Page 40 of Season Warriors & Wolves

Guards and a Crafter rushed into the dining room and ushered us outside, toward my father’s quarters. Smoke coiled towards the skies and all too close to the castle, signalling the attack was not far from us.

Fren screamed when something crashed against the castle walls, shaking its whole foundations and causing all paintings to fall, crash and splinter to pieces.

“Your father’s halls are protected,” the Crafter shouted, pushing us inside the open space. “Do not come out until we deal with this.”

“Deal with what?” Fren screamed, half shaking.

Today I would learn two things.

One: how afraid could father truly be?

The Crafter gave us one last shove inside. “An old creature from the Islines. The old Krigborns are attacking.”

“Cannot be,” my half-sister said. “Father said they would never. They don’t have armies. They are barbarians!”

And two: how small was an unblessed brain. Theoretically and practically.

The doors slammed shut an inch or so from my face and a bolt slapped in place along with several locks, securing us into safety and away from danger.

Now, you all might be thinking why is Snow running away from a big bad monster. Snow can take the big bad monster. Snow is not afraid of big bad monsters. Snow is stronger than big bad monsters. Snow is a bigger, much worser monster.

And I will tell you that you are quite correct.

“Where did that come from?” Fren squealed frustratingly behind me. After a minute of silence, she asked, “Shouldn't you be out there with the guards?”

I turned round to her, my smile wide. “Yes, I should be.”

Her eyes dropped to the knife I pulled from under my jacket. “What…what are you doing?” She moved behind one of her massive guards. “Don’t be stupid. You’re chained like a dog and without your precious magic.”

“Magic is overrated. And I kind of prefer it the good old bloody way.”

I had underestimated Moregan. Father had underestimated Moregan. The woman was capable of much, and in my hands, she was capable of too much. Gods knew how she had managed to sneak an Isline creature inside these walls. I was terribly curious to know. You must be, too. And so was the shadowy reflection on the bloodied blade I was holding before me.

It had been almost an hour since they had locked everyone in here alone with me, and they had yet to figure out their mistake. Or so I thought.

My excitement picked up when I heard footsteps grow louder and louder near the doors. Doors which flew open in no time by someone who knew they had been fooled.

Awestruck, my father stood there with his entourage, staring at the distance of the throne room with me perched on his bloody dais which was quite literally—bloody. His eyes dropped to the ground for a short sweeping second before they met mine again. And when our gazes clashed, I flashed him a wicked smile.

“What have you done?” He did not shout or threaten. Poor father was in shock.

“Done? Me? Nothing.” I pointed the end of my blood-stained knife at him. “What have you done?”

“Snowlin!” he roared, the whole room blistering with blue ice, crawling and draining all the heat in the room.

Stopping when I rested my foot on top of the decapitated head on the ground. “Me and you entered an agreement,” I said, lifting my wrists up in the air and shaking the chains. “This is not the first time you have chained me.”

“You will regret this, child,” he threatened, baring his teeth, “I’m glad you’ve not realised what I’m capable of, I’d love to catch you by surprise again.”

Flicking my foot back, I kicked the head and watched it roll down the throne steps and travel all the way down in front of him. The man tore his eyes away from the upper quarter of his daughter, breathing like a beast.

His threats were ageing and washing me out at this point, worse than the colour orange. “Do you know what is worse than an angry woman?” I asked, standing. “One with nothing to lose. Take away the one thing I don’t want to lose and see if you would ever be able to control me. Father, I would have let you beat and skin me ten thousand ways to hells and never even lifted a finger to help.” I pointed my knife at him again and all of his entourage jumped before him, lifting their swords in my direction. All which severely entertained me. “You went and touched him. You broke our agreement, you hurt the one thing you are using to control me. Didn’t you? Was it worth it? Did you manage to torture a groan out of him? A sigh? A plea of help? Surely one thing, right? Something worth invoking my anger for.” They had thought Mal could be broken. They didn’t know Mal had been broken long ago and there was little left to break. He would never betray his brother, his kingdom, his oath and his blessing no matter how much he loathed it. Did they even know who Mal was and what he was capable of? If there was a god I feared, it would be him, and luckily, he too was on my side.

Slowly, I descended the small set of stairs and approached him. “You will take a healer down to him. A nice one. A polite one. Next time I go down there, I’d like to see both his eyes when I talk to him.”

“You don’t know what you have done.”

We were not a foot from one another. One pair of soulless eyes gazing onto another pair of soulless eyes. “You might be a villain, father, but I am the villain.” I gestured the knife between us. “Let’s coexist. Despite the thrill it gives me to prove you a point,” I said, throwing the blade to the floor and wiping my hands on my dress, “I really don’t have the energy for it. And I don’t like half arsing things like today. You taught me to be more meticulous than this. Disappointing you is something I want to correct as your new heir. I only aim to please from now on.”