The presence of so many people in the Winter Palace made for a fine start to a tension headache. I always hated playing hostess, given I cared little for the comforts of the leeches or other court hangers-on, but appearances were everything. Fortunately, I was across from Melody at dinner. Unfortunately, I was expected to attend most of all to the King in Black, seated at His right hand. Normally the arrangement would have suited me fine; however, with our last conversation, I felt the weight of His expectations chafing like an ill-fitted collar. I’d stacked the table to my advantage, at least: Hallen was beside me and Naltheme across from him, leaving Teth the closest of the vampire lords. Rhandiir and Varys probably took the distance as a slight, but they knew better than to say so.


    Better to merely presume my low opinion of them than ask and remove all doubt publicly. A scathing tongue lashing from the Beloved still carried more weight than merely my own displeasure. His Majesty was always watching, always listening.


    I had agonized over what to do with Shira, tempted to keep her out of Varys’s view for her own sake. However, that meant she could end up cornered somewhere out of my sight by him. Thus, with some reluctance on my part, she was playing the part of an honor guard, never far from me and never out of my line of sight.


    The ceremonial changing of command had gone smoothly enough, probably because there was far less opportunity for knives to come out. Dinner had far more chances for them to abuse my hospitality and offend me, or scheme in quiet tones further down the table.


    “Is something the matter, Lady Frostborn? You have been unusually quiet,” Teth said solicitously when she settled into her seat. She’d dressed exquisitely for the occasion in a sleeveless ruby gown that exposed the tattoos across her arms and shoulders.


    “Unusually tolerant,” I corrected bluntly, watching Varys like a hawk as one of my servants refilled his goblet with blood. She was living, which made her a target, but I would gut him before letting him feed on my household staff. She moved out of his reach carefully, and he was smart enough not to bite or grope with my eyes on him, though I doubted she’d appreciated whatever he’d whispered to her given her pallor.


    “If I didn’t know better, I might think you were worried,” Teth said, gesturing around at various members of my honor guard positioned nearby. I’d made them obvious this time, hiding Shira among their number. She was quiet and, most importantly, armed and armored. I’d also positioned her next to Melody, just in case.


    “I find their presence only troubles those who plan on troubling me.” The coolness in those syllables seemed to amuse Teth further.


    “Must we needle at each other, Frostborn?” Teth said, swirling the blood in her goblet. Her ruby lips formed something almost approaching a pout. “His Majesty must find it so disappointing.”


    The King in Black was utterly inscrutable at my side, still wreathed in His customary aura of cold despite the blue flames that danced in empty eye sockets. I knew His thoughts were probably a thousand miles away, turning over some magical quandary, but it was impossible to be certain how much He was listening to the conversation. At least, until I felt the touch of bone across my knuckles. I glanced down to see His skeletal fingers resting on the back of my sword hand. “They are beneath you, my rose,” He said near my ear. “Eagles do not snap at flies.”


    I nodded in sullen obedience, glancing further down the table to display my disinterest in Teth’s games as I moved my hand to my goblet.


    “At least they’re pretty to look at, Teth,” Varys said with a grin, his attention focusing on Shira. I don’t think he recognized her here, so different from the frightened thing I’d drawn out of his tent. A definite hardness settled into her expression when she felt his gaze.


    Anger boiled in me, a roiling cauldron barely lidded. I felt the itch for steel in my sword hand and turned my head towards him, pointedly ignoring Melody’s concern. “Your shriveled little mind must be on its last miserable legs, if lust is the only thought you can contain.”


    Rhandiir’s hand shot out to grab Varys’s wrist, but the younger vampire had already stood, knocking his chair back. Apparently he was spoiling for a fight as much as I was. “I will not be insulted by–”


    “Finish that sentence.” Suddenly we were all aware of the presence of the King in Black, a withering cold blooming outwards from Him, snuffing candles along the banquet table. I saw the hand that had covered mine move to point menacingly at Varys.


    Varys stopped, jaw dropping slightly as he realized the magnitude of the misstep. “Your Majesty, I–”


    “Finish that sentence or I will finish it for you.”


    I almost pitied Varys. Almost.


    He coughed and cleared his throat, words coming out nearly in a stammer. Varys was fundamentally a bully, used to punching down at those weaker than him. When confronted with the very real power of the King in Black, he was more inclined to roll over and show his belly, hoping for acceptance of his submission. “...by Lady Frostborn.”


    “Those are not the words that burned so brightly in your thoughts.”


    Varys’s expression twisted as he fought against the compulsion, but he could only resist for a fraction of a second. His initially intended words spilled out…much to his horror. “I will not be insulted by a north-man bitch who whored her way to greatness!”


    Teth set her fork down delicately and scooted her chair back from the table slightly, to avoid being caught in the crossfire. Even Melody, normally so level and composed, blanched visibly and leaned back in her seat.


    If I had been angry before, the rage was incandescent now.


    “You do not even begin to understand the power of loyalty and sacrifice, Varys,” the King in Black said with a deep, resonating menace. “Nor do you respect the generosity and toleration that has been given to you. You insult my Beloved in her very home, spitting upon her hospitality. I see that Heca’s warning was insufficient.” The fires seemed to burn brighter in His eye sockets, and I knew that while the King in Black did not experience emotions like a human, His displeasure was still a thing of legend.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    “Your Majesty, please, you gave me no chance!” Varys dropped to his knees, ready to grovel, but the King in Black had no heart to be moved to pity him.


    That was my role, and I was not about to save the vampire from himself.


    “Observe, all of you in attendance, for thus will it always be to those who slight or harm my Beloved.”


    A bright blue flame flashed from the King in Black’s hand directly at Varys. What happened next was gruesome, even by my standards. The vampire screamed as his body began to turn itself inside out, piece by piece. Bones splintered and crawled their way out of his body as he fell to the ground, spattering the stone with his blood. His vampiric regeneration tried to compensate, but the spell far outstripped its pace. The only thing his natural abilities could do was shackle him to life as the magics ripped him apart piece by piece. The screaming seemed to last an eternity, but the following silence was even worse, broken only by snaps and pops and wet twisting sounds as tendons and ligaments were dragged along with his bones.


    The King in Black rose from His seat and stepped around the table, extending a single finger out towards the wreckage on the floor. The flames intensified around Varys and I heard his soul howl as it was ripped from his now disintegrating body, but it would not go to the afterlife. Instead, it flowed into the King in Black’s hand, where it was crushed in a bone fist.


    Agonizing cold flashed through my ring, but it was so brief that I barely noticed it. The silence stretched over the party like a funeral shroud, grim and terrifying in its aspect. All that remained of Varys was a stain upon the floor.


    Rhandiir in particular looked horrified, yet cowed into submission. It was Teth who watched not the King in Black, but me. Her searching gaze sought something in my face, some hint of my own nature or perhaps the connection between the King in Black and I.


    My secrets are not about to become yours, Teth. I gave her nothing to see, expression blank and mask-like. I glanced at Shira once Teth’s attention had shifted back to the King in Black. The young woman looked horrified and sick, her hand gripping her sword. I flicked my fingers in a quick sign at her to stand down.


    She let go of her sword hilt before the King in Black saw and faded into the background once again.


    His Majesty settled back into his seat and raised a hand, gesturing pointedly for all of us to resume the meal. Servants moved forward to relight the candles.


    Yet even if He found the display untroubling, sickness sat in my stomach. Not at the loss of Varys or the display of power, but the knowledge that the ripples of that action would be felt across the Eternal Kingdom. Rhandiir would blame me for the death of his spawn, Teth was clearly after something she thought I possessed, and it all sat in my gut like a lump of hot lead. Perhaps, I realized as my temper cooled, perhaps it would have been wisest to intervene.


    Dinner was an almost silent affair for the rest of the evening, with only Teth and Naltheme able to carry on their conversation. I brooded across from Melody, Hallen seemed like a man poised near a floor covered in eggshells, and Rhandiir’s sour countenance confirmed my suspicions. Maric just tore into flesh and devoured it without concern, a general to his core with little interest in the machinations of the Court beyond his own few schemes.


    When it was over, I retreated into my rooms without His Majesty’s company, dismissing my honor guard with a wave of my hand. Only Shira stayed.


    I glanced over at her. “I do not need your concern,” I said bluntly, recognizing her furrowed brow for what it was.


    But your hand… she signed.


    I looked down, turning my palm face up. Just on either side of the golden band molded to my flesh was a blistered burn, like the kind made by winter’s unforgiving maw. Fortunately it only inflicted the palm side of my hand. I had concealed it well during dinner, numb to its cold, but enough feeling was returning to the damaged flesh to render it far more painful now. “It is a triviality.”


    Shira shook her head. I will fetch Haven.


    “His skill is not needed,” I said quietly, waving a hand towards the shelf that stored healing supplies in my room. “There is salve and bandage here.”


    And you will apply it one-handed? Shira moved over to the shelf I had indicated, picking up both.


    She had a point. I couldn’t very well bandage my own hand with anything approaching grace. “And I suppose you will?” My tone stayed as caustic as a dragonling’s blood.


    Priestesses of Ishal learn much of the healing arts, Shira signed once she’d set the bandages on the side table alongside the little jar of burn salve. Besides, once you cleaned and bandaged my wounds.


    I sat down at the table and extended my hand, a sigh building in my chest. “Get it over with,” I said, knowing full well that the salve would be agony before it soothed. I flinched when she touched my wrist, not because it hurt, but because something about the warmth of fingertips against my skin reminded me of dangerous things. Her brow furrowed with concern, but I shook my head and let her work, stilling myself whether I wanted to or not. There was no sense in squirming.


    How long had it been since anyone but Haven or Melody had tended to me? I realized that I couldn’t remember. The burning of the salve against my damaged flesh quickly pulled me out of that thought, however. I gripped the table’s edge with my other hand, forcing myself not to hiss in pain. The frostbite of the King in Black’s magic was always especially agonizing.


    Shira lingered over my hand, winding the bandage with care. She avoided touching the ring at all times. Then her question came, a flicking of fingers with the hand not resting on mine. What happened when he…why did it hurt you?


    “It would be wiser not to ask questions like that. I might have to kill you.”


    I saw his soul enter the ring. The priestess hesitated, watching me with trepidation. I saw the energy merge with you.


    I chose my next words with extreme care. “I know you have questions, Shira, but a word to the wrong person about what you have seen will destroy us both, along with many, many more.”


    The stories here in Sanctum say that the souls of Shana’ai fueled the rise of the Lich-King: that he used their power in a dark ritual to become what He is, that they were consumed within his phylactery.


    A coldness settled into my blood. Shira was fumbling at the edge of an understanding that surpassed both Teth and Naltheme, but it would mean far more to them than it did to her. “You should know better than to listen to idle prattling,” I said bluntly.


    Why did it hurt you, Frostborn? In her luminous eyes, I saw something that worried me much more than accusation: a deep and abiding concern.


    I looked down at my bandaged hand. “Some things are not for you to know.”