Page 95 of The Stolen Heir

“That’s another good reason for me to go in your place,” Tiernan puts in.

“Pragmatist,” says Oak, as though it’s a dirty word.

We get as close as we dare and then hollow out snow into a cavern to wait in until nightfall. Oak and Tiernan pull their hands and feet tight to their bodies, but the prince’s lips still take on a bluish color.

I unclasp the cloak that I’ve been wearing and pass it to him.

He shakes his head. “Keep it. You’ll freeze.”

I push it at him. “I’m never cold.”

He gives me an odd look, perhaps thinking of me lying with him by the fire, but must be too chilled to debate.

As they go over our plan one more time, I start to believe that this is possible. We get in, steal back Mab’s remains, and leave with the general. If something goes wrong, I suppose we have the deer heart in the reliquary, but since Oak’s bluff seems like a long shot, I hope we don’t have to rely on it. Instead, I concentrate on remembering that I still have the power of command over Lady Nore.

And yet, as we approach the Citadel, I cannot help but recall being lost in this snow, weeping while tears froze on my cheeks. Just being here makes me feel like that monster child again, unloved and unlovable.

As night falls, Tiernan crawls out of our makeshift dwelling. “If you’re going in, then at least let me be the one to go down and make sure all is how we expect it.”

“You need not—” Oak begins, but Tiernan cuts him off with a glare.

“Wren ought to stay behind with the heart,” Tiernan says. “If you’re not planning on confronting Lady Nore, then it doesn’t matter if Wren can command her, and Wren’s no use to you in a fight.”

“I could be useful in avoiding one,” I remind him.

Oak does not seem moved by Tiernan’s argument. “If she’s willing to come, then she’s coming.”

Tiernan throws up his hands and storms off through the snow, obviously angry with both of us.

“I do think I may need you inside the Citadel,” Oak tells me. “Although I wish that wasn’t the case.”

I am glad he wants me there, though I am no knight or spy. “Perhaps all three of us could go in,” I venture.

“He needs to stay here, lest we get caught,” Oak says. “He’ll keep the heart with him and bargain for our return with it.”

A moment later, Tiernan ducks his head back inside, the owl-faced hob on his shoulder. “You two can climb the side to the birdie entrance. Titch has been watching the patrol shifts, and they’re sloppy. Makes it hard to know when they are going to happen, but there’s a window of opportunity when they do.”

Oak nods and pushes himself to his feet. “Very well, then,” he says. “No time like the present.”

“One more thing,” Tiernan says. “There are trolls on the battlements, along with those stick creatures and some falcon soldiers.”

“But I thought the trolls were trapped . . . ,” I begin, but trail off because there are so many possibilities. They could be trolls that do not come from the Stone Forest and are therefore not subject to its curse. But when I think about the heaps of clothing, and the mounted heads, I wonder if what we witnessed were the remains of sacrifices meant to appease the ancient troll kings to open the way from the forest.

My blood was spilled for the glory of the Kings of Stone who rule from beneath the world, but my body belongs to the Queen of Snow.

At that unsettling thought, I follow Tiernan and Oak out of our snow tunnel and into the frigid air.

We stay as low to the ground as we are able. In the dark, it’s easier to approach the Citadel without drawing much attention to ourselves. At least until we see a great and horrible spiderlike construction of ice and stone, flesh and twig, lumbering through the night.

We hear a piercing scream, and I see that the spider has a huldu woman in its pincers. They are too far away for us to help her. A moment later, her screams cease and the stick-spider begins to feed.

“If that thing can eat,” Oak says, “then it’s trulyalive. Not like one of Grimsen’s ornamental creations with fluttering wings that move like clockwork. Not like that head on a spike, repeating the same message over and over. It hungers and thirsts and wants.”

Like me.

Oh, I do not want to be here. I hate this place. I hate everything about it and everything it might teach me about myself.

Enormous braziers burn on either side of the Citadel gate. We wait in the snow until there is movement on the battlements.