Kristian Frostborne's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

The rider came at dusk, half-frozen in the saddle. He brought word from a servant Cael had planted in the duchess's household. Kristian read the note twice. The duchess had learned of the betrothal. She would not wait for the winter feast. She meant to poison the wedding cup at dawn, before Kristian could drag her before the throne. He crushed the paper in his fist and turned to the two who mattered. Cael stepped from the shadow of his own hall, jaw turned away as always. The blue ice on his face had crept lower since Kristian last saw him. "She strikes first," the lord said. "Then my testimony means nothing. Dead men accuse no one." Eira stood at her father's side, the snow leopard cub asleep in her arms. She did not flinch. "She will send it as a gift," Eira said. "A wedding chalice. Custom demands we drink from it." Her calm told Kristian more than fear could. She had grown up watching for poison at her own table. Kristian saw the trap and the door out of it. "Then we drink," he said. "But not from her cup. From ours." He set the runed chalice on the table between them. Frost climbed its stem. Its carved marks caught the low light. "This cup does not kill. It compels truth. We send word we accept her gift. We invite her to the ceremony to witness the vow. When she comes, she drinks first, as honored guest. And she confesses before every noble in the hall." Cael's frozen mouth twitched. "She will not come. She smells the runes." "She will come," Kristian said. "Pride brought her this far. She wants to see the bride fall. I only give her a reason to stand close." They moved that night. Eira wrote the invitation in her own hand, sweet and eager, a nervous bride thanking her enemy. A servant carried it through the dark. Kristian waited by the frozen window and watched the pass. At dawn the duchess came. She rode in gray and black, her hair the color of dirty snow, a small vial hidden in her sleeve. She had brought her own gift chalice. Kristian met her smile with none. He offered the enchanted cup first, as custom bound a host to do. She could not refuse without insult before the assembled lords. She drank. Her eyes went wide. The runes took hold. "The poison is in my sleeve," she said, unable to stop the words. "I came to see the girl die." The hall went still. Cael stepped fully into the light. His witness now had no meaning—the duchess had accused herself. Guards seized her. She screamed that she had allies, that the greybeard would answer. Kristian's hand closed around Eira's. The duchess was broken. But her last words hung in the cold air. The greybeard still lived, and now he knew his partner had fallen.