Beautiful.
I turn my head slowly to take it all in, relishing in the fresh, stark air that ruffles my hair. It’s not enough, though. Not nearly enough. So I lift my hands on either side of my little notch and heave myself up.
A strangled yelp of surprise escapes Lowe, while Scofield’s face drains of color. “My lady! Come down from there!”
“She’ll fall!” Lowe manages to squeak out.
“I won’t fall,” I say as I stand on the wall of the parapet, making sure I have solid footing before I straighten up.
Lowe and Scofield are frozen, staring up at me with matching horrified expressions. Scofield reaches up like he’s going to grab hold of me, but a glare from me has him snatching his hand back.
“My lady—” he begins.
I cut him off, facing the city again. “I’m alright. Let me look for a moment, and then I promise I’ll go back to my rooms for the rest of the day.”
He and Lowe go quiet at that, though I can feel the tension radiating off of them.
Maybe it’s foolish to risk standing up here, but sometimes, you have to do foolish things just for the sake of doing them. I can look back one day and remember that I stood here, in the heart of an icicle kingdom, with a frosted city at my feet and a shivering sky at my cheeks.
This is so much better than a cage.
A smile plays about my lips as I breathe in the breeze. I think this is what it must be like for a bird before it lets out its wings and flies. I’m tempted to raise my arms, but it would probably send my nervous guards over the edge, so I keep my hands carefully balanced on the raised bricks at my sides.
My eyes scan the city again, but my attention is pulled like a magnet to a spot in the distance. There, where the darkened veins are spoiled into the snow, is where Ravinger walked and eked out his magic.
Jagged lines are slashed into the ground like torn paper, the edges singed brown against the snow. Even from here, I swear I can feel the sickly pulse of them, like they’re rotted roots, waiting for their master to ground them.
Higher up, on a hill that overlooks the city, rows and rows of Fourth’s army tents are set up in neat little lines. For some strange reason, my heart squeezes at the sight.
My fingertips drag against the rough stone beneath my palms as I tuck my fingers in. I stare and stare at those tents, at the dots I can see moving around, at the smoke lifting from burning campfires like a dark handshake with the air.
It takes another minute of staring before I can admit to myself that the feeling in my chest is longing.
I miss it.
A snort escapes me, because what kind of person misses the traveling camp of the enemy army that captured them?
And yet…they weren’t the enemy. Not to me. I can’t even say I was their captive, because in truth, they rescued me from the Red Raids. In fact, if things had been different, if I’d made the decision to stay, then maybe some of those soldiers down there would have been my friends. Lu, Osrik, Judd, Keg, Hojat.
Rip.
They weren’t what I expected. But somehow, they ended up being exactly what I needed.
“My lady, I really must insist that you come down from there now,” Scofield pleads.
I tear my stinging eyes away from the view to glance down at him. He’s so nervous he looks about ready to pee in his uniform. Considering the cut of his trousers, that would probably make the poor guy chafe, so I take pity on him.
Turning back, I let myself indulge in one last deep breath of air before I hop down onto solid ground. Both of my guards let out a visible sigh of relief.
“Hey! What the hell are you three doing up here?” someone shouts.
I’m really glad I’m not still on top of the wall, because I flinch on instinct at the sudden sound. All three of us look over as a soldier stalks toward us. He’s wearing Ranhold’s armor and a purple cloak, but none of that is as well-tailored as the deep-cut scowl on his face.
Lowe tilts his chin practically down to his chest. “The Gilded Lady was just wanting to take in the view, Captain.”
Displeasure rolls down my skin like beads of water and I shoot Lowe a look. Now all of a sudden I’m the Gilded Lady?
A stony gaze falls onto me as the man stops in front of us. “Well, she can take in the view through a window. The parapet is not a place for females to be carousing around.”
“Of course, Captain,” Lowe quickly says in deference. “We’ll leave straight away.”
Maybe I’m overreacting, but a wave of irritation rushes over me. Why is it so easy for everyone to boss me around and dictate my actions? Everyone always expects me to bend, to behave, and for some reason, right now it just rubs me the wrong way. It nudges at some perched temper inside of me until I feel a budding animosity flexing its wings, talons stretching out with ruffled ire.