Frost (32 page)

Technically, jotun didn’t get cold, so the dress wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. But if all the guards knew the Viking twins were supposed to be trailing me, my being out on my own might raise suspicions.

When I rounded the corner, the two guards at the door spotted me. One had been leaning against the wall, and he stood up straight as soon as he saw me, looking sheepish. Probably hadn’t expected to see anyone wandering outside at this time, and I’d caught him slacking at his post. We were off to a good start.

The other guard only stared at me blankly until I got closer. Then his eyebrows rose slightly. “Lady Amora.”

It was a greeting, not an interrogation, but I still felt hot and cold with fear. My pulse picked up speed, fluttering in my throat. I nodded and kept going, forcing myself not to limp, even though walking sent spasms of pain shooting up my left leg.

Neither guard tried to stop me as I walked past, and as soon as I got inside, I hurried toward the servants’ quarters. If I ran into anyone now, it could be trouble—especially if it happened to be Erik.

Much worse
, a logical voice in the back of my head pointed out,
would be running into Gunnar right now.

It was enough to make me hobble faster, in spite of the pain. Maybe it had been stupid to ditch my protectors. I was taking a big risk in a palace full of people who hated me.

Erik would be furious if he knew.

Even though I hadn't been there that long, it was easy enough to find the servants' quarters. The hallways got plainer as they led to it, no longer decorated with sparkling chandeliers or sculptures. The blue glow still emanated from the walls, but solely for the purpose of light. There were no frills in the servants' quarters.

At last, I came across people, a group of plainly clothed women who were hurrying down the hall with wicker baskets of fruit.

Kitchen staff, probably. They were laughing and talking, their voices raised. It was something I'd never seen in the regular parts of the palace.

When they spotted me, the women went quiet. They moved to the far side of the wall and began to file past, and most of them kept their eyes averted. One woman on the end gave me a curious look, and another actually smiled before glancing at her shoes.

That made me a bit braver, and I cleared my throat.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for...Brad."

The woman who had smiled looked up again, peering through her yellow-blond bangs. "He's at the end of this hall. Last door on the left." She actually winked before turning away to follow her friends, and the sounds of muffled giggling followed me down the rest of the hallway.

The thought that I was doing something incredibly foolish kept occurring to me. So much could go wrong. The servants could rat me out, for one thing. Or I could get Loki executed. Did the servants know he was a fire jotun? They couldn't possibly believe he was a servant. He looked nothing like the rest of them. Maybe they didn't care. After all, why would they be loyal to the queen? It wasn't like she'd done them any favors. They might as well be slaves.

The hallway wasn't long, and the last door on the left came up fast.

I knocked once, and waited. My breath came short and ragged, like I'd been running the hundred meter dash. I was going to see Loki again.

The thought gave me goose bumps, and my chest felt tight from some strange combination of panic and anticipation. The door creaked open, and there he was, smiling down at me in delight. Like he hadn't been sure I would come. His curls were even messier than usual, and the blond wig was in one hand.

"Well, hello, darlin'. Glad you could make it."

~ * ~

Loki ushered me in, and I was hit by the smell of bread baking. My stomach rumbled loudly, and he laughed.

"Good thing we're meeting in the kitchen, isn't it?"

The servants’ kitchen was spacious and much plainer than any of the rooms I was used to. The walls were actually made out of wood instead of ice, as if the jotun hadn't bothered to waste magic on this section. There was a roaring fire at the far end, and a long, solid table in the center.

Kitchen staff bustled around—some chopping vegetables at the table, others checking meat cooking over the fire.

A few glanced up and gave Loki and me a cheerful nod and a wink, and I found myself smiling back almost involuntarily.

This was different than the rest of the palace. So much warmer.

Loki had been watching my face, and he grinned. "Do you like it? I feel most at home here. It's a bit more what I'm used to."

Inhaling the scent of bread again, I nodded. "It's wonderful. It seems less uptight around here."

He tipped his head back when he laughed. I loved the sound. It made me want to do an entire stand-up comedy routine right then and there, just so I could keep hearing it.

Loki sobered up a little, though his eyes still sparkled. "They're a family around here. Even if they're treated like dirt, they band together. It makes things less toxic than out there."

Toxic. It was an accurate description for the politics and backstabbing that went on in court. I nodded and then glanced up, startled, when a chubby blond woman with red cheeks bustled over and set a tray on the counter beside us.

"Here you are, dears. It's dinnertime right now. Can't have you missing out." She poked Loki in the ribs with one sausage-like finger, and he swatted at her hand. "You have to get some meat on those bones."

"Stop trying to fatten me up, Auga. I don't taste nearly as good as I look."

After she'd returned to her vegetable chopping, Loki turned to me. He placed one hand on the small of my back, sending a shiver through me. "Eat. Get something in you. You look tired."

"Everyone keeps saying that," I grumbled.

"You're worrying. That's why," Loki said sternly. "You should stop worrying and come with me."

I hesitated. The reason I'd come kept popping up in the back of my mind. Up until now, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Warn him, help him save his people. But warning him officially made me a traitor. I didn't know much about war, but I knew that warning the enemy camp was considered 
bad
. That was a no-brainer.

I changed the subject. "Did all the servants know I was coming here? None of them seemed surprised."

Loki grabbed a piece of bread off the plate and layered cheese on it as he spoke. "It's no big deal. They think you're having a 
thing
 with me." He looked down at me, his mouth twitching at one corner.

I tried to keep my face straight. "That would be a ridiculous assumption.”

"Would it?" He reached out and took my wrist, which made me jump and blush furiously, but he only put the piece of bread and cheese in my hand. "Eat."

Hopefully he couldn't see how he was affecting me. "Yes. Ridiculous." I took a bite and then realized how impossible it was to look cool and unaffected while eating a cheese sandwich. Loki looked amused, which sort of made me want to kick him in the shins. "Have you thought about what I said?"

All I had been doing all day was thinking—thinking and worrying. About the dream, about going with him, about the war. My chest ached when I thought about the women and children in the dream, trapped and frightened, huddled together. His people. The people Amora had spared. In two weeks, we'd attack them again. I had to tell him.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. "Erik told me something. Something nobody knows yet."

His smile faded. "What is it?"

"The queen has decided."

The look on his face made me stumble over my words. He already knew what I was about to say. "She...She's going to attack in two weeks."

Loki was quiet for several long seconds.

Was he angry I hadn't told him right away? His face was almost blank, like he was struggling to process his emotions. "Thank you for telling me."

My voice was barely a whisper. "You're welcome."

A strange, heavy feeling collected around me, like the air was just a little bit too thick to breathe properly. If anyone was listening, I had just sealed my fate. I was a traitor.

"You're going to leave now. To warn your people." It wasn't a question.

The idea of him leaving started prickles of panic low in my gut. Having him at the palace had felt a tiny bit safer. It was scary that he might be caught, but he was also a backup plan. I could go with him and escape this place if I needed to. But now, he had to leave.

Loki looked tortured, eyes flicking back and forth, to my face and then away again. "I have to. I have to tell my father. We have to prepare for battle. We knew this day would come at some point, but we'd hoped..." He shook his head.

The pain on his face tore at my chest, made my breath short and uneven.

He faced me, eyes locked on mine. When he grabbed my hands, I didn't back away. His fingers were warm and rough, his hands strong, but his voice was a strained whisper.

"Say you'll come with me. We'll go together. You can warn my father, carry the message to him. There is no 
way
 he'll do anything but thank you for it. You'll be hailed a hero. It's perfect, Megan. Please, I can't leave you here."

I opened my mouth to say no, to tell him that was crazy, but the words didn’t come.
Was
it crazy?

He was right. It was likely that, if I came before the fire king and warned him about what my people were going to do, he would spare me. Perhaps even let me stay there as a guest. And with Loki backing me up...

Loki, being with Loki, traveling with Loki—the idea was incredibly appealing. Exciting and terrifying all at the same time. And I'd already decided I wasn't staying at the palace. With guards stalking my every move, the threat of Gunnar hanging over me, and the promise of war, it was either leave with Loki or leave by myself.

"Let me talk to Charlotte."

A wide grin brightened his face, and he squeezed my hands excitedly. "Excellent. Talk to her, convince her to come. Then meet me here tomorrow night."

“But the guards—”

“Don’t worry. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. There’ll be a distraction tomorrow night, right around midnight. Your guards will be unavoidably detained.”

So that was it? I had just decided to go with him? My heart was thundering against my ribs, and it took a few seconds for me to breathe again. "Okay. I'll see you then."

Then I had to go, though I wanted to linger there in the warm kitchen with him. It was back out into the courtyard, through the snow, to find the right window along the wall.