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anywhere. Her mirror…”
“Irina, you are loved by so many creatures, so many smaller factions within this territory. Any one of them would take you in, the fey, the leshii , the vila , even the rusalki would likely welcome you. Surely one of them could give you sanctuary?”
Irina shook her head, her entire body trembling as the full weight of the huntsman’s words fell on her. “Viktor, I could not ask that of any of them. To stand up to Serafina politically is one thing. But if she wants my…” she swallowed hard, “my heart, then she will kill if necessary to get it. How could I ask that of my friends?”
“She would not go against the high king,” Viktor whispered.
The sheer ridiculousness of the suggestion would have made Irina laugh if she wasn’t so terrified. “The high king would be even more likely to kill me than Serafina if news of my…political views have reached as far as you say.” She closed her eyes, fighting not to sway on her feet. “There is nowhere for me to run.”
Viktor’s hands closed like twin vices on her arms and Irina screamed as she opened her eyes. The huntsman’s green eyes bored into hers, fierce determination written across his face. “You will run and you will hide,” he ground out, emotion taking some of the edge off his voice. “I will not see you dead, Irina.” He pushed her away and stooped to pick up the box and blade. “I will slaughter a pig and offer its heart in your place.” He grabbed her hand and Irina whimpered as he squeezed her thumb, forcing the wound to reopen again. Her blood trickled into the box he held open underneath it. “This will not fool Serafina for long. You must go now!”
A sob broke from Irina as she stumbled back and fell into the snow. Viktor gave her one last look before plunging into the forest, searching for the pig that would buy her precious little time. Irina stared back into the distance at where she knew the castle sat, and within, Serafina in her glass coffin.
“I will return one day, Serafina,” she whispered, not even caring when fear made her voice waver. “You will pay for all you’ve taken from me.”
Without another look, she turned and darted into the forest, praying that she would find safety…somewhere.
Chapter 2
“Such a shame what happened to your treaties with the goblins and the trolls.”
Kirill gritted his teeth against the grating sound of his father’s voice. It was never a pleasant sound, but it was made infinitely worse when he imbued it with that tone of condescension and false sympathy. The older vampire slouched in a plush armchair in front of the fire. He was wearing enough gold to bribe a dragon and the purple velvet of his robe was so thick it could probably sit up without him. Not wanting to give his father the satisfaction of a reaction, Kirill fought to keep his face impassive as he continued to stroll into the sitting room.
His mother offered him a small smile as he bent to kiss her cheek. She sat with excellent posture on a matching chair beside the king, wearing matching gold, though not in the same quantity. Unlike his father’s stiff velvet, his mother preferred to dress in silk. The cool material clung to her lean frame, complimenting her and adding to her regal bearing.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said softly.
“Good morning, dear. Your father and I just had a visit from the troll lord that lives in the mountain a few miles from here.”
“He was nicer to me than he’s been in ages,” Kirill’s father, the king, interrupted gleefully. “Apparently, you interfered with the troll king’s plans for new territory in Sanguenay a while back?” He made a tsking sound and shook his head. “Not a very smart move for someone who seems so very intent on stealing my throne.”
Denying his father’s comment would do him little good. The king was well aware that his son had aspirations of being king.
“Irina, you are loved by so many creatures, so many smaller factions within this territory. Any one of them would take you in, the fey, the leshii , the vila , even the rusalki would likely welcome you. Surely one of them could give you sanctuary?”
Irina shook her head, her entire body trembling as the full weight of the huntsman’s words fell on her. “Viktor, I could not ask that of any of them. To stand up to Serafina politically is one thing. But if she wants my…” she swallowed hard, “my heart, then she will kill if necessary to get it. How could I ask that of my friends?”
“She would not go against the high king,” Viktor whispered.
The sheer ridiculousness of the suggestion would have made Irina laugh if she wasn’t so terrified. “The high king would be even more likely to kill me than Serafina if news of my…political views have reached as far as you say.” She closed her eyes, fighting not to sway on her feet. “There is nowhere for me to run.”
Viktor’s hands closed like twin vices on her arms and Irina screamed as she opened her eyes. The huntsman’s green eyes bored into hers, fierce determination written across his face. “You will run and you will hide,” he ground out, emotion taking some of the edge off his voice. “I will not see you dead, Irina.” He pushed her away and stooped to pick up the box and blade. “I will slaughter a pig and offer its heart in your place.” He grabbed her hand and Irina whimpered as he squeezed her thumb, forcing the wound to reopen again. Her blood trickled into the box he held open underneath it. “This will not fool Serafina for long. You must go now!”
A sob broke from Irina as she stumbled back and fell into the snow. Viktor gave her one last look before plunging into the forest, searching for the pig that would buy her precious little time. Irina stared back into the distance at where she knew the castle sat, and within, Serafina in her glass coffin.
“I will return one day, Serafina,” she whispered, not even caring when fear made her voice waver. “You will pay for all you’ve taken from me.”
Without another look, she turned and darted into the forest, praying that she would find safety…somewhere.
Chapter 2
“Such a shame what happened to your treaties with the goblins and the trolls.”
Kirill gritted his teeth against the grating sound of his father’s voice. It was never a pleasant sound, but it was made infinitely worse when he imbued it with that tone of condescension and false sympathy. The older vampire slouched in a plush armchair in front of the fire. He was wearing enough gold to bribe a dragon and the purple velvet of his robe was so thick it could probably sit up without him. Not wanting to give his father the satisfaction of a reaction, Kirill fought to keep his face impassive as he continued to stroll into the sitting room.
His mother offered him a small smile as he bent to kiss her cheek. She sat with excellent posture on a matching chair beside the king, wearing matching gold, though not in the same quantity. Unlike his father’s stiff velvet, his mother preferred to dress in silk. The cool material clung to her lean frame, complimenting her and adding to her regal bearing.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said softly.
“Good morning, dear. Your father and I just had a visit from the troll lord that lives in the mountain a few miles from here.”
“He was nicer to me than he’s been in ages,” Kirill’s father, the king, interrupted gleefully. “Apparently, you interfered with the troll king’s plans for new territory in Sanguenay a while back?” He made a tsking sound and shook his head. “Not a very smart move for someone who seems so very intent on stealing my throne.”
Denying his father’s comment would do him little good. The king was well aware that his son had aspirations of being king.
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