Frost: A fae romance (Frost and Nectar Book 1)

I woke with a pounding headache and one arm slung over my eyes. Had thunder awoken me? I wasn’t sure if something had actually boomed through the walls or if it was the lingering remnants of a nightmare.

It wasn’t storming. Moonlight streamed into the room, and I felt as if someone was screaming in my head.

I hadn’t felt drunk last night—just amazing. I’d had maybe two and a half little flutes of the Faerie wine, which I didn’t think was that much. But apparently, Faerie wine fucks you up. And as always when I drank too much, I woke at an ungodly hour.

Immediately, my mind went to the kiss with Torin, and my pulse started to race just thinking about it.

The voice screamed in my head again, and I slammed my eyes shut.

But that wasn’t in my head, was it? Who the fuck was screaming?

I forced myself out of bed and into Shalini’s room. In the moonlight, I could see her sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. “What’s happening?” she mumbled. “What time is it?”

I crossed to the door, opening it a crack. Screams echoed off the castle walls, and I saw guards running toward the source of the noise down the shadowy hall.

I slid the door shut and turned back to Shalini. “Someone’s hurt, I think. But there are tons of guards out there if there’s an intruder.”

With a thundering heart, I crossed to pick up my sword, left by the door.

Carefully, I opened the door an inch and peered out again. The guards had disappeared into a chamber. Shadows danced across the stones. The screaming had fallen silent.

Silhouetted figures moved about the hall, and in the torchlight, I identified the princesses, pulled from sleep as I had been, their tangled hair tumbling over their nightgowns. I recognized the dark-haired Redcap, her eyes opened wide with fear as she crept over the stone, and the pumpkin and violet locks of Etain.

“What the fuck is happening?” she asked in a loud whisper.

I tiptoed into the hall, and cold dread plunged down my center.

“What’s going on?” I crept to the door the guards had gone through and peered over someone’s shoulder to see what had happened.

Through the crowd pressing into the door, I caught a glimpse of a woman’s body. She lay face down, her white hair spread out like the petals of a broken flower, her white nightgown stained red with blood. The ornate hilt of a knife protruded from between her shoulder blades.

“It’s Princess Alice,” I breathed. Her body wasn’t moving.

Wisps of our conversation earlier twisted and floated through my mind, and sadness coiled through me. Alice had seemed sweet, nothing like the rest of the ruthless fae.

Aeron was crouching over her, his hands held out. “No one come closer!” he barked. Then he raised his face to the other guards. “How did this happen with a guard at the door? With all of us in the hall?”

A soldier with dark hair shook his head. “No one entered her room.”

“And none of you saw anyone pass by?” Freezing magic glided over my skin, and my teeth chattered. I turned to see Torin stalking down the hall. “Everyone must return to their rooms at once,” he said, one hand on the hilt of his rapier.

I sucked in a deep breath and stepped aside. Torin was right—we didn’t need dozens of people trampling all over a crime scene. I turned, and looking back, I caught a glimpse of the TV crew. They were dragging a camera as fast as they could across the stone floor. I didn’t want to be there when they clashed with Torin over broadcasting this.

I hurried to my room, thinking of what Torin had said about the castle—even he didn’t know every passage in this labyrinth. Once Shalini and I were safe, I slipped the deadbolt into place. “We need to scour this place for entrances,” I said. Heart hammering, I pulled aside tapestries and hunted under the beds for trapdoors.

Shalini was running her fingers over the walls. “Why Alice?” she asked. “Moria and you seem to be the front-runners.”

“It’s probably Moria,” I muttered. “And maybe she couldn’t get in here. Alice danced with the king twice tonight. Maybe more. She was still dancing with him when I left.”

After twenty minutes of searching, Shalini and I hadn’t found a thing—except a note slipped under our door from the king:

Search every inch of the room. Aeron will guard you until I return.

You are not to leave under any circumstances.

Shalini and I had spent the day as virtual prisoners in our room—albeit prisoners with tons of books, a luxurious bath, plenty of food deliveries, and a brief visit from Aeron, who helped us inspect the room once more. But now it was just the two of us and the books. As we lounged in our room, servants had delivered stews, chicken wings, blue cheese, fruit, and red wine.

Apart from the threat of assassination, I had no complaints, really.

By six p.m., I was hunched over the chicken wings, which were smoky and flavorful, the meat practically falling off the bone. In my lap, I’d opened a book to read as I ate, The Castle of Ontranto, a centuries-old gothic romance that had me completely hooked.

As I paused for a sip of Beaujolais, a knock sounded at the door.

Shalini reached the door first and pressed her ear against the wood. “Who is it? More food?”

“It’s the king.” His deep voice boomed through the wood. “And Aeron.”

Shalini unbolted the door and pulled it open, letting them in.

As Torin came into the room, I could see his exhaustion. His face was drawn, and there were shadows beneath his beautiful eyes.

Aeron held up the black dagger I’d seen jutting out of Alice’s body. He glanced at Shalini and me. “You two are the only ones who got a glimpse of the assassin in action. Is this the same dagger you saw in your room that night?”

I took a step closer, staring at the hilt. “I think so. I mean, it was dark. But I do remember that it was black. Like onyx.”

“Did you find a secret passage in Alice’s room?” asked Shalini.

Torin ran a hand through his hair. “A painting of Finvarra that no one suspected was a door. It opened into her room, and the assassin must have entered while she slept. The passageway leads all the way down to the dungeons, and I have soldiers scouring the entire thing for evidence and interrogating the other princesses.”

Curiosity sparked. “Why don’t you suspect us?”

Aeron cocked his head. “You wouldn’t have made it past me, would you? Several of the other princesses have hidden passages in their rooms that would allow them out. Yours does not.”

I took a deep breath. “Let me guess. Moria is one of them?”

“I can’t accuse without evidence. It would tear the kingdom apart.”

Aeron fidgeted with his collar. “And there is, of course, the history the king has with Moria and her family.”

It’s not like he’d told me anything about that.

Torin glanced at Aeron for a moment before meeting my gaze. “I have plenty of guards collecting evidence now, Ava. But we only have a few days left, and I need to make sure you’ll be able to defend yourself in the fencing tournament.”

Despite everything happening, and despite my better judgment, I felt a hot shiver of excitement at the idea of being alone with him again.