Frost and Death (The Last of the Heirs #1)

10

Marriage is what

brings us—

“If you keep up with that pacing, you’ll run down the stone, Tove,” Betina chimes when she enters my bedchamber.

I ignore her. I barely slept, fearful Niko would change his mind at the last minute.

Every person dreams of the day they get married, but here I am, crippled with doubt and believing I will fall face-first onto the marble floor.

Sweet Makers.

Every sensation devours my nerves, making me incapable of calming my own racing thoughts. They drift to the other reason I couldn’t sleep. Images of how today might have gone with my family.

My mother would have picked the perfect crown and jewelry accessories to wear while she and Runa would argue over how I should style my hair.

They both would be filled with joy as I revealed my wedding gown.

Then my father would check in, and his entire face would light up with excitement at seeing me.

I can almost feel his arms wrapping around me now as he would whisper, I am so proud of you.

A teardrop cascades down my cheek, followed by another and then another. They blur my vision as my head slumps, my hands covering my face.

“Deities, why can’t I feel the one emotion I’m supposed to feel on my wedding day? Why can’t I stop thinking of them?”

A warm hand touches my arm, Betina easing me to her. Her aura lights up the entire room. Her dark skin glows in the sunlight from my bedchamber window as her voluminous black hair, pulled half-back, frames her face with tight curls.

I don’t resist wrapping my arms around her and squeezing tight.

Her steady heartbeat in tandem with her sweet, spiced scent soothes me as the panic quiets in my head.

“They are watching you from above, my dear friend,” Betina soothes. “I loved your sister and parents as much as anyone did, and I know they are beyond proud of everything you’ve accomplished here. You have been given a kingdom and magic none of your ancestors have had. And you’re doing the best you can regardless, still getting out of bed every morning.”

I sniff, always finding it hard to believe someone truly means that. Every time anyone says something encouraging, it sounds like pity or is just a reminder of how terrible a queen I am.

“But I am unable to remove my magic or melt the ice. I am still hurting my kingdom. It is no wonder everyone hates me. My parents would share the people’s sentiments, too.”

She shakes me. “Stop. You are doing everything in your power to accommodate your kingdom. Those who are closest to you know that. Those who are not close to you can fuck right off. Let them try to harness magic when they find themselves alone after learning their last family member is dead. You are growing into your role with each new day, and I know the same will happen with your magic. It’s going to get better.”

Betina’s brown eyes stare into mine with deep intensity. Compassion oozes from her, and I grimace, uncomfortable with where this has escalated.

“It’s your wedding day, Tove. Be happy.”

I stare out my window at the sun beaming through a few clouds and shining into my room. My lungs expand as my sobs slow, allowing my breathing to regulate.

“I know they are watching over me,” I whisper softly. “I just wish they were here.”

Confessing my grief is always difficult, but Betina takes it in stride, holding my hand and squeezing.

I meet her fierce gaze.

“I know, Tove. I know. But we have done everything together to honor their memory for your special day. You look beautiful, and you will be even more beautiful when you bring a smile to your face. I doubt Niko wants to see his future bride sad,” she soothes.

“I don’t think anyone wants to see me sad.”

Betina snorts and squeezes my hand as we face my vanity.

She reaches for my mother’s small mirror, her violet tulle gown dragging lightly on the floor. Her bell sleeves are sheer with tight cuff links threaded with silver. The bodice enhances her curves, and the full skirt draped with purples and periwinkles.

It’s truly a masterpiece, and I’m half tempted to ask her if I can wear it.

She extends the mirror to me, and I tuck it in my pocket while I take in my appearance for the first time.

Pure white lacework lines the bodice, with a rounded neckline around the chest and bound by buttons on the side. The gown descends outward from the waist, allowing the layers of varying shades of pale blue to glimmer in the lining, creating an illusion for those viewing it near and far.

“It is exquisite,” I breathe out, my love of fashion impressed by my wedding gown’s beauty.

“It’s meant for you.”

Betina’s voice wobbles thick with emotion.

I nod slowly, unable to remove my eyes from the gown itself. I know my own features and have no desire to ruin this moment gazing upon them.

If I do, I might start crying again.

I graze the fabric of my dress delicately, seeking to commit this image to my memory. My nerves fight between staying in this room and walking down the aisle.

Even when Betina gathers my train and tulle cape, anxiety cripples my heart in a teetering, taunting melody.

I clench my mother’s mirror, holding it for support, wishing Runa were beside me and my father was here to walk me down the aisle.

I brace myself against the tremors rippling through me as we exit my bedchamber. The arched hallways reach a shorter intersection, showing the pathway down the stairs.

Betina remains behind me, encouraging me onward, anxiety growing with each step as reality sets in.

I am getting married.

I peer over my shoulder at my lady-in-waiting.

“Betina? Do you—do you think this is right?” Fear and doubt are circling my mind, trying to convince me to run in the opposite direction. “I—I don’t know if—”

“Tove, it’s going to be alright. Remember what I said earlier.” She eases my concerns.

I rub my hands together, fidgeting with my cuticles as we continue.

Dread still sinks deep into my gut as we pass portraits of my ancestors.

As we inch closer to the ballroom, I come to a stop in front of the painting of my family. Gazing at it, I take in the stoic gaze of my father’s hazel eyes and his graying hair.

My mother’s silver locks are up, similar to mine, as she also wears the look of stoicism.

Runa and I, in our younger years, haven’t seen the toll royalty would take, and we plaster huge grins on our faces.

I walk up to the portrait, touching each face, wishing they could see everything now.

I wonder what they really think of me.

Betina is quiet, and I am grateful for her silent support as I fight through my grief.

I pray nothing comes of today. I haven’t had a magic scare since the celebrations, and I can only hope it stays that way.

I want my parents to be proud of me for not fucking one thing up.

Lingering on Runa, my entire body cracks from missing her.

Dropping my head, I veer away from my mourning, approaching the doors to the ballroom.

I tilt my head in surprise when I catch Bernie and his daughter, Princess Vivienne, lingering at the entrance.

They turn, the king beaming and extending his arms for an embrace. “Queen Tove, you look absolutely beautiful!”

“Thank you, Bernie. Not as beautiful as your daughter, though,” I admit, smiling in his embrace.

Vivienne bows her head in thanks as her father speaks, “You both are beautiful in my book.”

Betina lowers my train, fanning it out as she asks the King of Belmur, “Do you have her from here?”

I lift an eyebrow in confusion, Bernie’s features turning stoic.

“I have her from here,” he says.

Princess Vivienne and Betina curtsy to me, then bow to the King of Belmur before they enter the ballroom, smiling.

“What do you mean, Bernie?” I ask in confusion.

“Exactly as it sounds. I am going to walk you down the aisle,” he says, pride shining through his words.

My heart warms at the notion, but I lift my hands to reassure him. “Bernie, you don’t—”

He hushes me, squeezing my sides gently. “I knew your father was an honorable man, and he wouldn’t want you walking down the aisle alone. Now, are you ready, Your Majesty?”

I am caught off guard by the gesture. Unable to fight the emotion, I break softly as I embrace him again.

He wraps his large body around me, and he squeezes me twice, patting my back as my father would if he were here. “My dear Tove, all will be well.”

I sniff through the tears, wiping my eyes when we drift apart. I muster all the calm I can, patting mother’s mirror in my pocket as Bernie loops my arm in his and the staff attendants open the doors to the ballroom.

The heavy floral scent crashes against me as guests rise to the musicians playing Axidoria’s anthem. White roses weave through green shrubbery plastered through the entire room. Silk drapes across the ceiling with flowers and foliage, spreading along the walls, over the ends of each bench, and wrapping around every pillar.

I clutch Bernie’s arm as the doors close behind us, the only path onward being straight down the long aisle.

Each step and each set of eyes gnaw at me, devouring me.

I forgo the cold ruler they believe me to be, opting to show happiness that this day is finally here. Inclining my head as Bernie and I pass each row, I admire the ethereal aesthetic while being careful to not let my crown fall.

That would be an utter disaster.

But when my damned line of sight catches Rick in the crowd, I curse myself before darting my gaze away from him, hoping I didn’t linger on him too long.

Bernie coughs lightly, my grip on him getting the better of me, and I direct my apprehensiveness to rubbing the worn grooves of Mother’s mirror in my pocket.

Drifting closer, I allow myself to meet Niko’s gaze, and my cheeks flush.

His sand-colored trousers complement the accents of baby blue lining his white doublet designed to match my gown. He wears a beige sash that matches his sword belt and medals, achievements he earned in serving Axidoria pinned neatly in place.

My heart leaps at the dedication he has for our kingdom.

He is everything Axidoria needs right now.

And while I want to move faster to get to him already, my mind wants to commit his boyish grin lighting up the entire room to memory, as if this will be the last time I see him like this.

Niko's gaze is intense, his amber eyes never leaving mine.

My own smile grows underneath his stare, enough reassurance that this is real and this is happening.

I am marrying Niko, and I could not be happier.

He extends his elbow when Bernie and I reach the end of the aisle at the foot of the dais.

Looking beyond the Alorian priest and Niko, I admire the lone throne, soon to have a partner.

I keep my feet planted on the floor for a few more brief moments, so that I may wrap my arms around Bernie.

He covers me entirely, the sun shining over me as if my family is watching.

I lean close to Bernie’s ear. “Thank you for everything, Bernie.”

His muscles tighten around me, giving me two squeezes before releasing me and offering me to Niko.

When our hands touch, a shiver rolls up and down my spine.

I am tugged closer to Niko, and a startled laugh escapes before the Alorian priest clears his throat and addresses the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Your Majesty.” He looks at me, and I give the go ahead to continue.

“We are all gathered here today in celebration of the union between Her Royal Majesty, Queen Tove, and our very own Lord Nik—”

The priest coughs.

Mumbles from the crowd increase, and Niko and I arch a brow at each other as the priest’s coughs turn frantic.

Niko eases forward to help the man—

The priest collapses.

Gasps escape throughout the crowd, and I peer over my shoulder, seeing the panic and horror. I turn back as Niko approaches the fallen priest, squatting and touching the man’s throat.

“Is he—”

Someone claps.

Niko and I turn, everyone gaping at the man stepping into the aisle, wearing a devilish grin.

“Dead?” Rick asks coolly as he stares between Niko and me. “Yes.”

Startled shock erupts through the ballroom as Niko rises, stepping away from the dais.

I glance around the room, not a guard in sight.

Where are all the guards?

“Sir, did you do this?” Niko asks.

Rick viciously sneers, releasing a low laugh. “Of course I did. How else would I have gotten your attention?”

My own eyes widen in shock, glancing back to the dead priest on the floor as a hushed silence fills the room.

I hurry to Niko’s side, asking in a low whisper, “Where are the guards?”

The exit blocked by Rick clangs in response.

My blood runs cold at the hollering from beyond, staff and guards screaming for the doors to open.

Rick chuckles darkly. “It pays to be rich enough to bribe one of your staff members handsomely to keep any guards from coming in.”

Niko and I share a glance.

My eyes flick down to his sword, the only one in the room besides Rick’s.

Weapons and weddings are not meant to go together, and yet here they are, on my wedding day, with no guards in sight, a murder stopping my marriage, and guests to watch everything unfurl.

The Makers are set on ruining my existence.

Everyone waits with bated breath as Rick prowls down the aisle. “Now that I have your attention, I regret that I must inform you Queen Tove is already betrothed. And thus, I cannot allow this marriage to happen today.”

Annoyance drives to the surface.

The fact I can’t have one thing go right for me, including this psychopath, has me seething.

“I am not betrothed to anyone.”

Rick’s blue eyes pierce mine. “Yes, you are.”

I hold Niko’s hand, wanting to show a united front. “And who am I betrothed to if not Lord Nikolaj?”

Rick rests a hand on his heart, a huff at the slight as if I sought to offend him. But his offense shifts to smirking as he says, “Why, me, of course.”

“Bullshit,” Niko and I say in unison.

I do not want to hear anything Rick has to say. And somehow, Niko can tell because he angles himself between me and Rick, unsheathing his sword and pointing it.

I squeeze his hand, trusting him to handle this better than I can. He is challenging Rick, and no one, not even the crown, is to intervene when a blade is drawn.

A stupid rule amongst all swordsmen not to disrupt any party’s honor.

The back door wiggles against the hinges as Rick looks over his fingernails, bored. “I would suggest against what you are insinuating, Lord Nikolaj,” Rick warns in a dark tone.

My insides pinch at the warning, but the fire in Niko’s eyes tells me he is not going to stand down.

Niko lifts his blade again, a reminder of the challenge to Rick, and I pray to the Makers they will protect my fiancé.

Ricks sighs, drawing his own sword and swinging it with flair. “Fine, but expect this to be over sooner than the guards can break down the door.”

Guests closest to the aisle veer backward, no one able to escape.

I catch Bernie, Princess Vivienne, Betina, and her family, they too cannot do anything but watch.

Niko charges Rick, my chest plummeting fast when their blades lock.

The swords clash and drive, the clang of each hit filling the room. Fighting in an aisle puts both fighters at a disadvantage.

My eyes track every lunge, hit, and pivot.

Rick blocks and dodges each one of Niko’s slashes with grace.

I haven’t seen this man fight, but Niko is one of the best swordsmen I’ve seen.

Yet Rick looks bored.

Blades compose their own melody with the mix of feet sidestepping, everyone locked in place, staring in awe as the fight unfolds before us.

The sight of Niko’s exhaustion has me wishing I could do something to stop it, but I remain frozen in place, watching and forgetting to breathe.

Rick’s blade slices through the side of Niko’s jacket.

Niko shrieks in pain.

People gasp as he applies pressure to the bleeding wound.

Rick pauses, a sinful grin hardening his features as he taunts Niko, “Might want to dismiss the guests. Don’t want them to see you meet your demise.”

Niko’s eyes flash, and Rick laughs wickedly. “Oh wait. You can’t, and you will.”

Niko roars and charges Rick, neglecting the blood seeping down his arm.

Rick pivots away, a gleam of amusement hinting in his eyes as he fools Niko, swinging his sword arm in a swift attack.

Niko turns, barely able to fend off Rick’s offensive strike.

“Please, my lords, stop this!” I exclaim, trying to command the fighting to end. “We can talk through this, I am sure.”

My plea is ignored as Niko lunges for Rick, a dagger drawn from his other side.

Rick sidesteps him again, as if he anticipated it, forcing Niko to roll down the aisle, giving the enemy his back.

No.

A scream rises. “Wait! STOP!”

Rick moves faster than my words, drawing his own dagger and bringing it around Niko’s throat.

I muffle my own scream, and the guests gasp.

Rick kicks Niko’s sword and dagger from his hands, twisting to me. “Or what, My Queen?” Rick laces every word with menace.

Niko struggles to free himself from Rick’s hold.

My heart stops when Rick’s dagger pierces Niko’s skin, a small dribble of blood trickling down.

Niko winces as I reach out.

Fear of losing another person I care for has a frigid crackle kissing up my arms.

Panic surges in my core, and despite my magic waking up, I somehow manage to plea, “Please, no. I can’t do this without him.”

But my own magic does not expel as it cascades through me. Instead, a bitter chill prickles against my skin, forcing me to look down at myself.

Frost blooms to life in my pores, specks of ice swirling across my hands and arms.

My own terrorized shriek is muted as terror explodes in the ballroom.

Screams bounce off the walls, fear driving people toward the exit as noblemen gape in horror and scorn as guests bang for the door to open and get away from the Snow Queen’s power.

The symphony of alarm filling the room does not dampen Rick’s rich tone. “Fascinating.”

Niko collapses against Rick’s hold as a guttural scream escapes me. Terror draws to the surface as Rick steps over Niko’s body as if it is nothing, inching closer to me.

I stumble backward, my arms feeling dense as magic grows thicker in my veins, snow weighing me down.

I keep looking beyond Rick, toward Niko. Begging, pleading for him to—

“Relax. I will not kill your lover. Now let me help you,” Rick says calmly.

“What did you do to him?” I hiss, shivers running through my body, unsure of how this man is going to help me.

Rick ignores my question, stalking after me.

I fight against my fear, managing to lift my heavy arm and strike him. But the effort goes unheeded.

Rick catches my hand before it meets his face and tugs me close.

I fight against his hold, trying to get my magic to attack him somehow and not whatever it is currently doing to me.

But Rick closes his eyes in concentration, heat erupting from where he touches me.

Warmth spews up my arm and throughout my entire body.

I don’t know if it is rage or my magic, but when the frost coating my veins slowly vanishes, my eyes widen in horror when they meet Rick’s gaze. I fight to escape his hold again, but my body is molten enough to faint.

“You are coming with me.”

“I will never go with you,” I spit, rage rising to the surface as the dizzying heat spreads through me.

“If you don’t come willingly, I will kill your lover right here, right now.” Rick tugs me, and my heart breaks seeing Niko injured.

I am left with no choice. To save him, I have to go with Rick.

I turn to Niko, watching him move slowly.

A few noblemen hurry to Niko, trying to help him up.

My heart leaps in relief and tears line my vision when his eyes find mine.

“Tove,” Niko gasps.

The entire room is filled with terror and screams.

The doors finally open.

People and guards struggle against each other, trying to break through the tight threshold.

Noblemen abandon Niko as he reaches for me while scrambling toward his weapons.

“Niko.”

My voice cracks.

Amber eyes meet mine when he stands, almost falling forward from blood loss.

I half smile, a lump forming as I command, “You are the royal proxy in my stead.”

Niko roars, “No! Get away from her!”

Niko attempts to follow us to the back room, but his steps are sluggish.

Rick laughs and opens the door with ease, and no guards wait on the other side. He pushes me through the back chamber and down the castle’s secret halls.

Niko screams in agony, then cries after me. “I’m coming for you! I will find you!”

Tears stream down my cheeks. The heat and heaviness still flows through my body, keeping all cold from me. It feels as if my magic is draining from me.

I can’t sense it.

I barely hold together my surprise at Rick’s knowledge of the secret passageways as he pushes me. I lose my balance, stumbling over my dress.

The dress tangles between my legs as I struggle to get up.

The tearing of fabric rips.

I whip my head over my shoulder to see Rick cutting the long train of my wedding gown with his dagger. “You asshole!”

My. Wedding. Dress.

“There are prettier dresses in the world.”

“Prettier dresses!?” I darken as rage sharpens my tone. “You motherfuck—”

Rick lifts me up. “You’ll live.” He brushes off my insults without a care in the world as he resumes in dragging me along.

I make my body heavy in each step to fight against his hold.

Gone is the man with charm who saved me from embarrassment, danced with ease, and flirted with me. Now the man addresses me as if it all meant nothing.

Fucking. Asshole.

We reach the back door of the castle, the closest to the stables, as shouts and raised voices fill the air.

The terror of never riding a horse before has me digging my feet into the ground as Rick ignores the sound of soldiers’ boots hurrying toward us.

We approach one horse saddled with a few packs. The surprise of how large the saddle is, as if it was designed for two people, has me wondering how far in advance Rick planned this.

He gives the black steed a solid pat before directing his annoyance to me. “Your little lover is resourceful.”

“He is my fiancé,” I spit.

Rick rolls his eyes as he grabs a rope and ties my hands together.

I wince as he finishes the last knot, the rope rubbing uncomfortably on my skin. When I try to make a break for it, he tugs me, hands tightening around me enough to change the color of my skin.

His black hair blows in the wind, and I hate how it makes his scar more stunning. “Don’t even try it,” Rick threatens.

I cease my efforts as he lifts me, placing me on the back of the saddle, patting his steed again as he says, “Can’t have you trying to steer us in the wrong direction.”

I wouldn’t even know how to do that. I’ve only ever been in a carriage.

Rick smirks before mounting in one swift motion.

I barely have a chance to find something to hold on to when he whistles, his leg brushing against the steed, clicking his mouth twice.

The horse surges into a gallop, leaving the stables behind.

I lurch forward and seek Rick’s shirt for support.

Riding is uncomfortable, the wind slashing across my face and ripping my crown and veil off my head.

We inch closer to the castle gates, and my body rocks back and forth, struggling to peer behind to my home drifting farther and farther away.

Guards fill the bridge at the gate, arrows nocked and pointed at Rick and me.

I yell into the wind, hoping to command them for fear of their arrows hitting me and not Rick. “Hold your fire!”

I don’t want to get shot, but I also worry that Rick might do something drastic if my guards attack. No one else should get hurt. So many people are already affected by my dreaded winter.

I put my heart and trust in Niko that he will take care of the kingdom while he comes for me.

Faces of each soldier on the bridge become clearer, and a familiar person takes shape.

Niko.

My heart skips a beat at the relief he is safe. But knowing Niko, he is not going to let Rick get away with this.

The shouting of “Close the gates” comes from Niko as we approach.

Rick utters a command to his steed, and our speed increases.

My stomach drops as the gates close.

We aren’t going to make it.

But the large black stallion’s pace picks up even more, a chuckle vibrating from Rick’s chest. We fly through the gates, mere inches left between us and the guards failing to stop the horse.

My faith in being saved ceases as I crash into Rick’s back when he tugs on the reins. I peer over my shoulder toward my guards on the bridge, seeking Niko’s face one last time.

But I clasp Rick’s vest, shaking him when my guards all nock their arrows. “Rick, my guards—they aren’t standing down.”

“Sure,” he replies, whisking the reins once more.

I brave another glance, my heart lurching from my chest when Niko’s red hair separates him from the rest of the guards, my eyes widening as he grabs a bow from the guard beside him, notching it himself.

Is he… No.

He wouldn’t!

Niko releases the arrow aimed toward us, and the fear that a weapon is headed directly for me overpowers my trust in Niko and his skillful aim.

I am unable to suppress my sheer terror. “ARROW!”

Rick tugs the bridle, guiding us to drift as a sharp searing pain pierces me.

My screams erupt at the invasion, squeezing my arms around Rick as I breathe through the arrow puncturing my shoulder.

“Fuck,” Rick hisses, as the coppery smell of blood clouds my senses.

It takes everything in me not to vomit.

Rick tugs the straps again as we pass Yalta, pointing his steed northward. A stinging sensation burns hotter from my injury.

“We should reach the trees leading to Biala Forest soon. Once we pass them, I can remove the arrow,” Rick tells me through the scattered winds.

My insides clench, and my shoulder throbs. The idea of removing the arrow only drives the pain more. Warmth streams down my back, ruining my wedding gown.

My precious wedding gown.

I shriek in pain when the horse hurdles over a wooden gate.

Rick reaches an arm behind, holding me.

“I-I can’t feel my arms,” I seethe as exhaustion rips through me.

I crash into his back when the horse leaps over another fence, rampaging through a small field of crops, lightly frosted. These fields are essential and are being damaged and will hurt my people come spring.

The world swims around me as I plea, “Please, my people need these crops. Can’t we take another path?”

Hearing my request, Rick tugs the reins to the right, the steed leaving the rest of the crops undamaged.

A small reprieve drives my vision to soften, the hues of the blue sky blending with the lightly sleeted plains we ride through.

“R-Rick?” I ask, my head lolling and voice quieting.

“Stay with me. We are almost there.”

Heaviness expands from my scalp down to the rest of my body. Trying to fight it, I tighten my hold on him, but my strength falters.

I slump forward against a warm, hard cushion.

Rich cologne dulls the sense of agony, dipping into my veins and soothing my body as darkness takes over.