The Frost Queen's Blade (The Iceblood Duet, #1)

by Meg Smitherman

Now I wish I had poisoned your father. But he died of his own accord, I’m sorry to say. You know, when I found out you were his only heir, that I had to kill you instead…” Rune studied her face. “I was terribly upset.” “Why?” Elma asked when he didn’t elaborate. Her throat tightened. “Look at you,” he breathed. “It’s like you’re carved from ice, frigid and perfect. There are so many things I’d rather do to that body than carve it up, but… you being who you are…” a predatory gleam lit his eyes.

“Take Her Majesty to the prisoner,” said the first guard, interrupting hurriedly. “Apologies, my queen, we’re not… accustomed to royalty down here.” Elma regarded him coolly. “See that you become accustomed to me.”

I took the liberty of checking the hair between his legs before I turned his body over to your men. It didn’t match.” “You mean you have white—” Elma said, then bit her tongue. “Yes,” Rune said impatiently. “I’ll show you later, you depraved thing.

“Good god,” Elma breathed, moving to the door. “Nothing happened. If you say anything…” she swallowed dryly. He cocked an eyebrow. “Say anything about what? How good you taste? The sound you make when you come? How much I want to kill whoever’s outside your door and lay you out on the bed just so I can hear that sound again?” He smiled serenely. “I won’t say a word.”

“If that’s what my bloodthirsty queen so desires.” She glanced at Rune sidelong. “I am anything but yours.” He grinned, but something tugged on the corners of it, weighing it down. “If it makes you feel any better, Majesty, I am nothing if not yours.”

“I have wanted you,” he murmured, lifting her up and carrying her into the bedroom, “since the moment I first heard your voice. I have dreamt every night of tasting you, of hearing my name on your lips.”

“Well,” he said, “you’re a weapon. I had to keep my guard up in case you tried to pierce me through the heart. The only difference now is that I no longer fear such an attack. You could puncture me full of holes, Your Majesty, and I’d only beg for more.”

“Home? What do I care about home? I could never see Slödava again and die happy, just for the chance to spend a week of nights in your bed. Even for one night, really. I mean, all you’d have to do was ask. Want me to declare war on my mother? I’ll do it.”