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“Chiara Sturmfrost is dead. Meryn Sturmfrost has returned. Long live Queen Sturmfrost.”
“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”
His hand slams against the bars. “Of course I hated you, Meryn!” he hisses. My heart slams in my chest. A bolt of confusing electricity streaks up my spine, forcing my shoulders back. “Can you blame me? My family has waited hundreds of years for your arrival, keeping the secret alive. I’ve waited. And when the Sturmfrost royal finally makes her appearance, she’s weak and in love with the person whose family stole her birthright!”
He reaches through the bars and grabs my wrist, the contact alighting my blood. “Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”
“I’d tell you not to put yourself in danger,” he says, “but I know you better than that.” I bite my lip, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re worried?” He scoffs. “Never. You are the danger. Any person who doesn’t see that deserves what’s coming to them.”
I am Meryn Sturmfrost, Queen of Nocturna, and I will use the twisting dark in my bones and my blood to hunt Killian Valtiere to the ends of the earth.
