending run over heated embers.

“Snow, enough,” Nia repeated, putting a hand on my shoulder pulling me back. “Your father is looking, don’t give him the pleasure to see you riled from your own decision.”

Ignoring her, I neared closer to him. My chest aflame and burning in malice. “Look at me and remind yourself every moment of what I feel about your people and about you” My body vibrated; heat poured out of my every word. “Look well, Adriatian. Look well and see how I spend my retaliation.”

“I will have to watch you destroy yourself,” he grit out.

A smirk rose on my lips. “Enjoy then.” The path I chose bared no survivors. I had no intention on surviving.