Between Frost and Fury

by Chani Lynn Feener

She’d thought the Zane was skilled at being underhanded, but she was positive the Rex had just delivered a warning, and she wasn’t 100 percent certain she’d completely grasped it.

  “Many things”—the Rex turned to his son—“but I’ll settle for a few. I’ve received reports that the meeting between my council and Tilda’s went well. Can you confirm?”

  “Yes.” Trystan nodded confidently. “It did.”

  “So she’s a good a politician.” The creases at the corners of his dark eyes crinkled when he grinned. “A woman after my own heart. I wonder, however, if you’ll be able to keep it up, Lissa. There is a lot riding on this and your ability to calm both peoples into submission. If you can’t do so, steps will have to be taken.”

  “I can do it.” If it’d been Magnus she was speaking to, she would have retorted with something snappy and clever. Survival instincts kept her from doing the same with the Rex.

  “Wonderful to hear.” He leaned back in his chair, giving her a better view of the oddly shaped and jeweled medals plastered across the military uniform he was wearing. “I must admit, I was concerned when I heard you had removed the Lissa from the Vakar palace, Trystan. After our talk, I was under the impression you intended to remain there for some time.”

  “Circumstances made doing so difficult,” Trystan said without skipping a beat. If the blatant accusation bothered him, he didn’t show it.

  “Yes, that’s right. The arrival of Ander Ruckus Wux.” He rested his heavy stare on Delaney a second time. “And how are you taking his confinement, Lissa? I’ve been assured that you’re handling yourself, and any lingering emotions you might have, with the highest level of decorum. I’d heard the two of you were close. Strange, considering my son claims you have feelings for him.”

  “I’ve been assured the Ander won’t be harmed. That’s good enough for me,” she replied.

  “Is it?” He lifted his thick blond brows, but it was hard to tell if it was legitimate shock or a mere mockery of it. “You’re stronger than you’re given credit for, if that’s truly the case. Personally, if I was aware a loved one of mine was being held against their will, I would do everything in my power to free them. Nothing, and no one, would stand in my way. Not laws, not morality.” He chuckled again, though it was easier to catch that he was faking. “And certainly not my son.”

  Wow.

  She clenched her teeth when she saw Trystan dig his fingernails into his palms. His dad’s words were affecting him, even though from the front she had yet to even see him blink.

  “Okay,” she sent through their fitting without giving herself time to second-guess. “You win. My dad’s got nothing on yours.”

  She opted to ignore the part where he’d blatantly revealed he knew about her and Ruckus.

  “Delaney has her own motivations, Father,” Trystan said.

  “I’m sure she does.” The Rex propped his elbows onto the edge of the desk he was seated at. “Now that you’ve removed her from Vakar, when do you plan on bringing her home, son? Inkwell and Carnage are on the same landmass. I’d very much like to meet the lovely Lissa Delaney face-to-face.”

  This giant screen was as close to his face as she wanted to get. Had she really been hoping he’d be better than Magnus? Yeah. Right.

  “Technically, as we are still in Vakar territory, I haven’t pushed things too far. I fear taking her all the way to Carnage would be a step too much for the Vakar public. They’d no doubt take it as a personal affront.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, yes. I believe I heard something of the like. It must have been in the notes I got on the meeting. My mistake. Soon, though? You’ll bring her soon.”

  “The second doing so no longer bears the risk of insulting the Vakar people, of course, Father,” Trystan agreed.

  “Good.” He glanced between the two of them for a moment and then lifted a pen and began scrawling across some papers on his desk. “I’m sending something to you, son, something important. A member of the Tars. You’ll question him and inform me of any pertinent knowledge you uncover.”

  Had his dad just asked him to torture someone?

  “Certainly, Father.” Trystan bowed his head slightly.

  He actually bowed his head.

  Delaney realized her mouth was hanging open, and she quickly snapped it shut, glancing out of the corner of her eye over to the Rex. She almost let out a sigh of relief when she realized he was still too preoccupied with whatever he was writing to have noticed her slipup.

  “I’ll send a member of the high council to assist you,” the Rex continued.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “With the Lissa here, I assume you might need to step away. What if she needs you during the interrogation? It can’t simply stop because you choose to divert your attentions elsewhere.”

  Finally he deliberately set his pen aside and locked eyes with Trystan. “You can’t honestly tell me that after weeks of moaning and moping about the entire planet, you wouldn’t drop everything to spend a little extra time with your betrothed?”

  Delaney wasn’t sure what made her the more uncomfortable: the fact that he’d just said Trystan had all but been pining for her while she was away, or that she was pretty positive this whole thing had been a setup from the start. If the Rex showed them that paper before him, she wouldn’t be surprised to find doodles and scribbles on it. There was no way it was actually anything of importance.

  “While making sure Delaney is comfortable is important,” Trystan said, and now a slight strain in his voice could be heard, “I can assure you she will never come between me and my duties. My allegiance is to the crown, and my position, first and foremost. The Lissa is highly aware of this fact.”

  “She must be,” he said, nodding, “because she hardly looks surprised by your admission. I find that interesting.”

  “May I suggest which member of the council you send?” Without making it too obvious, Trystan moved his body closer to hers, so that the sides of their arms just barely brushed. It shouldn’t have been comforting, having him close, yet it was.

  “No, you may not,” the Rex said absently. “You’ll request Jackan, and while I may be old, I am not stupid. I know where Jackan’s true loyalties lie. You’ll get Rantan. Expect them by tomorrow evening, at the latest.”

  “Yes, Father.” It was getting harder and harder for him to contain himself, and if she noticed, the Rex must see it, as well.

  “Excellent.” He pursed his lips and then partially lifted his gaze from the paper on his desk to look over at Trystan. “Don’t you have something to attend to? The selecting of your new Sworn, perhaps?”

  “I do.” He forced a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone within a ten-mile radius. “We should get going or we’ll be late.”

  The Rex waved his hand, dismissing not only Trystan’s words but his son and Delaney as well. “Until again.”

  “Until again, Father.” Even though the Rex was no longer looking, Trystan bowed again, signaling with a look for Delaney to follow suit.

  She did, but there was no way the Rex even noticed. By the time she’d lifted her head again, the screen in front of them was blank and she was left staring at a white wall.

  CHAPTER 16

  For a while Trystan pretended like she wasn’t there, leading them to their next destination silently and swiftly. By the time five minutes had passed, Delaney was practically sprinting just to keep up with him.

  “He gets notes on our meetings?” she asked, out of breath. She got that he was trying to put distance between himself and what had just happened, but icing her out wasn’t beneficial for either of them.

  “Apparently so,” he replied.

  “You didn’t know.”

  “I assumed he’d have a talk with the Kint high council members who’d been in attendance,” he told her.

  “But he also knew you’d set up the selection process for a new Sworn,” she caught on. “He’s got a spy.”

  “It would seem so.” He gl
anced at her quickly and then away just as fast. “Yes. I was going to tell you where we were going this afternoon in the training room. I had no idea my father would demand a conference today.”

  He was apologizing because of their deal, and she felt appreciative that he intended to honor his half of the bargain. Maybe if he was willing to keep his word on this, the other things he’d promised her would also be upheld.

  “Does he have a reason to spy on you?” She tried to pose the question as casually as possible, but a note of curiosity slipped past.

  “You’re smarter than that, Delaney,” he countered.

  They turned into a new wing of the castle, its walls a pale sky blue. Across them depictions of towering mountains were painted in white, the image protruding slightly so that there was an embossing effect. Every ten feet or so they passed by a large window, and outside, the same snowy tundra could be seen for real.

  “Tell me more about this selection process.” Changing the subject seemed like the best course of action. He needed to be distracted, and frankly, so did she. All it’d taken was one conversation with the Rex to see why his son had turned out the way he had.

  Her father’s attempt at controlling her had molded her into a rebellious teen whose only goal had been to get far away. Unlike Trystan, she did love her parents, both of them, but as soon as she’d been able to leave and attend boarding school, she’d felt such relief.

  Trystan had gone a different route. He’d chosen to mirror his dad’s aloofness. To hone the skills he was being taught and use them against the people around him, including the Rex. In a way, his ultimate goal was the same as Delaney’s had been. Distance from Daddy dearest.

  He was just willing to go to extreme lengths to get it, and he didn’t care who got hurt along the way.

  “Tellers are allowed to apply for the position…,” he began, completely unaware of the turn her thoughts had taken. “I’ve had a stack of applications on my desk since Brightan’s death. I’ve managed to narrow them down to the top twenty men and women I believe would be a good fit for the two of us. We’ll review their files together and choose.”

  “Is this usually how it works?” It was a miracle the Rex didn’t simply select for him, being that he was so clearly the controlling type.

  “You’re wondering why my father hasn’t forced me to select a replacement already,” he volunteered, seeing right through her. “As soon as I came of age, the decision was up to me. My father doesn’t have a Sworn himself. He believes true leaders need to be capable of taking care of themselves. With how well I’ve been trained, he thinks my having a commander head my guard is a sign of weakness.”

  “Zane Trystan.” Sanzie was suddenly standing in front of them. “Lissa Delaney. The files have been set out for you.”

  “Thank you, Teller,” Trystan said.

  Sanzie bowed and twisted on her heel, disappearing back around the corner.

  “I had them reprinted in English,” he told Delaney as they entered yet another room. “Aside from a few symbols I’ll have to explain, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to read them.”

  “Awesome.” Even though she’d meant it sarcastically, part of her was actually a little excited.

  * * *

  THE EXCITEMENT DIED down half an hour later. She rubbed at her temple, trying to quell the migraine that was beginning, and leaned her elbow on the surface of the long table they were seated at.

  Spread out in front of her were a handful of open files, glossy photos of men and women staring back at her. None of them were smiling.

  Most of it had been translated, like he’d said, but there were a series of symbols indicating things like rank, history, and skill sets that she was having a hard time picking up on.

  “What’s this again?” She pressed her finger against a black mark shaped like a hashtag balancing on its corner legs. It looked a lot like one she’d seen a few pages back on another file, though she thought for sure that one had a dot in it somewhere, and therefore couldn’t be the same.

  Trystan was busy perusing another file, and he absently glanced over before flipping a page. “It means she’s trained in all eight fritz settings.”

  Delaney hadn’t been aware there were eight. “That could be useful,” she said. “What about this one?” She pointed to another shaped like a circle with a W drawn partially inside. The end of it hung outside the right of the circle.

  “She fought over five years in the war,” he answered. “If the symbol is upside down, it means they’ve served over ten. On its left side, over fifteen, and on its right, over twenty. Anything less than five doesn’t get a marker at all.”

  “That seems harsh.” They’d served either way, right?

  “Not for what we’re looking for it isn’t,” he disagreed. “I want someone with experience to take the position. Someone guaranteed to keep you safe.”

  “Us,” she corrected. “Keep us safe.”

  “I fought alongside this one.” Trystan pushed the file she’d been looking at aside and replaced it with the one he’d been holding. “He’s good. Reliable and loyal. What’s more, he’s trained in three different forms of martial arts and has extensive weapons training.”

  “How intense do you expect this whole protecting thing to get?” she asked. “Ruckus never had to deal with extensive anything, and I was basically attacked on the daily. Why do you think your new Sworn has to be so highly trained?”

  He grunted and, at her stare, leaned back on his armrest to better face her. “While your Ander is too young to have served the Vakar army as many years as this man, I assure you, Ruckus Wux is more qualified for this position than most of these”—he made a sweeping gesture at the files spread before them—“people are. It’s unfortunate he wasn’t born Kint.”

  Delaney waited a moment, sure there was going to be more, surprised when there wasn’t.

  “What?” He lifted a blond brow.

  “You just complimented Ruckus,” she said. “Without adding any insults.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” He readjusted himself in his seat, pointedly returning his attention to the stack of files. “I’m allowed to admire his military prowess.”

  She choked on a laugh and cleared her throat while he glared. “Sorry. In my culture that would have been taken way differently. Like, you-just-hit-on-Ruckus differently.”

  “And you find my punching him funny suddenly?” He was genuinely confused, which would have been adorable if not for the fact that he was Trystan, and therefore scary and intimidating all the time. Even with his lips pursed like that and his brow furrowed.

  “No, that’s not—” She took a breath to bank down another chuckle. “It’s slang. It means to flirt. For instance, you might go up to him and say, ‘I enjoy your military prowess. Come home with me.’”

  The particular shade of red he turned was priceless. This time she was unable to hold the laughter back. She could feel tears at the corners of her eyes, and she folded her arms on the table and buried her head between them to try to keep him from seeing just how hilarious she found this.

  Of course, it didn’t work—probably because her entire body was shaking with it, and even her muffled sounds were obvious—and by the time she’d gotten ahold of herself and glanced back over, his embarrassment had mixed with defensiveness. She could easily pick out that familiar darkness lingering behind his eyes, and she sobered as best as she was able before resting a hand on his arm.

  “It’s a joke, Trystan,” she assured him. “Try not to take everything so seriously.”

  He dropped his gaze to where she was touching him, the corners of his mouth tipping downward.

  She quickly pulled away and began to shuffle through some of the files. “I can see why Earth wasn’t to your liking. You probably couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying.”

  “I have a hebi,” he said, obviously affronted by her suggestion.

  Apparently, it wasn’t the best with slang, if Trystan’s complete lac
k of knowledge was any indicator.

  This was hardly the first time he’d been confused by something she’d said. She tried to think back on her conversations with Ruckus before they’d returned to Earth, but she couldn’t recall if he’d ever had the same problem, at least to the extent the Zane did.

  “Do hebis have different settings?” she wondered aloud, realizing that would explain it. “Is that why you can’t figure out what I’m really saying?”

  “Can you understand me when I use slang?” he rebuffed.

  “You’ve used slang around me?” Weird. She hadn’t noticed. “Pretty sure that would fall under the category of humor, which is a thing you don’t do.”

  “I can be humorous,” he stated, seeming to have forgotten he’d told her not to expect him to be when she’d first arrived.

  “No.” She shook her head. “You can be mean. You do that scary thing that you find funny but the rest of us find intimidating as all hell. Honestly,” she said, knowing she was taking a real risk in admitting this, “if I hadn’t caught you blushing just now, I would have sworn your only settings were angry and arrogant.”

  He was quiet for a moment, staring at her with an impossible expression on his face that she couldn’t decipher. Then: “You think those are the only emotions I’m capable of?”

  “Sometimes you mix them both together and do them at the same time,” she said. “That’s impressive.”

  He made an odd humming sound in the back of his throat and then pressed both palms against the table, pushing himself to standing. She watched as he adjusted the hem of his shirt, but he was no longer looking back at her.

  “Excuse me.” There’d been a note of something in his tone, and it took her a second to place it. But by that time, he was already halfway across the room, on his way to the door.

  “Trystan.” She stood fast enough that her chair legs scraped against the ground, and made her way over to him. When he acted like he hadn’t heard her, she picked up the pace and reached out to latch on to his wrist. “Hey.”

  He stopped and twisted his body slightly so that he was angled partially her way, though he still didn’t meet her gaze. It became painfully obvious he had no intention of speaking, which bothered her more than it should.