“Sit up, little one,” the shorter figure said, tapping the bars with his stick as if knocking at my door. “We wish to speak with you.”
I remained still, willing them to move on and leave me in peace. I hadn’t felt so frightened since the day the soldiers came to my village. The guards did not have the gift and they still managed to make my life a misery. At least they were afraid of my fire. What could a Frostblood do to me?
“Do as he says,” said the man who stood tall and broad and imposing on the other side of the bars. “Sit up or I’ll find a bucket of water, and then we’ll see how you shiver.”
Defiance heated my skin. I unwound my arms and sat up.
The old man stepped closer. “How old are you?”
I frowned, searching my mind for the answer. Days blurred into months, which could bleed into years in the king’s prison.
He seemed to understand my uncertainty. “It has been two weeks since the vernal equinox.”
A dull ache spread through my chest. I’d lost nearly half a year. “Seventeen, then.”
“You burned the king’s soldiers, some of them badly,” he said. “Though with the help of skilled healers, they survived.”
“A real pity,” I replied, my voice as cold as the ice-coated floor.
He chuckled and looked to his companion. “It’s curious that her hair is black. The truly gifted often have fiery hair.” He reached through the bars toward me. “Show us your wrist.”
I brought my hands to my chest. “Why?”
“We only wish to see.” His voice was soft, gentle. Without thinking, I lifted my arm, the tattered sleeve falling open to reveal my thin wrist. He took the torch from his companion and held it close to the bars, the light falling on the thick vein that pulsed like a fat red worm under my skin.
“See how it shines so red?” he marveled as I pulled my arm away. He pushed back his own sleeve to show me the vein in his wrist, cold blue instead of crimson. “We wish no harm,” he assured me. “We are here to make an offer. If you complete the task we require, you will have your freedom.”
My heart fluttered in my throat. The word freedom rang in my head like the pure, clear note of a temple bell. The very thought of it was a painful temptation, to feel fresh air in my lungs, the kiss of sunshine on my skin, the play of wind in my hair. I trembled, torn between longing and terror.
There are worse things than dying slowly in a cell.
The two figures loomed still and silent in the flickering light, frost crackling under their feet. Their breath fogged the air with a cold mist.
“What is the task?” I asked.
The old man looked around and shook his head. “It is something you will be only too eager to help us with.”
“Why would I help a Frostblood with anything? Except to die.”
His weathered hands rose and pulled the hood off to reveal a lined face with skin darker than my own, long and lean with noble bones. His eyes, so light blue they were almost white, burned into me. His lips held the hint of a smile. “Frost and fire were friends once.”
“Not in my lifetime.”
He looked to his companion and back to me, his expression intent. “Then, perhaps this will interest you. Our target is the throne itself.”
I pressed my hands to the cold stone floor to steady myself. It was what I longed for, the only thing I’d wanted since the day the soldiers had taken everything from me: to kill the king, who had ordered that raid. If it were not for the king, there would have been no soldiers, no captain, no prison.
My mother would still be alive.
I met the pale gaze, my head spinning. They wanted me to kill the king for them, but at what cost? “You expect me to trust you?”
He spread his hands. “We are here, offering you a way out. If we are discovered, we will be hanged.”
“If you’re lucky.”
He nodded.
“And if I refuse?”
The taller man blew out a breath. “Then you can rot in here until you’re nothing but a pile of bones held together by chains.”
My lip curled. “One shout and the two of you will rot in here with me.”
“A charming offer,” said the broad-shouldered figure. “I can’t imagine why no one has come for you sooner.”
A muffled laugh from the old man. “Enough, Arcus. Do you agree to our terms, girl?”
I considered my options. From what I’d heard from the other prisoners, most of the Firebloods in the kingdom had been killed or driven away. Some were probably rotting in prisons, as I was. But sooner or later, the executioner would come.
I could likely escape from these men with greater ease than I could escape from the king’s prison.
I set my jaw and nodded.
The older man bent toward the keyhole and blew into it. Ice spiked around the opening, followed by a loud click. The door swung inward.
“And my chain?” I asked, motioning to my ankle.
He stepped close, leaning on his stick, and sent out another breath. Ice formed in the keyhole of the ankle cuff but melted a second later. He tried again, and again the ice melted.