The Frozen Prince (The Beast Charmer #2) - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,74
enough room to sit without grazing my head.
With a smile, I touched my bestiary. “I’m definitely going to have to read up on you.”
And with that, more vines rushed from his core and we were off, crawling toward the edge of the tree with a ruska fruit safely resting in my lap.
Sixteen
Noc
Oslo’s Ruins called to me. Unadulterated power vibrated from the raised tomb, rippling outward and washing against my skin. Poking and prodding, as if trying to understand my purpose in the ruins. Electricity surged through my muscles, and I took a few steps forward.
“Noc.” Kost’s hand snared my shoulder. “Don’t.”
“I’m already here.” The tomb dominated my vision, and a foreign heartbeat throbbed in my ears. “Distance doesn’t matter. From the moment that tree came into sight, I was caught.”
Caught. It didn’t feel right to put it that way, but I wasn’t sure how else to explain it. The pull of the magic was undeniable, an invisible current tied to me by the royal blood coursing through my body. Whether or not I intended to take the throne didn’t matter. The gods recognized my existence, and they weren’t going to let me escape without the ritual.
Letting out a long breath, I closed my eyes. Just like before, Leena had delivered a part of my past right into my hands. Five hidden ruins strewn about Lendria. All five necessary to visit before ascending to the throne. Nepheste’s welcome had been silent, just a recognition in my soul, but it had been enough to start the process.
“The first welcomes,” I mumbled as I opened my eyes.
Ozias shot me a concerned look. “What?”
“The second questions.” I moved toward the tomb. The steady thrum ratcheted up a few notches, a heady beat so low and deep that all other sounds faded save that cadence. Kost and Ozias followed me, their worried calls muffled and indecipherable. All that mattered was Oslo and what he had to say.
I passed under the last archway before the tomb, pushing aside dripping vines and standing before the slab of marble. Hungry shadows lurched around me, but a glowing white sphere held strong like a star above the sealed sarcophagus.
I was far from prepared. Many royals visited the first grave site alone, but every location thereafter garnered more attention, more witnesses to the claim. Other heirs. Siblings and parents. Priests and priestesses. My gut tightened.
Even so, Oslo came. His white light throbbed over me, illuminating my usual black-on-black ensemble of tailored trousers and fitted tunic, complete with overcoat. I lacked a crown, the Wilheimian crest, or the royal white cloth embroidered with sapphire stitching. Out of habit, I slipped my hands into my pant pockets and leaned into the heels of my boots.
“Aleksander Nocsis Feyreigner. I’ve waited a long time for the Frozen Prince’s arrival.” Oslo’s voice crashed with the ferocity of falling water against stone in my mind. It shook my bones and set my heart racing. The Frozen Prince. A title coined by the people for my looks and further hammered into place by my father. “Too aloof and detached,” he’d said. “How will you ever connect with your people?”
I’d connected with my people after all—it just took dying for me to find them.
“To be honest, I never had the intention of coming,” I thought back to what I assumed was Oslo’s spirit.
The orb wavered. “We know.” There was a collective sigh, a scraping of wind from multiple voices, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The gods? Perhaps. “And yet we waited. Your questions have been prepared. Answer to be deemed worthy of the crown.”
“I don’t want the crown.”
A tittering of voices squawked in contrasting octaves before Oslo’s rumbling chased them all away. “Why?”
“Because I don’t find myself worthy.”
Silence stretched in the endless abyss. Finally, a chuckle that sounded more like two stones scraping together. “Why?”
“Is that your only question?” I glanced around, wondering where Kost and Ozias had gone. No other form was visible in the swirling mess of shadows. Not even a flicker of red. Sweet relief doused my senses, and for a moment I wished I could stay. Forever caught in Oslo’s web and strangely free from the oath. While I was trapped, Leena would be safe.
Leena.
My heart pounded loud, and the orb drifted close. “I ask the questions. Why are you not worthy?”
“I murdered the one who deserved to rule. She was kind and just. My blood doesn’t afford me those same traits.”