The Heir: A Snow White Retelling (The Twisted Kingdoms Book 3)

by Frost Kay

  “Not far. Can you make it?”

  The wolf nodded and strode after Briggs, his steps slower and less graceful than normal.

  Pyre followed, his heart pounding in his chest as their ragtag group traversed the coast along the cliffside, unseen from prying eyes. Twice he stumbled and almost dropped his mate. Not once did she complain or fight him. It was like he held her shell: her body was there, but her mind was far away. Brine kept pace beside him, constantly flicking concerned looks at Tempest.

  His steps picked up once their destination was in sight. He easily scaled down the rocks to a dry cave that hovered high above the writhing ocean. Smiles greeted him that faded to grim expressions as they spotted who he held in his arms.

  “What happened?” Swiftly demanded, pushing through the men.

  “The king,” Pyre said as he made a beeline for the fire near the back of the cave. He knelt on a pallet and placed Tempest as close to the fire as he dared. He barely heard the happy reunions of his men as he opened the front of her borrowed cloak so the heat of the fire could warm her.

  Briggs rounded the fire and dropped to his knees. He placed his large midnight hand on her forehead and then at the base of her neck. His lips thinned.

  “She’s gone into shock. Her pulse is weak.”

  “Is she going to die?” Pyre asked, feeling nauseous.

  “Not as long as we’re here. We need to work heat back into her limbs and keep her core warm.” Briggs glanced around the group of men that were murmuring softly among themselves. “Brine! I need you to shift. Tempest will need your body heat.”

  A low groan sounded, and then a huge, black wolf edged along the side of the cave. He crept closer and hesitated, his tired, silver eyes flicking to Pyre who nodded, not caring if another male cuddled up with his mate, as long as she stayed warm.

  “Lay her on her side,” Briggs said.

  Pyre was careful as he lay her on her left side, making sure she faced the fire. He lifted the cloak at her back for the wolf. Brine circled, dropped to his belly, and crawled up until he pressed against her back and thighs. Pyre dropped the cloak over them before taking Tempest’s right hand to massage her fingers.

  Swiftly and Briggs each took one of Tempest’s pale feet and began to do the same. Slowly, his men took places around the fire. The men who’d survived the king’s drowning were already in new clothes.

  “Will she be okay?” Rayma asked, his wet, shaggy, blond hair hanging in his face.

  “She’s a fighter,” Pyre rumbled. “A little cold water won’t best her.” He tried to smile, but it felt brittle on his face. Shifters could survive the elements with ease. Their makeup enabled them to adjust to different environments. Humans were so fragile in comparison. He swallowed hard as his finger traced over a blue vein in her hand that stood out against her white skin.

  Please be okay.

  As if his prayer was heard, she twitched in his grasp, and a small shiver worked through her body.

  “That’s it,” Briggs grunted. “We want her to shiver. It means her body temperature is rising.” The healer worked his hands up her leg, kneading the muscles. “Baby girl, you need to talk to us.”

  Another shiver worked through her body, and Pyre readjusted her head on his leg, fanned her wet hair out, and began working on her other hand, feeling sick. Why had she risked her life like that?

  Rayma pulled a shirt from his pack, shuffled over, and began drying Tempest’s hair.

  Pyre glanced at the young man. “Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing. She saved my life.” He frowned. “We should have known Destin would do this. It’s a miracle that half of us made it out alive.”

  Dartain, a lanky man with curly orange hair, kicked a pebble, his expression hard. “If we’d been able to intercept the execution as planned—”

  “There was no guarantee we would have all survived,” Pyre said sternly. “Lives still would have been lost.”

  “Not our lives.” Dartain crossed his arms, his cat-like eyes shiny. “My brother would be here if it weren’t for her.”

  Pyre resisted the urge to sigh. There were always going to be members of his faction who did not approve of her, no matter what she did. Tempest had brought the Hounds to their cause. She had placed herself at the side of King Destin to try to control him somewhat. So, while there might have been members of the Dark Court who did not approve of her, Pyre knew that nobody would betray him—or the cause—because of her.

  A weighted silence settled over the group as Pyre mulled over what to say.

  “I’m s-s-sorry,” Tempest’s voice rasped softly. “M-my fault-t-t.”

  Pyre’s gaze flew down to her pained faced. “Love?”

  She didn’t look at him but at Dartain.

  The cat shifter stared her down. “You take responsibility for this?”

  “Y-yes.”

  Dartain glanced away and swallowed before nodding curtly. “You did your best in an awful situation. More lives would have been lost if you hadn’t arrived when you did. My brother knew the risks when he became involved.”

  “Doesn’t m-m-make it okay.” Her words dripped with guilt and despair.

  “No, but the king will pay.” Dartain stood and glared down at her. “Do better next time, but don’t hold on to this. There is only one responsible party: Destin. He’s the one who gave those orders. No one else.” He turned his back on the group, stormed to the mouth of the cave, and sat at the entrance, his head bowed in grief.

  The group quieted, their eyes moving from the fire to Tempest like they couldn’t figure her out. Most of these men hadn’t met her before. Her shivers worsened as Rayma finished drying her hair and scooted back, his brow furrowed.

  “What now, then? Do you know who attacked the princess? If that hadn’t happened, then we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. It was the catalyst for all of this.”

  “We have no leads,” Pyre hissed, hating that they’d been blindsided. “It certainly wasn’t anyone working for the Dark—”

  “…prince,” Tempest coughed out, her eyes glassy as she stared at the fire.

  Briggs released her leg and poured a cup of pine-needle tea. “Sit her up.”

  Tempest moaned as Pyre hauled her up so that the healer could give her some tea. She swallowed a mouthful sloppily, some dribbling down her chin. He wiped it away as Brine wiggled until his snout was free from the cloak and huffed. She turned her head away and coughed wetly. Briggs scowled at the sound.

  “Don’t like that one bit,” he growled.

  “Blood on his c-clothes,” Tempest chattered. “He-he lurks about. Threatened m-me.”

  Pyre kept his expression calm, but inside, he raged. Maven’s crimes were notorious, and yet, anyone with evidence ended up dead. If that bastard had hurt one hair on his mate’s head…

  “We’ll set up some of our servants within the palace to watch him,” he finally said, pleased that he was able to keep his anger from bleeding into his voice.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “So cold.”

  “Brine, come around front,” Briggs commanded. He glanced up at Pyre. “You can heat her back. Skin to skin.”

  Pyre set her head gently on the pallet, pulled off his damp clothes, and took Brine’s spot. The wolf circled Tempest and wiggled into her embrace. Pyre hissed as her cold skin touched him from chest to knee. He threw an arm over her waist, making sure it wasn’t too low or too high, and tucked his left arm under her head. She didn’t make a sound but slowly melted into his embrace, her feet pressing to his shins.

  How many times had he imagined them like this? In all his dreams, it had involved a lot more kissing and touching. But this? Pyre pressed his nose to the hair at her temple. This was everything. This was what he’d been looking for. Companionship. Intimacy. Love…

  His heart hammered as he stared down at the woman in his arms. She was what he wanted. Needed. Emotion clogged his throat as Brine nosed her hand, and she shakily caressed his snou
t from his nose to the spot between his brows. His silver eyes drooped until he dropped into sleep. Pyre had never seen the wolf show that much affection to anyone. His kitsune counterpart didn’t like another male so close to his mate, but Pyre knew there was nothing romantic between the two. Tempest was part of the pack to Brine, and she’d accepted the wolf as family.

  Pyre wanted that.

  Accept what she is giving you.

  He pulled her closer as her shivers lessened and her muscles relaxed. This was the closest she’d allowed him without drawing weapons since the forest. He eyed the wolf and how Tempest slowly ran her hand along his fur. At some point, she’d let Brine in and shut Pyre completely out. He wanted in, wanted so badly to be let in.

  You have no one to blame but yourself.

  At every turn, he’d lied or kept her in the dark until she’d ended up taking matters into her own hands. He couldn’t expect trust from her if he didn’t reciprocate it. The broken part of himself rebelled at that thought. Being open meant he could be hurt, too. If he let her see everything, would she stay or run? He wanted to run from all the things he’d done in his life.

  Be honest or let her go.

  He lifted his head and eyed his men, then jerked his chin toward the entrance. They all took the silent hint and moved about the cave, giving him a little privacy. Sure, they could hear what he was about to say, but the illusion of privacy was more for his mate. Briggs scooted away and made himself comfortable against the rear wall before closing his eyes.

  “Tempest?” Pyre whispered in her right ear. Her fingers didn’t stop petting the sleeping wolf, and his hand itched to take hers, to slide their fingers together and never let go.

  “He lied,” Tempest croaked, the words so quiet that Pyre barely heard them over the crackling flames.

  Pyre could only nod. “It’s what he does.”

  “I feel so—no, I am so stupid.” She tucked her chin down and pressed her face against his bicep. “I cost your men their lives. And for what? My own pride? I—”

  “Enough,” he said gently but firmly. “Did you not listen to a word of what Dartain said? There was no guarantee we could have saved anyone at the execution. Clearly, you knew this; otherwise, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to save Brine on your own.”

  “But—” she choked out.

  “The king cost them their lives, Temp, not you. Surely, you must be able to see that? The men he planned to kill had nothing to do with Ansette’s attack. He knew that, and, yet, he condemned them and ordered their deaths.”

  Her body began to shake again, but in broken silent sobs. He didn’t think twice about hugging her tightly and kissing the crown of her head. He began to stroke her hair, and she cried harder. He wanted to tell her everything would be okay. No more souls would be lost. She didn’t have to go back to the palace. She didn’t have to go back to Destin.

  But all of those things were lies.

  After a few heart-wrenching minutes, her shoulders stopped shaking, and her sobs quieted. She sucked in one deep breath after another, as if trying to calm herself, and he did the same. There was something reassuring about how easily their breathing synced.

  In. Hold. Out. Their hearts slowed but beat in unison.

  This is right. This is where she belongs.

  Her snowy shoulder was exposed, and he leaned closer to kiss the skin but paused, closing his eyes. He would not manipulate the situation. Instead, Pyre pulled the cloak over it and tucked her in.

  “How does someone lose their way so much?” Tempest rasped.

  He frowned, confused by the question. “Who are we talking about?”

  “The King. Destin. How does someone become such a heartless…monster? Didn’t he have people around who loved him? Why does he want people to suffer so much? Just…why?”

  “I don’t really know when my sire lost himself,” he said, fatigue and contentment riding him hard. Winter’s bite, he could fall asleep like this. “Perhaps he was always like this. His father hated Talagans after the foreign princess tried to kill him. Maybe he was just a product of his environment. I didn’t care enough—and still don’t care—to find out.”

  He frowned when his mate slowly stiffened in his arms. “Temp, what’s wrong?”

  She tried to pull away from him, but he kept his arm around her waist. Pyre went over his words and wanted to bang his head against the stone floor at what he’d revealed. All it took was his mate’s warm, pliable body against his and he was spilling all of his secrets. For a long, drawn-out moment, she said nothing. He gritted his teeth and resolved himself to stand firm. If he wanted her to let him in—if he wanted her to accept him—he had no other choice but to be honest.

  She turned her head, her bloodshot gray eyes sweeping over his face. “Just who the hell are you, Pyre?” she whispered.

  He smiled grimly. There was no turning back now.

  “A prince, I guess.”

  Twenty

  Tempest

  Now that it had been said, she couldn’t unsee the resemblance between Destin and Pyre. How had she not known—or at least suspected—that the kitsune was in some way related to the king?

  You’re a fool.

  Pyre held her gaze as she stared at him. She’d never seen golden eyes on anyone else but the two of them. Just as her lilac hair screamed that she was resolutely a Madrid, the molten amber eyes should have given away the fox’s heritage. How had she not seen it before?

  Because people don’t look beneath the surface.

  She was a bloody Hound, for Dotae’s sake. Tempest had been trained to look beneath the surface. Pyre blinked his amber eyes, warm and yet wary. But that was a difference—Destin’s gaze was cold and calculating, whereas the kitsune was capable of affection and mercy. Or was he? Pyre was also just as ruthless as his royal sire when he took on his other personas.

  Was the warmth just another mask?

  I want you. It’s not just a game.

  Had he even meant those words or were they just another ploy, another way to get back at his father? Another shiver racked her body, and Pyre pulled her closer to his chest. Questions raced through her mind, but she could not decide which to ask first. A dull roar began in the back of her head, as well as a ticking clock. How long had she been gone? Surely, someone would notice her absence soon, if they had not done so already.

  She swallowed and moved her attention over his shoulder, not able to hold his gaze any longer. Interrogating the Jester would have to wait. Time to return to the palace. Although…there was one question that had to be asked before she could, in good conscience, return to the palace.

  “Do you plan to rule?” Tempest rasped, forcing herself to match Pyre’s intense gaze. “You told me before that you have no plan to. Was that a lie?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Not a lie. I have no intention of ruling.”

  Tempest examined his expression, which seemed to be open and honest, but could she trust it? Silence settled between them. It was clear Pyre was waiting for her to make the next move—to show that she accepted his origins, or wished to know more, or to outright reject him. She didn’t have the energy, nor the wits, to do any of those things. It felt as if she had sand in her eyes, ice in her veins, and thorns in her throat. Tempest laid her head down and continued combing her fingers through Brine’s dark fur.

  Pyre’s breath gusted against the back of her neck as he sighed, causing more goosebumps to raise on her arms. Not from the temperature this time. She gritted her teeth as he eased his body away from hers and then tucked the cloak around her frame. Tempest heard him stand but didn’t dare to look. While she hadn’t protested the heat he’d provided, it wasn’t until her limbs had warmed that she’d realized that his bare skin pressed against her own. Her cheeks warmed, and she rested her face against Brine, hoping it would go away.

  Clothes rustled softly.

  “You need to get back to the palace,” he said. “You’ve chosen your path. You need to do your best not to ruin the
progress you’ve made.”

  Her spine stiffened. How dare he.

  “As if you had to tell me that,” Tempest snapped. She released her hold on Brine and painfully sat up. Pyre stepped forward, as if to help. He only wore trousers, his dark skin rippling. She glared at him. “Don’t touch me.”

  The wolf cracked open a silver eye and huffed, his snout pressing against her hand. She bent low and pressed a kiss to the musky fur on the top of his head, then stood on shaking legs.

  Briggs rolled his eyes and frowned at her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To the palace where I can do my duty,” she bit out.

  Tempest clutched the long gray cloak to her body and lurched toward the cave opening. She’d not stay another damn minute if it meant being in the same place as the infuriating kitsune. A hand curled around her right bicep, and she stopped. She glanced around the cave, noting that all eyes were on her.

  “You can’t think to go out there by yourself,” Pyre growled. “It’s snowing, and you’ll catch your death!”

  She slowly lifted her chin and locked gazes with the lying male. “I swam in the ocean in the middle of winter and didn’t die. I won’t die now. And I’ll have company. Brine?” The wolf’s wet snout touched her left hand. “Now, let me go or you won’t like the consequences.”

  Pyre released her slowly, anger and irritation lighting up his features. “So damn stubborn.” He grabbed a pair of boots from the floor and shoved them into her arms. “Your boots.”

  Tempest took them from him and swept from the cave as gracefully as she could. The winter wind sliced though her, and she staggered as she slipped on her boots outside. She hugged the cloak closer to her bare body and began trudging up the incline.

  It would be a miserable hike home.

  Twenty-One

  Pyre

  Every step she took hurt him.

  Pyre followed close, making sure to stay far enough behind that she wouldn’t notice her extra escorts. Briggs moved nimbly through the rocks beside him, a silent companion.