Cursed to the Ruined Court (Frostbound Court Book 3) by Robin D. Mahle & Elle Madison

Author:Robin D. Mahle & Elle Madison [Mahle, Robin D. & Madison, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Whiskey and Willow Publishing
Published: 2025-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Everly

Iwas still standing in the stagnant air when the door opened with a whisper-soft click, and Soren slipped inside with the self-satisfied ease of someone who had recently escaped captivity.

His raven-black hair was still damp at the ends, as though he’d run a hand through it while fleeing, and his clothes looked rumpled in a way that suggested haste. I was unreasonably relieved to see him and even his facade of nonchalance under the circumstances.

Whatever family I was creating here, I knew that he had wormed his way in as well, spy or not.

“I see you’ve returned,” I said with all the lightness I didn’t quite feel, lifting the note from the nightstand. “So much for the healer’s orders to rest.”

“I have escaped,” he corrected, shutting the door behind him with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Amias attempted to imprison me with hot food, clean clothing, and the unconscionable demand that I sleep. But, I have liberated myself. Go ahead, be impressed by my bravery.”

I let out a slow breath, unable to hide the smirk tempting the corners of my mouth. “Let me guess. You hid in a broom closet until he gave up?”

He placed a hand over his chest, scandalized. “Do not trivialize my tactical retreat. It involved strategy, timing, and a regrettable encounter with mops.”

A genuine laugh escaped me then. “Well, all good spies have a getaway plan.”

His amber gaze met mine as he dramatically inclined his head.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “They do.”

I had meant it as a joke, but his response was too careful to misinterpret. A question began to take shape in my mind, one stained with the blood of the fae spy I had sent to an early grave.

“Soren,” I said cautiously, “how many contacts do you have? Fae you rely on for… information.”

It was the least subtle question I had probably ever asked in my life.

He blinked once, slowly. “Define rely.”

“That’s not a comforting answer.”

“It wasn’t designed to be.” He moved toward Nevara’s bedside, his expression sobering as his attention settled on her silent form. “Spies survive by evaluating risk, not by trusting the motives of others.”

He offered a small grin. “Or, so I hear at least.”

“Indeed,” I said, then hesitated before asking what I really wanted to know. “Do they ever… die?”

Soren’s head snapped toward me. A furrow appeared between his brows, faint but unmistakably wary.

“Is this about the…delivery the palace received?” he asked.

A shudder slid down my spine. The barrels. The heads. The smell I would never forget.

I really shouldn’t have been surprised that he already knew. Barrels of dismembered limbs were never going to be a discreet or well-guarded secret.

He nodded as if I’d spoken the thought aloud, and shards, perhaps I had.

“Nothing that gruesome stays a secret for long. And I make it a point to know when heads begin arriving uninvited.”

I closed my eyes and took a slow breath in, trying to force the memory out as I exhaled.

Soren’s expression was softer when I opened my eyes again.

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