Fantasy of Frost (The Tainted Accords, #1)

by Kelly St. Clare

“Veni!” I say, also rushing forward. “Kedrick, you snuck up on me.” He sits up, wincing a little with the movement. “That is the worst apology I’ve ever heard. How the hell did you throw me like that? You’re so small.” He rubs his back where he hit the tree. I walk to inspect the tree. There is not any sign it has been hit. “Is the tree alright, Olina?” he says sarcastically, standing on unsteady legs. Rhone snorts and I look at him in surprise. Rhone made a sound, he can talk. In light of previous comments Kedrick has made about bruma women being mainly decorative, I suspect his pride has suffered the biggest injury from my throw. “Thank you, it is okay,” I reply in the same tone, receiving a glare from him and another snort from Rhone.

This is by far the worst thing I’ve ever done. And it felt amazing.

The prince and my brother decide this is very amusing. Now that they have beaten each other up, they appear to be best friends.

The person swears, surprised. “Shit, you’re awake.” The voice is slurring, but I recognize it nonetheless. “What are you doing in here, King Jovan?” I ask. He is acting strangely. His movements are clumsy. He takes several steps backwards during his walk towards the bed. I watch, my fear turning into confusion. He finally makes it to the seat at the end of the bed and collapses. “Your room is huge,” he complains, huffing as though he has run uphill. “You just beat up your own guards,” I say. This is beyond strange. I don’t know what to think, or if I should get him help. He closes his eyes, a grin across his face. “Yep.” He sways on the seat while I hover next to the bed in the fur, uncertain. “You’re ill. Do you need help?” I ask. “Do I need help?” he repeats quietly. “I think I do.” I wonder if he knows he is talking aloud.

I climb onto the chair I have just vacated and glimpse down into the box. My heart melts. Instantly. “It’s a little dog,” I say in a whisper, not moving my eyes from the small, furry object in the box. It is unbearably cute. A few people laugh. “A puppy,” Rhone corrects. “He’s for me?” My voice quavers a little on the last word. “It’s a girl, but yes, she’s yours,” he says. I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the beautiful animal. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I love her.” I jump off the chair to hug Rhone and then give Malir a hug as well. He pats me awkwardly. “You’ve been so interested in Rhone’s dogs we thought you might like her,” Malir says, his voice gruff. “You can train her.” I race back to climb the chair and look down into the box again. Her light blue eyes look up at me, her head is tilted to the side. I pick her up and hug her closely. She wiggles in my arms and licks my hands and arms. I giggle at the slobbery feel of her small tongue. “What should I call you?” I kiss her forehead. “I cannot believe you got me a little dog,” I say. “It’s a puppy,” Rhone says again. His voice is lost amongst the others in the room who are all shouting out names. The puppy starts barking. “I am going to train you and you are going to be even better than Leo,” I say to the puppy as she tilts her head to the side. “Of course she’ll be better than Leo, females are much smarter than males,” Jacquiline says, matter of fact. The other women in the room shout their agreement. “Oli...

“Of course.” I snort and then gasp in disbelief. “I just snorted!” I tilt my head up to glare at Rhone. “That’s your fault.” Rhone snorts in response. I giggle and we both laugh.

“Where have you been?” the King roars. Two months ago I probably would have run for cover. I stand up, brushing the snow from my trousers. “I have been chasing Kaura around all morning, you have no idea how infuriating it has been.” The King’s face changes from its usual fair color to red and I hear Roscoe choke. “Are you alright, Roscoe?” I ask and see his stifled grin before the King’s glare dictates its hasty removal.

“Don’t do that!” I glare up at his towering frame. I reach down and pick Kaura up, cradling her in my arms. “Are you alright, Kaura? You are such a good girl.” Roscoe chokes again. “Good?” the King shouts in disbelief. “She just bit me.” “You deserved it,” I return and hear muffled laughter. The King aims another glare over his shoulder. I have never seen the King this flustered. I barely restrain my laughter.

Instead, I chip away at Rhone about learning to use the sleds. One day during lunch he explodes upwards from the bench. “Okay,” he roars. “I’ll do it. You could fucking convince a stone to give you water.

I nearly jump out of my boots as a large wooden bench crashes down behind me. I glare at the culprit, Kedrick’s bloody brother. I should know. Where there is crashing, there is King Jovan.